Lawson’s meeting was in a Loop bar and gril cal ed the Exchequer. She got there early. He was in a back booth, sipping at a glass of water and reading the New York Times.
“Danielson?”
The man from Homeland Security raised his eyes from the paper and hol owed out a smile. “Agent Lawson.”
Danielson made a move to get up, but Lawson waved him back down and slid in across from him.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Danielson said.
“Not a problem. What can I do for you?”
“You can start by tel ing me why you were wandering around in a CTA subway tunnel this afternoon.”
Lawson’s needle never moved off center; her response was right out of the Bureau playbook. “I work a number of cases, Mr. Danielson. Al of them major crimes. So where I go and what I do is my business. Above-and belowground.”
Danielson held up a pair of manicured hands. “Easy. Same side here.”
“Real y?”
“Yes. One of our people happened to be in the area, doing some fol ow-up on the Doherty thing. They saw you go in the access door at Clinton this afternoon and snapped a picture.”
Danielson threw a photo across the table. Lawson picked up the picture of herself and pretended to study it. Then she scuttled it back across the table and into Danielson’s lap.
“The ‘Doherty thing,’ as you cal it, was my case, a Bureau case.”
Danielson shook his head and folded up his newspaper until it was a neat rectangle. “We don’t have to do this, Agent Lawson.”
“No?”
“No. I’m assuming you took a look at the binder James Doherty had with him when he died.”
“I col ected it at the scene. Of course I looked at it.”
“And you saw the notes he made?”
Lawson shrugged, but didn’t respond.
“And I’m suspecting,” Danielson continued, “that was why you were down in the subway today?”
Homeland Security waited, a hint of smugness tattooed across his lips.
“I’m not sure this conversation is going anywhere, Mr. Danielson.”
“Weaponized anthrax, Agent Lawson. Loaded into lightbulbs and planted in Chicago’s subway system. Is that what you’re concerned about? What you think Mr. Doherty might have been up to?”
“From what I know-”
“What you know, Agent Lawson, is nothing. We’ve explored the possibilities raised by Mr. Doherty and the ‘Terror 2000’ binder. That’s our job. We’ve discussed them with your higher-ups. And we have no concerns about any possible threat.”
“Have you taken a look at Doherty’s accomplice?”
“Robles, Robert R. General discharge from the United States Army in 1998. Prior to that, stationed for two years at Fort Detrick, home to this country’s major bioweapons lab. Yes, we know about Mr. Robles and we’ve talked to the lab. He was never authorized access to any weapons materials.”
“And that’s it?”
Danielson fanned his hands, palms up, on the table. “As far as you’re concerned, yes.”
Lawson pul ed out a news clipping. It was from the Baltimore Sun, dated February 10, 2009. The headline read: BIODEFENSE LAB COUNTS ITS