Georgie stepped through sliding doors out onto a wide, gently curving balcony that ran the full length of the condo. Beyond it lay an unobstructed view of the Potomac River and the Georgetown waterfront.
Moving to the cement-and-iron railing, she looked out on a rare calm D.C. bathed in a golden focus on a Saturday morning in late June. At nearly a dozen stories up, the air lifting off the river was cool and crisp and clean, something seldom experienced in D.C. in the summer at ground level.
When she heard the doors sliding open behind her, Georgie turned her head. “This is just perfect. I could live right here, on the balcony, for a week and take pictures from sunup to sunset.”
Frank pulled the door shut, limping slightly as he came toward her. “This is what I brought you here for. You’re going to take photographs from this balcony that will win you a Pulitzer.”
“Sure, as long as you’re planning to hijack next year’s selection committee.”
“That won’t be necessary. You’ll get your photos this morning.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Instead of answering, Frank drew back his arm and pitched her cell phone out over the edge of the balcony.
Chapter Ten
“Frank? What are you doing?”
“Sorry, Georgie.” He limped over to her. “I don’t have time to explain everything. You’ll just have to trust me. I’ve made all the arrangements. Now you’re in place, too.”
Georgie backed up a step. “You’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”
He smiled, one corner of his mouth drooping. “After a while people like us become familiar fixtures, even in paranoid D.C. We’re there all the time but no one notices the press corps. That allows me a great deal of freedom. We can come and go as we like without anyone getting suspicious.”
“I don’t understa—” Her stomach did a flip that left her feeling sick. “Oh, Frank. No. What have you done?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
Feeling her knees melt, she grabbed the railing for support. “The FBI came to see me after my break-in. They told me I took pictures of an event where an unexploded bomb was later found. Are you involved?”
He sighed. “We gave the FBI all the photos that came in to our AP office from that event but they were especially interested in yours. I worried you would figure it out if the authorities came to you and you went over your photos.”
“There were no photos.”
“Still, I had to check and be certain.”
Even as his response sank in, that he had broken into her apartment and left the telltale trace of explosives that Zander had alerted to, Georgie’s mind retreated from that reality. “It couldn’t be you. No. That’s crazy. You couldn’t do something like that.”
“You are right. It’s not easy. I lost my courage that day. But the thing is …” He paused to wince and rub his scar. “The longer you think about something, the easier it becomes to do it. This damned head of mine is going to explode on me at a time and place I can’t control. They call that life. So, why not control an unpleasant ending like death?”
Georgie looked around wildly but there was only the wide blue sky behind her. Frank stood between her and the sliding doors. “So, you’re going to kill us?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You are my greatest achievement. I’ve nurtured your talent, guided you, given you every break I could fashion for you. You’re better than me behind the lens. You have a sensibility that is innate. Now the world will see what I’ve seen in you all along. You’re going to record the drama of this day.”
Georgie tried to fast-forward through her careening thoughts to the key facts. He wanted her to take pictures of a bombing. From this balcony!
She tossed a look over her shoulder as if she might be able to get a clue from the view. “There’s a bomb out there? Where?”
He rubbed his scar a little more forcefully than before. “Don’t worry. I’ve planned it all. Every detail. This is your big chance. The story has everything. High drama. Pathos. Betrayal, loyalty, a kidnapping. Lost love. Everyone from the tabloids to the New Yorker will have a field day dissecting and analyzing the results. It will be news for weeks.”
For the first time in a week, Georgie wished she was wired. “What if they don’t believe you? What if they think I knew about this and I’m arrested, too? The FBI has been following me. I-I’m wired. Have been all week.”
He frowned. “Are you wired now?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ve nothing else to say. We just wait.”
Georgie took a step toward him. “Frank, please. Where is the bomb? I can’t live with knowing that people who did nothing are about to die.” She searched her mind frantically for a way to connect to him. She took another step toward him. “You’re not thinking right. This has got to be the tumor. It’s doing something to you. I promise I’ll do everything I can to help you. I’ll talk to everyone I know. There are medical trials going on all the time. I’ll get you help.”