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Once aboard the superb forty-foot, wooden-hulled yacht which Jeff had borrowed for the day, she felt alive and energized again. It was obvious that Jeff Morris was an expert sailor, and even on this unfamiliar boat, Kelly amazed herself by the skills and knowledge she somehow remembered from her days of sailing off the Washington coast. It was as if she had never been away from the water, and Kelly settled easily into the technique of steering the craft out towards the ocean while Jeff adjusted the sails. The afternoon passed quietly and pleasantly. They spoke little, respecting each other’s privacy and thoughts. It was almost sunset when they came about for the last time, and began to head back slowly in the dying wind to the marina. They stood together, relaxed, in the stern, and allowed the wind to carry them safely to shore at its own speed. As the dusk began to settle, Jeff switched on the navigation lights.

‘I broke up with Frank yesterday,’ Kelly said eventually. ‘That’s why I was in the condition I was this morning, which you were nice enough not to mention. Thank you for that.’

He laughed.

‘I wondered if that was it.’

‘Linda spent the night with me. We have a tradition of alcoholic consolations in such circumstances.’

‘I’ve been known to do that myself. What triggered it, or shouldn’t I ask?’

‘He called me up out of the blue and insisted I fly out to Cleveland today on a moment’s notice to be at some function his senator has scheduled. I said ‘No’. He didn’t want to take ‘No’ for an answer. Hell, Jeff, he hadn’t even called until then to let me know where he was.’

‘Yes. I can see why that would have frosted you.’

Kelly leaned back against the stern of the boat.

‘It did. But it wasn’t just that. It’s taken me a while to work it out, but I finally realized that I would never have been anything to him except the little woman at home. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I ever will be.’

‘Did you tell him you had other plans for today?’

Kelly laughed.

‘Yes. I fibbed about it at first, said I was going into the office. Then I thought ‘what the hell?’ and I told him I had a date.’

‘Good for you. What did he say about that?’

‘He said he hoped whoever it was could offer me the same kind of future he could.’

‘God. This guy sounds like he needs to get over himself.’

There was a silence, while Jeff made a slight adjustment in the tiller as the wind almost imperceptibly changed direction. She took his free hand in both of hers.

‘It’s not that I don’t care about the future, Jeff. I guess it’s just not the time for me yet, and I know now that Frank isn’t the right person for me to share my future with.’

‘That’s good information to have,’ Jeff said. ‘You think we can make it in from here with the jib if I take the mainsail down?’

‘It will be close,’ Kelly replied. ‘Of course, we could always cheat.’

‘You mean use the engine?’ Jeff asked with a grin.

‘Just a thought.’

‘Oh, I don’t think we’re in any danger of being becalmed yet,’ Jeff replied. ‘Let’s see if we can do it the old-fashioned way.’

‘Aye, aye, Captain. But I would give the mainsail another couple of minutes.’

‘Good.’ Jeff nodded approvingly. ‘So would I. Your dad taught you well.’

Kelly suddenly squeezed his hand between hers.

‘Jeff, thanks for listening. I don’t know what you must think of me, laying all this crap on you. I don’t mean to. I hope you know that. I came sailing with you to have a good time, and I’m certainly doing that.’

He slid his arm around her and pulled her close.

‘I’ve never felt for a moment that you were laying anything on me, Kelly.’

‘Thanks.’

‘But I also want you to know that it wouldn’t bother me if you did. I’m glad you feel you can talk to me. And I will make you one promise.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know where this is going with you and me, how it’s all going to play out, but whatever happens, I will never ask you to give up doing what you want to do.’

She looked up into his eyes, and to their mutual surprise, they suddenly kissed. When it ended, they were silent for a while. The marina was getting closer. In a minute or two, the mainsail really would have to come down.

‘Well, it seems we’ll be working together for a while,’ Jeff said eventually, handing over the tiller to Kelly and preparing to lower the sail. ‘That should give us plenty of time and a good excuse for getting acquainted.’

Kelly shook her head thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think so, Jeff. I think we’re going to be able to date socially, away from work, like normal people.’

‘How so? What about our two murders?’

‘I have a feeling we’ve done all we can on those, for now at least.’

