The bastards had pictures of him and a prominent congressman’s fifteen-year-old daughter.
Complying with his instructions, Steve had raced to the appointed place, arriving in less than ten minutes. The Lincoln picked him up and whisked him off toward Dupont Circle. Alicia was wandering around D.C., and his job was to get her in the car. She trusted him. If she saw him, she’d cooperate.
They were right, of course, which he found only marginally comforting. If he was going to be blackmailed by Nazi goons, he wanted them to be smart Nazi goons, ones who wouldn’t get caught and expose him. He would do their bidding and hope they went away once they’d run out of dirty work for him.
When he’d spotted Quinn Harlowe, he had experienced a moment of panic. Quinn was a historian, not an attorney, but the Harlowes were notorious for noticing every damn thing. Probing, questioning, launching headfirst into danger. Quinn said she wasn’t like her forebears, but that was denial. Hadn’t she quit a secure job and gone out on her own at thirty-two? Wouldn’t it occur to her that she might need a few more years of salaried work under her belt, that she might just screw up and lose her shirt.
As far as Steve was concerned, courageous people made cowards like him look bad, and often got them in trouble.
He had to admit the situation he was in right now was his own fault. He’d been stupid and weak.
Fortunately, the car’s tinted windows prevented Quinn or anyone from seeing into the back seat, and the Nazis, experts in defensive driving, had moved fast.
But Steve knew he’d die with the image burned into his brain of Alicia’s look of relief turning to horror when she saw the two men in the front seat and realized he’d betrayed her.
The sedan stopped just long enough for him to hit the pavement, then pulled back onto Pennsylvania Avenue, becoming just another Lincoln Town Car on D.C.’s jam-packed streets, Washington’s notorious traffic even worse during cherry-blossom season. The annual two weeks of insanity would be over soon. With any luck, Steve thought, so would his month of nightmares.
He adjusted his suit coat and tie and took out a folded handkerchief, mopping his brow. Nothing he could do about his saturated shirt. He’d been sweating like a pig since the call to come meet these guys. Fortunately, he hadn’t had time to eat. Otherwise he’d have barfed up his lunch by now.
He slowed his pace as he approached the imposing neoclassical headquarters of the United States Department of Justice, a massive building that occupied the entire block between Pennsylvania Avenue and Constitution Avenue. His excitement at finding out he’d be working under Deputy Assistant Attorney General Gerard Lattimore himself had faded in his two months on the job. Now he had not only betrayed Alicia, his only real friend at DOJ, but also the hundreds of superb, honorable DOJ employees who’d be tarnished by what he’d done.
But he was an aberration. Duplicitous, reprehensible. Scum. He’d known what he was doing, both with the congressman’s underage daughter and with Alicia. The kind of risks he took were never for anything noble or remotely worthy. With the congressman’s daughter-sexual gratification. With Alicia-saving his own skin. At least with his sexual escapades he could rationalize his behavior by deluding himself into believing he was the only one who got hurt.
But after seeing Alicia stuffed in the back seat of the Nazis’ car, whimpering and twitching, he no longer could deceive himself.
The goons can’t have any reason to want her dead.
Steve arrived at his cubicle. Who the hell was he kidding? These bastards were true believers. He had no doubt they’d kill anyone who got in their way. Alicia. Him. He didn’t know how Alicia had run afoul of them-he didn’t want to know. But, clearly she had.
A message from Quinn Harlowe was on his voice mail. His heart pounded as he listened to her tight, controlled voice, asking him to call her as soon as possible.
He checked his cell phone. She’d left a message there, too. He used it to return her call.
She picked up on the first ring. “Steve, thanks for getting back to me. I know you and Alicia have become friends-have you seen her this afternoon by any chance?”
“I haven’t seen her at all today. As far as I know, she didn’t come in to work. I thought she was still at your cottage. What’s going on?”
“I saw her about a half hour ago. I was having coffee down the street from my office, and she stopped by. She was upset about something and wanted to talk to me about it, but she ran off before I could find out what was wrong.”
“Why did she run off?”
“The owner of the coffee shop misread the situation and threatened to call the police.”
Steve felt a fresh rush of sweat on his brow. The police. “He didn’t go through with it?”