no trace of him. He had been too careful. He had been too smart.
At the bottom of the hill he turned south onto Highway 101, back toward Newport. Along the way he stopped in the parking lot of one of Oregon’s spectacular beaches, the moon reflecting the ocean’s natural phosphorus, creating a silvery shimmer. He changed
the third coincidence 55
clothes next to the back of the van and put his delivery outfit, in- cluding his shoes, into a black metal drum along with the lovebirds’ identification and the flowers, squeezed a full can of lighter fluid into the jumbled mess and dropped a lit match. The gun, he’d left at the scene. The knife, well, the knife, he had left in the scene.
Newlyweds dream their honeymoon will last forever. For the Breens he had made that a reality.
And then there were twelve.
chapter 13
The Middle East remains conspicuously quiet on the American assassinations.
—FOX News, June 8
At nine that night, Jack turned his straight-back chair around, strad- dled it and plopped his arms across the backrest. “Fill us in on San- tee, Nora.”
“The local police in the Poconos concluded Santee accidentally drove off the cliff,” she began. “Their local M.E. confirmed the time of death matched Mrs. Santee’s statement. She said her husband played a game in which he raced his Jaguar down the mountain road.” After a smirk of sorts, Nora added, “One thing we can be sure of, men never grow up.”
Rachel and Nora smiled at each other while the men protested. Fostering camaraderie was a part of Jack’s reasoning for tonight’s meeting, along with getting everyone up to speed. He knew they needed to bond to have a good chance to complete their mission, particularly in this town where the common denominator was: every-
thing becomes a political football.
So far he had heard no media leaks since the one he discussed with the president, and that one had come from the president’s inner circle. Rachel had a history of working FBI cases without leaking to the press, and he had shared lots of classified stuff with Colin and some with Millet. He trusted them. If there was anyone to worry about it would be Frank Wade or Nora Burke, but they hadn’t leaked
the third coincidence 57
anything after he pushed them to the sidelines at the Montgomery murder scene, so he doubted they would now that they were back on the inside.
“You should all be aware that CIA Director Miller is a close, life- long friend of June Santee,” Jack told the others. “She’s also the god- mother of one of Santee’s children. We need to be sensitive to that whenever she’s around. Director Miller told me Mrs. Santee had spoken with her on more than one occasion about her husband speeding down that mountain road.”
“Whoever is behind these killings has done their homework,” Rachel said. “The killer knew about Monroe’s ginseng, Mont- gomery’s penchant for morning walks through the National Mall, and Santee’s regression behind the wheel of his Jaguar. This guy has a spot picked out for each target.”
“Frank, you and Nora, tomorrow morning, go to the Federal Reserve here in D.C.,” Jack said. “Talk to the head of security. After that, stop to see Chief Oscar Wiggins at the Supreme Court Police. I talked with him after I left you guys at the Montgomery scene. He’ll give you a CD detailing the security breaches, crank stuff, and threats over the past few years. Other than that, carry on the same as you would have if you had never heard from me.”
Rachel slipped her shoes back on before asking Jack, “What’s your take on all this?”
“As you just laid out, each victim died doing something that was part of his normal routine. Whoever is behind these killings has done reconnaissance and carefully planned when, where, and how. With that in mind, tomorrow, take Colin and make contact with the rest of the Fed governors and the justices. Encourage them to change their habitual routines as much
At the bottom of the hill he turned south onto Highway 101, back toward Newport. Along the way he stopped in the parking lot of one of Oregon’s spectacular beaches, the moon reflecting the ocean’s natural phosphorus, creating a silvery shimmer. He changed
the third coincidence 55
clothes next to the back of the van and put his delivery outfit, in- cluding his shoes, into a black metal drum along with the lovebirds’ identification and the flowers, squeezed a full can of lighter fluid into the jumbled mess and dropped a lit match. The gun, he’d left at the scene. The knife, well, the knife, he had left in the scene.
Newlyweds dream their honeymoon will last forever. For the Breens he had made that a reality.
And then there were twelve.
chapter 13
The Middle East remains conspicuously quiet on the American assassinations.
—FOX News, June 8
At nine that night, Jack turned his straight-back chair around, strad- dled it and plopped his arms across the backrest. “Fill us in on San- tee, Nora.”
“The local police in the Poconos concluded Santee accidentally drove off the cliff,” she began. “Their local M.E. confirmed the time of death matched Mrs. Santee’s statement. She said her husband played a game in which he raced his Jaguar down the mountain road.” After a smirk of sorts, Nora added, “One thing we can be sure of, men never grow up.”
Rachel and Nora smiled at each other while the men protested. Fostering camaraderie was a part of Jack’s reasoning for tonight’s meeting, along with getting everyone up to speed. He knew they needed to bond to have a good chance to complete their mission, particularly in this town where the common denominator was: every-
thing becomes a political football.
So far he had heard no media leaks since the one he discussed with the president, and that one had come from the president’s inner circle. Rachel had a history of working FBI cases without leaking to the press, and he had shared lots of classified stuff with Colin and some with Millet. He trusted them. If there was anyone to worry about it would be Frank Wade or Nora Burke, but they hadn’t leaked
the third coincidence 57
anything after he pushed them to the sidelines at the Montgomery murder scene, so he doubted they would now that they were back on the inside.
“You should all be aware that CIA Director Miller is a close, life- long friend of June Santee,” Jack told the others. “She’s also the god- mother of one of Santee’s children. We need to be sensitive to that whenever she’s around. Director Miller told me Mrs. Santee had spoken with her on more than one occasion about her husband speeding down that mountain road.”
“Whoever is behind these killings has done their homework,” Rachel said. “The killer knew about Monroe’s ginseng, Mont- gomery’s penchant for morning walks through the National Mall, and Santee’s regression behind the wheel of his Jaguar. This guy has a spot picked out for each target.”
“Frank, you and Nora, tomorrow morning, go to the Federal Reserve here in D.C.,” Jack said. “Talk to the head of security. After that, stop to see Chief Oscar Wiggins at the Supreme Court Police. I talked with him after I left you guys at the Montgomery scene. He’ll give you a CD detailing the security breaches, crank stuff, and threats over the past few years. Other than that, carry on the same as you would have if you had never heard from me.”
Rachel slipped her shoes back on before asking Jack, “What’s your take on all this?”
“As you just laid out, each victim died doing something that was part of his normal routine. Whoever is behind these killings has done reconnaissance and carefully planned when, where, and how. With that in mind, tomorrow, take Colin and make contact with the rest of the Fed governors and the justices. Encourage them to change their habitual routines as much
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