Ted spent most of the rest of the day adapting a chip reader, connecting it to his computer, and testing it. Finally, with the chip displayed on his large computer screen, he reprogrammed the stability program to do the exact reverse of what it had been designed to do. It was now, effectively, an instability program.
Now he had to get the chip into Thomas Graydon’s car, which, with the security detail watching him, was not going to be easy. He read through his clippings file on Justice Graydon again and found something he thought might be usefuclass="underline" Graydon kept a cabin in a fairly steep and remote area of the Maryland mountains, not all that far from Camp David.
Ted picked up the phone and got the number for the Supreme Court, then dialed it and asked for Justice Graydon.
“Justice Graydon’s chambers,” a young woman’s voice said.
“This is Tim Johnson in the Attorney General’s office,” he said. “The general has a friend of the family, a recent graduate of Yale Law School, who would like to interview for a clerk’s position. She’s coming to Washington for the day later this week, and the general wondered if Justice Graydon could possibly see her on Friday afternoon?”
“I’m afraid Justice Graydon won’t be in on Friday afternoon,” the young woman said. “He goes to his country place most weekends. Could she possibly come in on Friday morning?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ted said. “Let me call you back to arrange this when I know more about her schedule. Thanks very much.” He hung up.
BY NOON ON FRIDAY, Ted was in the Mercedes, parked not far from the garage exit at the Supreme Court building. It was nearly three o’clock before the black SUV Emerged, followed by the gray security van. Ted started the engine and followed, keeping one or two cars between himself and the security van. The Friday afternoon exit from Washington was building, and the traffic was helpful to him in keeping the two vehicles in sight.
Graydon returned to his home to pick up some luggage and his wife, and with a security agent at the wheel, the car drove away from the house a little after four. A light rain was beginning to fall, and Ted switched on his wipers and lights.
He followed the entourage to the beltway, then to the interstate north, and forty-five minutes out of Washington, he watched as the SUV and the security van pulled off the highway into a rest stop with a restaurant and a service station. The SUV had to park some distance from the restaurant, because of the lack of free parking spaces, and Justice Graydon, his wife, and his bodyguard all got out and walked a hundred yards to the restaurant. The security van followed and parked at the curb outside. It was facing away from the parking lot, which suited Ted’s purposes.
He parked the Mercedes near the SUV, got out, and looked around. He waited until a couple nearby had left their car and the area, then he quickly walked to the SUV, took a slim-jim tool from under his jacket, and unlocked the door. He popped the hood, and, after another quick look around, raised the hood and, with a small screwdriver, removed the cover from the central computer box, extracted the central processing chip, and replaced it with his modified version. Seconds later, he was back in the Mercedes and on his way back to the hangar, where he had much work to do.
WHEN THEY RETURNED to the SUV, the agent pointed the remote control at the car and pressed the unlock button. The horn beeped, and the parking lights flashed. It did not occur to him that the car might already be unlocked.
TEDDY WAS BACK in the hangar by early evening, and he began packing things into the RV and the Mercedes. With only a short break for dinner, he worked until past midnight, cleaning up after himself. Finally, he maneuvered the Mercedes behind the RV and hooked up the towbar. He fell into bed after 1 a.m. A good night’s sleep and he would be on his way.
48
WILL READ THE LETTER from his wife once more, then he pressed a button on his intercom. “See if you can get Mrs. Lee,” he said. “She’s probably on her way home by now.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” the secretary said.
Shortly, Kate came on the line. “Hi, I’ve just left Langley.”
“I got your fax,” “Will said. ”Are these people really on board for this?“
“Koppel and Adams are. Hugh English was reluctant, but with the new information that came in, he folded.”
“What new information?”
“Our acquaintance in Atlanta says he can be helpful in locating Mr. Fay.”
“Can anyone hear you?” Will asked.
“No, I’m in the backseat, and the partition is up.”
“How the hell can he be helpful with that?”
“He has been in touch with me, saying he knew who the killer was, and he wanted a pardon in return for the information. Then, when we finally got Fay’s name and description, he emailed me this morning and said he knows where to find him. What we’re recommending is the promise of a pardon if his information is good.”
“I hate tradeoffs like this,” Will said.
“I know you do, but what choice do we have? If someone else is killed because we didn’t act on this, the consequences could be very bad for you.”
“Not to mention the victim and his family.”
“Exactly. Oh, Rawls wants the FBI reward, too.”
“I suppose, if his information is good, he’d be entitled to it.”
“Yes. I suggest you announce the pardon at Christmastime, when you do the annual list of pardons. Never mind that he’d already be free by then. I think you can justify the delay in announcing.”
“All right, I’ll have an answer for you by the time you get home.”
“See you soon.” She hung up.
Will read the recommendation again. He didn’t like this at all. Rawls had been Kate’s mentor at the CIA, and this was going to look too cozy, as if she were doing a favor for an old friend. He went into his small study and locked the letter from Kate and her colleagues in his personal safe, then he called his secretary in and dictated a letter.
“Get ahold of Deputy Director Kinney at the FBI and ask him to come to the White House immediately. Tell him he’s going to have to fly to Atlanta tonight and to make the travel arrangements.”
He read over the letter, then he signed it and sealed it in a While House envelope.
BOB KINNEY WAS SITTING at a table in a Georgetown restaurant, gazing into Nancy Kimble’s eyes. “God, I’m glad you’re back,” he said.
“So am I.”
They clinked glasses, and as they did, his cell phone rang.
“Dammit, I forgot to turn it off,” he said, glancing at the instrument. He flipped it open. “Kinney.” He listened for a moment. “ Atlanta? Why?” His shoulders sagged. “I’ll be there inside half an hour.” He closed the phone.
“What is it?”
“I have to go to the White House, then to Atlanta on some mission or other for the president. I’m awfully sorry.”
“It can’t be helped,” she said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“You have your key to the apartment?”
“Yes, you go ahead. I can walk home.”
He stood up, kissed her, and ran for a taxi. On the way to the White House, he called the duty officer in the Hoover Building. “This is Deputy Director Kinney,” he said. “I have to fly to Atlanta immediately. Call Andrews and order a plane, fuel for Charlie Brown Airport, then call Agent Kerry Smith and have him meet me at Andrews.” He hung up and wondered what the hell was going on.