“You think losing my face isn’t sickening?”
Todd Cummings glared at Matt. “I don’t doubt that something is going on, something violent and ugly. But take a look around you. I’m a senior officer here. I’m not putting my firm at risk, jeopardizing my career, because of a college acquaintance I knew over thirty years ago.” He paused. “Sorry, you’re on your own. Now get out.”
Nicole begged. “Please Mr. Cummings, we need…”
“I’ll show you both to the express elevator. If you’re still in the building after five minutes I’ll call security. They’re armed.”
At the elevator, Matt stared at his old friend. “You can’t just walk away from this, Toad.”
“Just watch me.”
As the elevator door closed, Matt held the door open for a few moments. “Hey, Toad? You always were number one.” Matt extended his middle finger. “Watch your back old friend.” The door hissed shut.
Opening his office door, Todd Cummings growled to his secretary. “No calls.”
“Was lunch satisfactory, Mr. Cummings?”
“Fine. I need some quiet time to think about the upcoming director’s meeting.” He smiled coldly. “Hold back the hordes for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The ice crackled as he poured straight bourbon and sat behind his desk. He swung his leather chair to face the view over the river. Cummings had risen high. He worked hard. He had talent, patience, and could make ruthless decisions when required. He was a professional problem solver and about to put those skills to work once more.
“What is that bastard up to?” he said, swirling the bourbon in the glass. “Suppose there is a terrorist cell operating in the U.S. planning to kill the President?”
Cummings stood up. He always thought best by talking out loud. “Now if there is a terrorist plot on the life of the President… Trace the repercussions… Item 1: if this cell tries to kill Pierce, even if they miss, almost certainly the U.S. would demand full retaliation. Item 2: If war breaks out, Monument Oil and Gas and its delicate negotiations for oil concessions in the Middle East could be ruined. Shit! We need peace, not war if we are to secure those oil reserves for ourselves. But with that deranged asshole Richards running around…”
He paused by the television, absently tuning it to CNN. He scanned the running ticker tape. Then it came…
“We’re interrupting this portion of Inside Asia with a special late-breaking headline news report from Washington, D.C. Metropolitan police have now confirmed they are looking for a possible suspect in the death late last night of Dr. Martin J. Thomas, retired director of the National Institutes of Health.
The suspect, known by the FBI and CIA as an international assassin was identified by both Dr. Thomas’s personal butler and Senator Mason Stevens, who had had dinner with Dr. Thomas earlier in the evening. According to the butler the suspect was accompanied by a woman whom authorities have identified as Nicole Delacluse, formerly an investigative journalist for the International Herald Tribune. Both Senator Stevens and the butler gave identical descriptions. The two are wanted for questioning and are believed to be somewhere in the greater metropolitan D.C. area.”
A full-face photograph flashed up on the screen. “The male suspect seen here in this CIA photo may be armed and should be considered extremely dangerous.” Todd Cummings leaned forward and stared at the image of the man he’d just had lunch with.
“Matt, you sorry sonofabitch. You’re in a heap of trouble. And it’s time to make that phone call.” He returned to his desk.
Matt jumped at the sound of Nicole’s cell phone chirping inside her purse. “Yes? Oh, Hi Dad. We’re driving back to the Pittsburgh airport. What’s up?” Her face turned ashen. “Okay, we’ll call you from a service area in about an hour. Of course we will be careful.”
Nicole turned to Matt. “Well, we’re famous now. CNN has just shown our photos on Headline News. We’ve been named as possible suspects in the death of Dr. Thomas. And to top it off the CIA has identified you as an international assassin, armed and dangerous. Dad suggests we drive back to Washington instead of fly, ditch the rental car in the suburbs and take the Metro back to his safe house.” They were both deep in thought as the rental car continued down the Pennsylvania Turnpike.
“Maybe it’s time we turned ourselves in, Matt, and told them the truth? Besides, they didn’t alter your fingerprints did they? You can still convince them you’re really Matthew Richards. They’ve got to believe you.”
“Just how long do you think we’ll live if I do that?” Matt replied. He pulled the car into a service area. “There’s another way to do this. Remember Cummings mentioned Anne-Marie Khoury?”
“The artist?”
“That she is. And if anyone knows what all the old gang is doing, she’s the one. Maybe she can shed some light on who might be involved with the terrorists.”
“What’s she like?”
“Well, it’s been a long time. But she was warm, fun loving, sensitive. She was well liked by everyone at AUB. It’s worth a try.” Matt recalled some of the fun they had that year. A fleeting smile crossed his new face, an odd congruence of past and present.
“And if she’s not home?”
“Damn it, Nicole, work with me, please. I haven’t got much hope left.”
“But we can’t just drive all over the country looking up your old Beirut pals. Someone will recognize us.”
Matt nodded. “You’re right. But we’ve got to talk with her, in person. It’s our only chance. Then we’ll get back to Washington, I promise.” He leaned over and kissed her.
“Hold it there, cowboy. Not while I’m driving. Are you hungry?”
“Now that you mention it, I’m starved. I didn’t eat much back there in the executive dining room. I could murder for a Big Mac right now.”
“Okay. I’ll park at the next services area. But you stay in the car. We stand a better change of not being recognized that way. What do you want on your hamburger?”
An hour later they were headed for Massachusetts. Matt gestured for the cell phone. When he heard her voice his mind relaxed. Her soothing hello spanned decades and continents. He kept the conversation brief, just as they had planned. He was Matt’s cousin who found a few things in his effects with her name on them. They agreed to meet at her home in the morning.
Nicole smiled. “Tomorrow, then?”
Matt nodded. “Best bet is to find an out of the way motel where we can spend the night and make the final drive early in the morning.”
“Okay.” Nicole stared ahead at the turnpike.
Matt looked at her. “What is it?”
“I shouldn’t say anything. Just fatigue I guess.”
“We’re partners, remember? And I do care for you, Nicole.”
“Tell me about her.”
“Who, Anne-Marie?”
“No. Todd Cummings talked about Maha. The redhead. He said you were deeply in love. I need to know, Matt, because I care for you too.” She swallowed hard.
Matt looked away. The tires rattled on the center markers as the car changed lanes. Maha. The name brought back memories both painful and exhilarating. He kept his emotions in check. Nicole deserved that.
“My first real love, the only woman I guess I ever loved. It wasn’t just a heady combination of adolescent love and lust but a deep, powerful, and lasting love-or so I thought. But in the years following her death I often wondered if it was her I loved or just the idealized vision of a woman I could never spend a life with.”
And so Matt began telling Nicole about the first and only love of his life. Had it been reality or just a myth built in the sand of his personal loneliness and despair? “She was Jordanian, a third year pharmacy student at AUB.” He went on and on sparing no details, their first meeting on the plane, the ski weekends, the visits to historic sites, the parties, and even their love-making. He was just about to relate events leading up to the restaurant explosion when he stopped in mid-sentence. That’s it. Something at the back of his mind, clearer now since he hadn’t had a drink in several months began to pull at him.