“I told you I’m only interested in Dabney.”
“But you might be interested in Berkshire. Or at least you should be.”
She looked intrigued. “And why is that?”
“If someone blackmailed Dabney to kill Berkshire, they could be the same people he sold the secrets to, or someone who knew about it and used it to manipulate Dabney. If that’s correct, then that party is looped into this whole espionage circle and could be a national security threat. That’s right up your alley.”
They didn’t say another word until their food arrived a couple minutes later. Decker stared down at a double-stacked burger with thick bacon strips, two fried onion rings, and a fried egg topping it all, with a large steak knife drilled right through the middle of it. A giant mound of fries was delivered along with the burger.
He looked up from the meal to Brown. “You’re really going to eat this? You weigh, what, one-twenty? And you look like fat wouldn’t dare attach itself to you.”
She plucked a fry from the stack and bit half off. “Genetic gift, a fabulous metabolism. Plus, I work out, a little.”
“Right, a little.”
They began to eat. She poured ketchup onto a small plate in the middle of the table and said, “Hypothetically speaking, let’s say you’re right. How would you attack the problem?”
“Dig on both ends. We met today and discussed going at it from the two angles like I said. Maybe we get lucky and end up meeting in the middle.”
She took a bite of her burger, while Decker chewed on an onion ring.
She said, “Dabney’s end has a lot of potential suspects. Guy’s had a long career in the industry.”
“It was suggested that it might be somewhat like Strangers on a Train. The third party who has a beef against Berkshire gets Dabney to kill their enemy in exchange for their not revealing what he’s done. Dabney may have no connection to Berkshire at all.”
“He obviously had no idea we were already on to him,” said Brown thoughtfully. “Or he would have known that the game was over.”
“If he had known that, he might not have bothered to kill Berkshire.”
“Or you could be totally wrong and he did have a connection with Berkshire, only you haven’t found it yet.”
“Perfectly true,” said Decker, taking a huge bite of his burger. He dipped a fry into the ketchup, ate it, and then wiped his fingers on his paper napkin. “But we have to start somewhere. And if that is the case, we should turn that up when we look into their backgrounds, especially Berkshire’s.”
“But you have no leads right now,” she said.
“We have a clown,” said Decker.
She had taken a sip of beer and almost spit it out. “Come again?”
He told her about the possibility of the clown being the signal for Dabney.
“Let’s finish up here and go some place we can talk in private,” she said.
“Like where?”
“Like my place.”
*
After they finished their meals and she paid, Harper drove them to a street full of old high-dollar row houses that looked newly renovated. It was a couple blocks off Capitol Hill. She pulled into a space and cut the engine.
Decker looked out the car window. “Nice area.”
“Yeah, it is.”
She got out and led him to the front steps of a three-story house with a fa?ade of white-painted brick with another wing fronted by stone. The door was solid wood and looked about a century old. There was a gas lamppost in the small front yard, which was enclosed by a three-foot-high wrought iron fence. She opened the door and turned off the alarm. Decker followed her inside.
The interior was warm and inviting, the furnishings tastefully selected, the rugs thick and subtly patterned and colorful. The walls were brick in some places, stone in others, and solid plaster in still others. What looked like original oil paintings hung on several walls.
Brown led Decker into a small study off a kitchen that was outfitted with stainless steel appliances, granite counters, a pot filler over the Viking range, and cabinets that looked straight out of a Tuscan villa. She poured herself a scotch from a small bar set against one wall and asked Decker if he wanted one.
“Scotch isn’t really my thing.”
She sat down across from him in a leather wing chair. She picked up a remote on a side table, pressed a button, and a fire burst forth in the stone fireplace situated in the center of one wall.
She took off her holster and set her gun down on the table next to her. She slipped off her shoes, curled her legs up under her, and cradled her drink.
“You must be wondering how a federal agent can afford a place like this,” she said. “And the BMW.”
“Never crossed my mind.”
She smiled. “Ever heard of Hewlett-Packard?”
“Me and a few billion other people.”
“My great-grandfather was one of the earliest investors in HP and about six other now–Fortune 500 companies. He set up a trust fund. I also inherited money from him. When my parents died, I inherited still more. This house actually belonged to my grandfather.”
“Must be nice.”
“It is nice. I feel very fortunate.”
He eyed the Beretta. “But you obviously didn’t take the path of living off your money and doing nothing else with your life.”
“I came by that naturally. My father was military. Maxed out as a full colonel. He was in Vietnam, two Purples and a Bronze. He was a helluva soldier.”
“That’s impressive, Agent Brown.”
“Just make it Harper. We’re off duty, Amos. My father was the reason I joined up. He could have sat back and lived off money he didn’t earn too. But he decided to put on the uniform and serve.”
“So you were in the military?”
“Technically, I still am. Army. Did two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.”
“What was your job?”
“EOD specialist.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Sorry, we tend to talk in acronyms. Explosive ordnance disposal specialist. I defused unexploded bombs and IEDs.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Everything over there was dangerous. It was dangerous waking up and it was dangerous going to sleep. And it was dangerous for everything in between.”
“I can see that. Is that what your dad did in the military?”
“No. He thought I was a nut job for joining the EOD. But I was really good at it.” She took a sip of her drink. “So, back to the case. You proposed an arrangement of some type?”
“I think working together makes sense. But you obviously wanted to talk in private, which is why we’re here.” He sat back and eyed her expectantly.
She rubbed her bare foot and took a few moments to marshal her thoughts.
“The secrets that Dabney sold were critical to the security of this country. Without going into too much detail, he may have divulged a back door into some of our most important cyber-security platforms.”
“Wait a minute! You told me before that these stolen secrets had to do with tanks and planes and stuff terrorists couldn’t afford to build.”