“And Anne Berkshire?”
The man shook his head. “No. Don’t remember her. But, man, lots of people pass along here during the course of a day. Faces get jumbled after a while.”
“I hear you,” said Decker. “Do you remember seeing a clown that day? The person would’ve been up the street from you, closer to the café where Dabney was waiting.”
“Give me a sec.”
A truck with “GSA” painted on the sides had turned toward the underground garage entrance and the guard walked over to speak the driver.
As Decker watched, the driver showed his ID and paperwork and then the guard pulled his walkie-talkie and spoke into it. Another guard came out a few seconds later with a bomb-sniffing dog. Another guard followed with a device that had a mirror used to look under vehicles. The two guards and the dog performed their tasks as the guard Decker had been talking to rejoined him.
The man nodded. “Yeah, I did see the clown. I was thinking it was a little early for Halloween.”
“You didn’t happen to see where the clown went?”
“No. I keep my eyes roaming around, mostly looking for folks paying the Hoover Building too much attention.”
“Is that a problem?” asked Jamison.
“You get crazies for sure. Most are harmless. But it only takes one. And we’ve had problems.”
Decker looked around. “Do you have exterior surveillance cameras?”
The guard stepped closer and his voice dropped. “Dirty little secret is we used to. I mean the cameras are still there and visible, but most aren’t operational. One reason we’re moving out of this space. Place is falling apart.”
“Right,” said Decker. “Well, thanks.”
They continued on and reached the spot where Dabney had shot Berkshire. Decker stopped and looked down at the pavement.
“Are you seeing blue?’ asked Jamison.
He nodded absently, lifted his gaze, and looked around. “If Dabney and Berkshire were working together, why would they meet down here? Dabney had a meeting scheduled with the Bureau. And you wouldn’t think he’d want his partner in espionage within a hundred miles of the place.”
This comment took Jamison aback as they started walking along. “Okay, I do not have an answer for that,” she said.
“And it didn’t seem to me that Dabney and Berkshire even knew each other. Forget the point that Dabney apparently needed the clown to signal him that Berkshire was coming. That doesn’t necessarily mean that Dabney didn’t know what Berkshire looked like. He might have been shown a picture of her, though none was found on his person.”
“He might have been given a picture and just memorized her features.”
“Right. The clown thing was just about timing, allowing Dabney to intercept Berkshire. But when I saw them together that morning, it did not seem to me that they knew each other.”
“And then he shot her?”
“And then he shot her,” replied Decker.
“It seems like we take a step forward on this case and then we take two steps back.”
“Sometimes it seems that way on every case,” said Decker.
“But we are going to solve this sucker, right?”
Decker didn’t answer.
CHAPTER
45
MELVIN MARS WAS WAITING out front for them when they got back to their apartment that night.
“Why didn’t you just go up, Melvin?” asked Jamison. “You have a key and the passcode.”
“It’s your place, not mine,” said Mars, smiling. “I’m not looking to intrude on your space.”
“We haven’t had dinner yet. We could go out.”
“That sounds great.”
They all turned to see Harper Brown striding over from her car.
“I’d been waiting for you to get back too,” said Brown. She looked up at Mars. “I didn’t know you were doing the same.”
“Melvin Mars, this is Agent Harper Brown with the DIA.”
Brown looked intrigued. “Melvin Mars, the former football player?”
Mars smiled. “That’s not how most people would describe me. Usually it starts with ‘You mean Mars, Melvin, that dude on Texas’s death row?’”
“And Decker got you off,” noted Brown.
“We all got him off,” said Decker. “Including Melvin. He was there at the very end when we nearly got blown up. And he’s already saved my butt up here.”
“Impressive,” said Brown. “I also read that you got a very sweet payoff from the government.”
“No more than he deserved,” said Jamison. “In fact, money doesn’t come close to compensating him for twenty years of his life.”
“I’m not arguing with that. So let’s go to dinner and I can get to know your friend better.”
“Why?” asked Decker.
“In my off hours I’m actually a very social person, Decker,” said Brown.
*
They were seated at a table in the middle of a Vietnamese restaurant in D.C. Brown had suggested it.
Decker looked at the menu and said, “I don’t recognize one thing on here.”
“I can order for you, Decker,” said Brown.
Decker dropped his menu. “Sounds good to me. Do they have fries?”
Mars handed her his menu. “I’m in the same boat as Decker, so you can order for me too.”
Brown looked at Jamison. “You good, or you want me to do the honors for you too?”
“I love Vietnamese food,” replied Jamison in an irritated voice.
When the waitress came, Brown ordered for the three of them, in Vietnamese.
“Impressive,” said Mars as the waitress walked off. “I can barely make my way around English.”
“Come on, Melvin, you graduated from UT early with a business degree,” pointed out Jamison.
“Prison doesn’t improve one’s brainpower. At least not mine. Not after twenty years.”
“Did you find anything in the files at Dabney’s office?” Decker asked Brown.
She shot Mars a glance. “I doubt he’s cleared to hear this.”
“Neither are we,” pointed out Decker. “You can trust Melvin,” he added.
“Okay, no, we found nothing in the files, but we’re still looking. We were hoping for a smoking gun but didn’t find one. How about you?”
“We haven’t found a gun, much less a smoking one. But we have questions, like if Dabney was working with Berkshire, why meet near the Hoover Building? He already had a meeting scheduled that morning. And if she was a spy I doubt she would be attending.”
“That’s true.”
“And as Jamison pointed out, if they weren’t working together it’s a helluva coincidence to have one spy kill another unrelated spy.”
Brown glanced at Jamison. “Another good observation, Jamison. You’re showing a real talent for this area.”
Jamison didn’t respond to this remark.
Decker added, “And if Berkshire wasn’t spying anymore, she had a weird retirement. Million-dollar condo and six-figure ride paired with a crappy farmhouse and an old, dented Honda.”