‘Oh?’

She looked away across the darkening water.

‘I think we both know what happened. I think Hamid Marfrela killed Lucia Benoni. And I think a mountain man killed Hamid Marfrela. And I think the mountain man, by now, is holed up in a compound in Oregon.’

‘Where we can’t get him unless and until he chooses to come out,’ Jeff said, lowering the mainsail the last few inches and tying off the line. ‘Not without risking a holocaust.’

‘Or until he becomes too much of a problem for them and they leave his body some place for us to find.’

‘End of story either way.’

‘Yes. We won’t know for sure until we get the results of the forensic tests. But that’s where my money is.’

Jeff shook his head. ‘We still have unanswered questions.’

‘Yes,’ Kelly sighed.

‘Do we have any kind of motive for these killings?’ Jeff asked.

Kelly shrugged. ‘For Benoni, maybe. It could have been as simple as a sexual frenzy. But for Marfrela, we just don’t know.’

‘Which means Benoni remains open as well,’ Jeff concluded, rejoining her at the stern as she steered the boat gently towards the entrance of the marina.

‘You mean, it’s possible that someone had Benoni killed by Marfrela and then killed Marfrela to cover his tracks?’

‘It’s possible. Who knows? We may never find out, and it may not matter very much. After all, there’s no one left to prosecute.’

Jeff was silent for a while. ‘So the murders may be just history,’ he said eventually.

‘Apart from one thing,’ Kelly objected.

‘What?’

‘The fact that in some way, these murders are connected to the President of the United States,’ Kelly replied. ‘Somehow, I don’t think that fact is going to go away. The murders may be history, but I have a feeling the fall-out is just about to begin.’

T
HE
HOTEL
THAT
Selvey had selected for his meeting was ideal. It was a small, run-down establishment in a dilapidated neighborhood, close to O’Hare International Airport in Chicago. The paint on the walls and doors was flaking, the furniture sagged, and the plumbing was in need of repair. The management insisted on cash in advance, the hotel had no amenities, and the neighborhood was not one to walk through without good reason. But comfort and safety were not what interested Selvey. He had no intention of staying long, and he was well able to look after himself. Secrecy was his main consideration and, for this, the venue was well chosen. The hotel was residential and had almost no casual trade. The residents were mainly preoccupied by the need to find their daily intake of liquor or drugs.

His visitor was expected just after the hour. Selvey lit a cigarette, checked his handgun and the envelope he had placed under a pillow, and made himself as comfortable as he could on the rickety bed.

Exactly on time, his visitor gave the prearranged four raps on the door. There was no peep-hole, so Selvey opened it cautiously to the extent permitted by the security chain he had put in place as soon as he entered the room.

‘I’m Jeffers,’ the man said. ‘Is this the right room?’ The voice was unsteady.

Without replying, Selvey released the security chain, opened the door, looked briefly in both directions along the corridor, then allowed the man to enter. He closed the door, replaced the chain, and secured the dead bolt. As a final act of caution, he walked to the window, drew back the drapes a little way, and looked down into the street. Some young men were playing a makeshift game of basketball in a vacant lot opposite the hotel. The transient who had been sitting on the sidewalk a little farther down the street was still in place, nursing the same brown paper bag. Selvey turned back to Jeffers.

‘You came alone?’

‘Yes. Just like you said.’

‘Any chance you were followed?’

The question seemed to alarm Jeffers, or perhaps it was just that he wore an expression of perpetual anxiety He was a short man, late forties or early fifties, Selvey thought, a receding hairline, the beginnings of a beer gut, but wearing neat, well cared-for clothing. He was holding a black peaked cap which he had removed from his head on entering the room. Except for his occupation, Selvey knew nothing about him. But Selvey’s instinct told him that Jeffers was not a threat.

‘Why would I be followed?’ he asked nervously. ‘Look, what am I getting into here? You said…’

‘It’s OK,’ Selvey replied. ‘I’ve no reason to think you were. I’m just being careful. It’s routine in this kind of work.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Jeffers said. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m not sure I should be doing it now. Where did you find this place, for God’s sake? I didn’t think I’d make it here alive. Those people on the street look as though they’d cut your throat as soon as look at you.’

