FORTY-ONE

2110 Paces Ferry Road

Vinings, Georgia

7:38 a.m.

Two Days Earlier

Alicia was humming an old show tune as she stepped out of the shower. Last night with Lang had been every bit as wonderful as she had fantasized. Smiling at the thought, she swaddled herself in the thick terry-cloth robe from the Willard Hotel in Washington, the one she had swiped the time the cheapskates at the Department of Justice had allowed her to stay there instead of the usual out-of-the-way Sheraton or Marriott. She was wrapping a towel into a turban around her hair as she walked into the bedroom and stopped.

For an instant she thought Lang had come back to reclaim some forgotten item. But there were two men she had never seen before standing between her and the door to the hall.

The one closest was of slender build, over six feet, mid- thirties, dark hair cut slightly shorter than currently fashionable, and freshly shaved, as though he had just put down his razor. He looked out of place in the landscaping service's uniform he wore.

Her first reaction was anger rather than fear. "How did you get in

…?"

He held up a thin black wallet with a badge fixed to one side, a photo ID on the other. She had seen hundreds just like it. "Special Agent Witherspoon, Federal Bureau of Investigation."

The other man was holding up similar creds.

Her anger not even slightly mollified, she snapped, "You're not from the local office. I hope to hell you've got a warrant."

Witherspoon returned the black wallet to a pocket. "We understood Langford Reilly was here."

She stepped to the bedside, reaching for the phone. "I don't care if you thought Osama bin Laden was here- you don't have a warrant, your ass is grass, as you're about to find out."

She picked up the receiver and had punched in the first four digits of the local FBI office, a number any assistant U.S. Attorney knew by rote, when she felt a slight prick in her arm.

"What the hell do you think…?"

Her knees suddenly gave way and she was lying on the floor, looking at a pair of men's shoes. Above her she heard the phone being replaced on its cradle.

Then her world went black.

Should a neighbor have been leaving his house for work a minute or so later, he would have seen nothing unusual at 8:10. Two men from the community association's landscaping service were carrying a large bag, no doubt full of grass cuttings or fallen leaves, to their truck. The only thing unusual was that the sack seemed to weigh more than such material should. Both men were struggling with the weight. It would have been comforting to know residents were getting their money's worth.

Загрузка...