Capital Crimes

48

WILL READ THE LETTER from his wife once more, then he pressed a button on his intercom. “See if you can get Mrs. Lee,” he said. “She’s probably on her way home by now.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” the secretary said.

Shortly, Kate came on the line. “Hi, I’ve just left Langley.”

“I got your fax,” “Will said. ”Are these people really on board for this?“

“Koppel and Adams are. Hugh English was reluctant, but with the new information that came in, he folded.”

“What new information?”

“Our acquaintance in Atlanta says he can be helpful in locating Mr. Fay.”

“Can anyone hear you?” Will asked.

“No, I’m in the backseat, and the partition is up.”

“How the hell can he be helpful with that?”

“He has been in touch with me, saying he knew who the killer was, and he wanted a pardon in return for the information. Then, when we finally got Fay’s name and description, he emailed me this morning and said he knows where to find him. What we’re recommending is the promise of a pardon if his information is good.”

“I hate tradeoffs like this,” Will said.

“I know you do, but what choice do we have? If someone else is killed because we didn’t act on this, the consequences could be very bad for you.”

“Not to mention the victim and his family.”

“Exactly. Oh, Rawls wants the FBI reward, too.”

“I suppose, if his information is good, he’d be entitled to it.”

“Yes. I suggest you announce the pardon at Christmastime, when you do the annual list of pardons. Never mind that he’d already be free by then. I think you can justify the delay in announcing.”

“All right, I’ll have an answer for you by the time you get home.”

“See you soon.” She hung up.

Will read the recommendation again. He didn’t like this at all. Rawls had been Kate’s mentor at the CIA, and this was going to look too cozy, as if she were doing a favor for an old friend. He went into his small study and locked the letter from Kate and her colleagues in his personal safe, then he called his secretary in and dictated a letter.

“Get ahold of Deputy Director Kinney at the FBI and ask him to come to the White House immediately. Tell him he’s going to have to fly to Atlanta tonight and to make the travel arrangements.”

He read over the letter, then he signed it and sealed it in a While House envelope.

BOB KINNEY WAS SITTING at a table in a Georgetown restaurant, gazing into Nancy Kimble’s eyes. “God, I’m glad you’re back,” he said.

“So am I.”

They clinked glasses, and as they did, his cell phone rang.

“Dammit, I forgot to turn it off,” he said, glancing at the instrument. He flipped it open. “Kinney.” He listened for a moment. “ Atlanta? Why?” His shoulders sagged. “I’ll be there inside half an hour.” He closed the phone.

“What is it?”

“I have to go to the White House, then to Atlanta on some mission or other for the president. I’m awfully sorry.”

“It can’t be helped,” she said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You have your key to the apartment?”

“Yes, you go ahead. I can walk home.”

He stood up, kissed her, and ran for a taxi. On the way to the White House, he called the duty officer in the Hoover Building. “This is Deputy Director Kinney,” he said. “I have to fly to Atlanta immediately. Call Andrews and order a plane, fuel for Charlie Brown Airport, then call Agent Kerry Smith and have him meet me at Andrews.” He hung up and wondered what the hell was going on.

BOB KINNEY WAS USHERED into the family quarters of the White House only moments after Kate had arrived. Will offered him a seat, then handed him the envelope.

“Agent Kinney, I’d like you to fly to Atlanta immediately and hand-deliver this letter to Edward Rawls, who is an inmate at the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.”

“Yes, sir,” Kinney replied.

“Mr. Rawls says that he knows where to find Theodore Fay. The letter says that if his information is good he will receive a presidential pardon and the reward we are offering for Fay’s capture. I want you to interrogate him thoroughly, then act on whatever information he gives you.”

“I know who Rawls is, Mr. President, but may I ask, how can he possibly know where Fay is?”

Kate spoke up. “They both worked for the CIA, and they probably worked together at one time. We don’t know the details, but Rawls says he knows where to find the man. We have nothing to lose by playing his game. If his information is incorrect, he stays where he is.”

“I understand,” Kinney said. “I’ve already ordered an aircraft for the trip.”

“Phone me after you’ve talked with Rawls,” Will said. “I’ll leave word with the switchboard to put you through.” He stood up and shook Kinney’s hand. “Good night, and good luck.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kinney said. “Oh, excuse me. Could you arrange for a car to take me to Andrews Air Force Base? I came here in a cab. My car is at home.”

“Of course,” Will said, picking up a phone.

KERRY SMITH was waiting when the White House car pulled up to the hangar. A Gulfstream III was sitting on the ramp, its engines running.

“What’s up?” Smith yelled over the noise.

“I’ll tell you when we’re aboard,” Kinney shouted back, beckoning for him to follow.

When they were aboard the airplane and the door was sealed, Kinney sank into a large armchair.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he said, “but we’re flying to Atlanta to talk to a convicted traitor who says he knows where Fay is.”

“Who’s the traitor?”

“Ed Rawls.”

Smith shook his head.

“You’re too young to remember. He’s been inside a long time.” Kinney pulled out the envelope. “This is a letter from the president, offering him a pardon if his information is good.”

“Now that I don’t believe,” Smith said.