CHAPTER 63
“What the hell is this guy doing?” Sean said. An Amtrak train rumbled past on elevated tracks nearby.
“I’m telling you,” Emily said, “I bet you the envelopes have dirt on someone, and Mason James is sending a message.”
“How do you think he got into that Range Rover?” Sean said.
“You can buy a universal key fob. You can get one that will open almost any electronic car lock.”
Sean gave his wife a sideways look.
She shrugged. “Read about it on the Internet. I was trying to figure out how they got that bottle of whiskey in our car.”
A universal key fob could explain how Kenny got inside the vehicle. Another possible connection between Kenny and the senator. He watched as the man disappeared around the corner, turning in the direction of the Capitol.
“Let’s get the plate number of the Range Rover,” Sean said. They hurried down the hill and through the lot. Sean snapped a photo of the license plate with the camera on his mobile phone. When he turned to continue their tail of Mole Face, the sign on the silver awning hanging over the front of the building caught his eye: DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS.
They caught up with Mole Face again and shadowed him several blocks, keeping their distance and trying to look like tourists wandering the city. That got harder as the man hiked down Third Street and pedestrian traffic became sparse. They watched from afar as Mole Face vanished into a structure near the corner of Third and East Capitol. As they got closer, they were met with a sign that read FOLGER SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY. Emily seemed to read it in Sean’s face: Not another fucking library.
“I can go in,” she said. “You stay here since he won’t recognize me.”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
A sign at the entrance of the library bragged that it housed the world’s largest collection of Shakespeare materials and rare Renaissance books. As they entered the Reading Room, Sean regretted coming inside. Like the Supreme Court’s library, the space was all carved mahogany, long wooden tables, and chandeliers under a gilded ceiling. It was smaller than the high court’s library, but it had the same feel. They looked about and didn’t see Mole Face, or anyone for that matter. No employees, nobody. Sean assumed that, tucked away in an isolated part of the Hill, the library wasn’t on many tourist agendas. He and Emily climbed the steps to a second-floor balcony that overlooked the Reading Room.
They were about to leave when Emily stopped in place, head tilted to the side, listening. From the far corner of the library, below them, whispers. She padded softly toward the sound, Sean at her heels. They stopped just above the hushed voices. The people talking—it sounded like two men—were concealed under the balcony, surrounded by old books. And then they came into view.
Sean and Emily crouched, hoping they wouldn’t be spotted. A man, whose back was turned, was poking his finger at Mole Face. The man’s whispers grew louder and more heated, and Mole Face seemed to be enjoying it. The man finally let out a disgusted sound and stormed off.
Emily grabbed Sean’s hand and pulled him away from the edge of the balcony so their backs were pressed against the wall, just out of view of anyone on the first floor. They watched as the unknown man stalked out of the library. It was then Sean noticed it.
Emily started to head for the stairs to follow the man, but Sean grabbed her arm.
“We need to see who that was,” Emily whispered.
Sean shook his head. He didn’t need to see the man’s face. His limp—an injury sustained on the field at Notre Dame—gave him away.
CHAPTER 64
They held back several minutes, but still managed to catch up to Mole Face and track him back to Dupont Circle. By then, it was late afternoon and Mole Face went to a bar just off the circle. He spoke with a couple of guys at the door. The men were holding hands, hardly an unusual sight in Dupont. From the distance it was unclear if he was friends with them or just making small talk.
“This is where he went every day I followed him,” Emily said.
So, Mole Face met with Supreme Court justice Thaddeus Carr. What was that about? And who were the recipients of the envelopes Mole Face had delivered? The senator and Mole Face were clearly engaged in dirty tricks. But what could that mean for Ryan? How did it change anything? The senator still had the photos and steel rod.
“I suppose we can try to run the Range Rover’s plates. And maybe we can find out who lives at the places where he made the drops,” Sean said.
Emily said, “I told you, I already Googled the addresses. I couldn’t find—”
“I know someone with much better Internet skills than either of us.”
“Who? Jonathan?”