Jennifer finished the last of her twenty-five laps in the pool and toweled off. The sun was hot for mid-September and the mercury was static at eighty-nine. Logically, September should be hot; technically, it was still summer until the twenty-first. She wrapped the towel around her waist, walked barefoot back through the lobby, and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Gordon let her in when she knocked.
She dressed and dried her hair, put on a few touches of makeup, and joined Gordon at the small table next to the bed. He was splitting his time between the computer, which was tied in to the Internet, and the television, which was locked on CNN. It was the top of the hour and a serious-looking man in his thirties was giving an update on the biological terrorist threat. Jennifer stood next to Gordon and watched the broadcast with her hand on his shoulder.
“There are conflicting reports as to whether the government task force, headed by J.D. Rothery of the Department of Homeland Security, has actually received demands from a group calling themselves the Islamic Front for Justice. Rothery and his counterparts from the FBI, CIA, and NSA are all denying there has been any communication. But CNN has information that appears to be authentic that indicates Rothery’s task force was issued an ultimatum yesterday. The ultimatum contains two as yet unknown demands with a deadline of September twenty-third. If that is true, the government has six days to avert what could become al-Qaeda’s deadliest strike against Americans on their own soil. When asked about the ultimatum, Rothery’s reply was terse.”
Rothery appeared on the screen walking into L’Enfant Plaza. The small printing in the corner read, “Saturday, September 17, 11 A.M.,” two hours earlier. Rothery did not stop moving as the reporter asked him about the demands but shot back a barbed reply. “I don’t know where you guys are getting your information, but you’re going to panic a lot of people for no reason.” The camera caught his back as he entered the building and then the screen flashed back to the reporter.
“This is Jason Langen reporting from Washington, D.C.”
Gordon set his hand on Jennifer’s and they interlocked fingers. “This is getting serious,” he said. “That Rothery guy looks pretty stressed.”
“He’s in the hot seat, all right. I wouldn’t want to be him right now.”
Gordon turned slightly to face her. “I’ve been surfing through some of the files on Enron and I’ve got an idea.”
“What’s that?” she asked, sitting on his knee.
“The securities commission are the big dogs here. They’re the ones who can bite. If we give them what we’ve got on Veritas, it’ll turn the heat on Andrews. He’ll be too busy trying to patch things up before the commission begins a formal investigation to worry about us. And once the securities auditors get their noses into the books, Andrews is in serious trouble.”
She nodded. “That’s an excellent idea. Too bad today is Saturday. We’ll have to wait until Monday to call them.”
“You think it might cause him some grief?” Gordon asked.
“Absolutely. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Turning the securities commission loose on him is brilliant. Once we’ve got him on the defensive, we can get whatever information we have on the murders to the police. He’s not as likely to try to kill us once we’ve pointed a very public finger at him. He’d be the prime suspect if we disappeared.”
“Okay, that gives us Albert, Kenga, and Wes Connors, who were all murdered. A competent homicide investigator could probably tie each of those murders back to Andrews.”
“And add to that we know the murder of that family in Denver is somehow tied to Bruce Andrews. He probably killed that man because he let me live.” She felt a shudder up her spine at the thought. She lived and he died. No mercy in Bruce Andrews’s books. “God, his whole family is dead.”
“He brought that on himself,” Gordon said. “If he wasn’t involved with Andrews, it would never have happened. He might have been the person who killed Kenga Bakcsi and Albert Rousseau. You’ll probably never know how deeply involved he was.”
“You’re right. Okay, Monday it is. We put a call in to the securities commission and give them everything we’ve got on Bruce Andrews and Veritas.”
Gordon smiled at her enthusiasm. It was good to hear a positive tone in her voice again. “Monday, then,” he said.