Selvey smiled.

‘Relax, Mr. Jeffers. You’re in good hands. Have a seat. Drink?’

Jeffers sat reluctantly on one of the hard-backed chairs at the small table.

‘Thanks. I don’t mind if I do.’

Selvey took a bottle of Dewar’s from a large briefcase he had left by the side of the table. He had already rinsed out the two glasses from the bathroom, which hadn’t been particularly clean. He poured them both a drink.

‘I’m sorry there’s no ice. Room service here is not what it should be. It’s a bit different from where you work.’

Jeffers relaxed slightly, and smiled as they touched glasses.

‘Cigarette?’ Selvey asked, lighting one for himself.

‘No. I gave up.’

‘Good for you.’

Selvey walked to the bed, lifted the pillow, and picked up the envelope. He placed it on the table in front of Jeffers.

‘Go ahead, check it. It stays with me until we’re done, but I want you to see I’m here to do the deal.’

As Jeffers opened the envelope and began to count the money, Selvey reached awkwardly into the briefcase, which had fallen forwards against the table, and took out a compact digital recorder. He sat down opposite Jeffers. Jeffers was still absorbed by the money. Selvey smiled inwardly at the look of sheer greed in the man’s eyes.

‘OK?’

‘Yes, it’s exactly right.’

‘Good. We don’t want any mistakes, do we?’

Jeffers had noticed the recorder.

‘What’s that for?’

‘To make a record, Mr. Jeffers. We’re going to be discussing some matters of great importance, and I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. I have people to report to, and when they’re paying out the kind of money you’re getting, they want to be sure the information is solid. You understand, I’m sure.’

Jeffers was still looking uncertain.

‘You have nothing to worry about. The recording is not going to fall into the wrong hands.’

‘Who is it you report to, exactly?’

‘Certain gentlemen who have the national interest at heart. Very respectable people, I assure you. I’m afraid it is essential.’

Selvey pulled the envelope back to his own side of the table.

Jeffers nodded reluctantly.

‘If you say so.’

Selvey nodded, and started the recording by stating the date and time, but not the place of the meeting.

‘What is your name?’ he asked.

‘Harold Jeffers.’

‘Age?’

‘Fifty-two.’

‘Where you do you live?’

‘Central Chicago, just off Clark, born and raised.’

‘Married?’

‘No. Divorced. I have a son, who’s grown. He’s out in L.A. I don’t see him much.’

‘Occupation?’

‘Head waiter.’

‘Where?’

‘Brown’s Hotel, on the Mile, State Street.’

‘How long?’

‘Twenty-five years. I just got my silver pin.’

‘Congratulations. I guess, after twenty-five years, they don’t have you bussing tables any more?’

Jeffers smiled proudly.

‘No, Sir. I get the best assignments in the hotel.’

‘Meaning?’

‘
Maître D’
, if I’m in the restaurant, which I’m not very often any more. Usually, they put me in charge of service at functions. I make sure the kitchen and the waiters are doing their job, make sure the flowers are in place, liaise with the band if there is one, that kind of thing. If it’s more like a business function, it’s up to me to make sure the sound system works, make sure they have stuff to write with, a whiteboard, overhead projector, Power Point setup, whatever they need, podium, water pitchers. You know.’

‘Your job is to make everything run smoothly?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Do you ever have VIPs or celebrities staying?’

Jeffers smiled knowingly. ‘All the time.’

‘What kind of people?’

‘All kinds. Entertainers, politicians, visiting dignitaries from abroad. There’s hardly a week goes by when we don’t have somebody interesting.’

‘I’m sure. What are your responsibilities when you have someone like that staying?’

‘Basically, to find out what they need, and make sure they get it. Of course, it depends on how important the guest is. We make more effort in some cases than in others.’

Selvey smiled and nodded. ‘How about when it’s the President of the United States?’

Jeffers hesitated. He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his pants and mopped his brow, then took a drink of his whisky.

‘Has that happened?’ Selvey asked.

‘Once or twice.’

‘And, so that we’re clear, we’re talking about President Steve Wade?’