Choppy Water

32

Bill Wright rapped on the door.

“Come in!” A woman’s voice.

He opened the door. Holly Barker was sitting at a large desk, its top obscured by stacks of bound documents.

“What can I do for you, Bill?” she asked.

“Ma’am, this is Tom Blake, assistant director of the FBI for criminal investigations.”

“Hello, Tom.”

“Hello, ma’am.”

“We’d like to take a look outside your window,” Bill said.

“Help yourself. Am I in the way?”

“I’ll let you know in a minute.”

The two men went and stood by the window, which was made of a thick plate glass. And between two layers, a fine wire mesh could be detected.

Tom rapped on the window with his class ring, which, he reflected, was about all it was good for. “Is this going to stop a bullet?” he asked.

“We believe so,” Bill said, “but it was installed before my time, so I haven’t seen any test results.”

“A high-powered rifle’s bullet?” Tom asked.

“Same answer.”

“Ma’am,” Tom said. “May I sit in your chair for a moment?”

Holly rose and stepped aside.

Bill unrolled the satshot and oriented it properly. “Okay,” he said. “There would be the possibility of a hit from anyplace we can see out the window.” He marked the limits on the satshot.

“Everything I can see from here,” Tom said, “with two exceptions, looks like government to me.”

Bill looked out the window and compared it with the map. “I agree. The two exceptions are the Hay-Adams Hotel and an Episcopal church.” He pointed to both on the map.

Tom checked the view again, then returned to the map. “What’s this building next to the church?”

“The rectory, I think.”

“I’m a Baptist. What happens in a rectory?”

“Church offices, maybe a residence or two.”

“There’s a row of identical windows along the top floor that could be individual rooms or small apartments,” Tom said.

“Maybe for staff or priests or other employees.”

“What’s behind the rectory?”

Bill checked and tapped the satshot with a finger. “A garden.”

“What we can hear on the tape is about an apartment where they’ve paid two months’ rent.”

“Agreed.”

“And we agree that there are no other residential buildings within rifle range of that window except for the rectory?”

“We do.”

“Then let’s go take a look at it,” Tom said.

“We’re sorry to have disturbed you, ma’am,” Bill said. “Would you mind if we relocate your desk? It’s for your personal safety.”

“Anywhere you like.”

“On the other side of the building would be nice,” Tom muttered.

“Not possible,” Bill said. “Give me a hand with this.”

“Where is it going?”

“All the way over there in that corner. I’m afraid, ma’am, that won’t leave you with much of a view.”

“Nor for the shooter,” Holly replied. “I like it.”

The desk, with its load of documents was very heavy, but they eventually managed to slide it across the carpet and into position.

“There,” Bill said.

Holly pushed her chair over to the desk and sat down. “I can’t see a thing outside the window.”

“Good,” Tom said.

“Tom,” Bill said. “Does the FBI have some sort of a department that could put a dummy in a chair near the window?”

“Yes. It’s called the Department of Special Services.”

“Make her a tall redhead,” Bill said.

Tom got out his phone. “No service,” he said.

“That’s because of the wire mesh in the plate glass.”

“You can use a house phone in the living room,” Holly said. “The White House operator can connect you with any phone in the world.”

“That’ll do,” Tom said, and they left her alone, closing the door behind them.

Tom picked up a phone on a sofa-side table and made his call.

The two men sat in the office of the bishop, who was regarding them askance. “You want to search the rectory?”

“That is correct, sir. It’s a matter of safety for the White House.”

The bishop looked at the two IDs on his desk. “Who are you looking for?”

“A man with a high-powered rifle, but he won’t have arrived yet.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He spoke to his assistant. “Eric, please find the keys to the rooms on the upper floors of the rectory and escort these gentlemen there for a tour. Make sure they don’t steal the silver.” He handed back the IDs. “Good luck to you.”

“What’s on the upper floors?” Bill asked Eric as the elevator rose.

“Top floor is sort of a dormitory that used to house visiting high-school kids who did summer internships. It isn’t used anymore. There are a few single rooms, as well, for their teachers. One floor down is busy office space.”

“Let’s see the top floor,” Bill said.

As they got out of the elevator a maid stepped out of a door, towing a mop bucket behind her.

“Miss, which rooms did you clean?” Tom asked.

“All of the singles. We do it once a week, though they’re little used.”

“Are they locked?” Eric asked.

“No, sir.”

“There are three furnished,” Eric said. “Which do you want to see?”

“All of them,” Tom replied

The three were identically furnished with a bed, a desk, a padded chair, and two lamps. There were fresh towels in the bathrooms.

“Which of the rear windows in the dormitory have views of the garden?” Bill asked.

“I suppose the ones across from these rooms.”

Tom tried the windows in all three rooms. Only one opened freely. The others were nailed shut.

“There used to be an air conditioner in that window,” Eric said, “before the whole place got new ductwork.”

Bill walked across the dormitory and found one window that would open. “Nice view of the garden,” he said when he returned.

“I noticed locks on the doors of the three rooms,” Tom said. “Where are the keys?”

Eric held up a bunch of, perhaps two dozen keys. “Help yourself.”

“Okay,” Tom said, “let’s lock the rooms on either side. We can put men in both. He’ll have only one option and one working window.”

“I’d call that boxing him in,” Bill said.