Mars looked more closely at the manhole cover. “It says Washington Gas.”
“Can you open it?”
Mars bent down and gripped the top of the cover. “Decker, it’s been sealed, look.”
Brown had come up to them. “The Secret Service seals all the manhole covers the motorcade will pass over.” She paused and looked confused. “But the motorcade is on the other block. So I don’t think they came down this way.”
“Did you reach Bogart?” asked Decker.
She nodded but looked sick to her stomach. “Decker, he’s in the Hoover Building at the ceremony.”
“Dammit. Did you tell him they need to evacuate the building?”
“I told him what you suspected, but Decker, he can’t stop the ceremony and evacuate the building based on that. He said to call him back if we come up with something else.”
“What, like when the President’s dead!” snapped Decker.
In a calming voice Mars said, “Decker, what else do you remember from that day?”
Decker focused on him. “I remember a utility truck going into the FBI building. And the guard told me that most of the exterior surveillance cameras are out of order.”
“Anything else?”
Decker glanced sharply at the building across from the Hoover.
“There were workmen carrying materials into that building.”
He led them over to it and they tried to peer through the windows, but they were taped over with thick paper on the inside. Decker tried the door. It was locked. He stepped back and looked up. “I don’t think there’s anyone in this building.”
“It’s being renovated,” said Brown, pointing at a sign on one of the windows.
“Then you think people would be here working, wouldn’t you?”
She looked confused. “Do you think there’s a sniper’s nest in there? But the motorcade is on the next street over. They’d have no shot from here.”
Decker said, “Call the gas company and find out if they had a team out here working on any lines under that manhole on the day Berkshire was killed.”
“That might take some time.”
“Just do it!” snapped Decker.
Decker pulled his phone and called Bogart. The FBI agent answered and, speaking in a low voice, said, “Decker, I already told Brown, I can’t evacuate. The ceremony just started. But—”
Decker interrupted: “What was the meeting about that Dabney was supposed to attend at the FBI when he shot Berkshire?”
“What?”
“The meeting! What was it for?”
“Why does it matter? He obviously never intended to be there.”
“But he picked that day to kill Berkshire, Ross, so just tell me!” snapped Decker.
“Okay, okay. Dabney’s firm was consulting on some renovation work here. As you know, a new building is a long way off so they have to do work on myriad systems here—security, electrical, and other infrastructure—”
Decker clicked off.
He glanced around and then hustled to an alley and turned down it.
Mars and Brown, her phone to her ear, ran after him.
Decker reached an exterior door to the building. He tried the knob but it was locked.
Brown and Mars reached him and she said, “Decker, what the hell is going on?”
“Ellie Dabney said Berkshire’s spy ring wanted her husband to work for them.”
“But he refused.”
“I think he was smarter than that. He did that video, right? I think he met with them, pretended to be interested, and felt them out for what they were interested in. And what they were interested in was his work with the FBI on renovating their building. That was the meeting he was going to when he shot Berkshire. That was his second message to us, after the location of the attack.”
“You mean the President is the target?” said Mars.
Decker didn’t answer.
“But why not just tell us directly before he shot Berkshire?” said Brown.
“Probably because he didn’t know their exact plan. And they found out about the video and removed it, which probably told him that they were watching his every move, monitoring his every communication. They probably threatened him and his family: He does anything else to thwart them, they’re all dead. This was probably the only way he could see to do it.”
“But why didn’t they kill him after they found out what he did with the video?” asked Brown.
“Because that might have drawn suspicion to him at a time when they couldn’t afford it. They probably decided it was smarter to keep a close watch on him and then strike if he showed any signs of trying to go around them again. They didn’t know the Dabneys were planning to kill Berkshire.”
He looked at Mars. “Want to pretend that door is a blocking sled?”
Mars smiled and nodded. “I feel like I wanna hit something.”
They backed up and charged forward. Nearly six hundred pounds of flesh and bone hit the door at speed.
And the door lost.
They fell to the floor on top of it but were quickly on their feet. Brown hurried in after them. Decker raced forward with the two on his heels.
The interior of the building was a shell, with cables and electrical lines dangling from the ceiling, a set of scaffolding set up in one corner, some buckets with mops in them, and a few hand tools and power saws on workbenches. And a couple of sets of working lights.
The only thing missing was anyone actually working.
“Where are the workers?” said Mars.
“Maybe because the President is here?” said Brown doubtfully.
Decker said, “This all looks staged, in case anyone bothered to look.”
“Wait a minute, what are you saying?” said Brown.
“The woman who kidnapped Alex? I told her that even if she killed us, the FBI was a big organization and would keep after her. She said, No one knows what the future will bring.”
“You’re not saying?” gasped Brown.
“The target isn’t just the President and the two other leaders. They’re just the bonus. They told us the target might be symbolic? Well, the Hoover Building is pretty symbolic.”
“There are over eleven thousand people in that building,” Brown exclaimed.
“This way!” Decker barked. He was pointing to a set of stairs leading down. As they raced down the steps he said, “Anything from the gas company?”
“You won’t be surprised to learn that they put me on hold. I’m currently listening to the Bee Gees.”
They raced down two flights until they reached the basement. This too was an open shell. They looked around until Mars said, “Over here.”
They joined him at the spot.
They were staring at a huge spool of cable against one wall. It was taller than Decker.
“What would this be doing down here?” asked Brown.
Decker peered through the opening in the middle of the spool where ordinarily a forklift’s tines would be inserted to lift it. “I can’t see through.” He stuck his arm in and felt around. “It’s been filled with something. It feels like concrete.”