“And how do you know about Speed Racer? That show was on back in the ’60s. How old are you?”
She did not answer him. Instead she said, “Why not just hire the cab to take us where we wanted to go? Why steal a car? Then drive like an idiot. You could have hurt someone.”
He sat back against the wall. “You need to go home, get your calculator, and chase tax evaders. This line of work is not for you.”
“I get the job done,” she said. “And without causing so much trouble. It’s not necessary.”
He stared at her with eager eyes. “I wish it weren’t. But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. We can only hope Kim didn’t get away.”
On that he was right. The documents had to be found. Those were her orders. But to do that she had to find Cotton Malone. Which did not seem like an easy task. And thanks to the wiseass sitting across the cell from her, Malone may be the only lead left.
Metal doors opened beyond the bars and she saw a man in a damp suit enter the holding area. He was middle-aged with a balding head, an untidy mustache, and a bow tie. He walked alone, the doors closing behind him. He approached the cell and introduced himself as a deputy attaché with the American embassy.
“I drove down from Zagreb,” the man said.
Daniels stood. “About time, we’ve got things to do.”
“The charges against you are quite serious. The Croats want to prosecute.”
“And I want to win the lottery, but neither one of those is goin’ to happen.”
“There’s no need to be obstinate,” the man said.
She couldn’t resist. “You should see him when he really gets mad.”
Daniels chuckled. “Real cute. Look, we’re on a mission, dispatched through the Justice Department for me, Treasury for her. Were you advised?”
Their savior nodded. “Oh, yes, I received a briefing from the secretary of state himself. He told me to get you out of here immediately.”
“Then why are we talking through these bars?”
She wanted to know, “What about Cotton Malone? Do you know anything about him?”
The man nodded. “I just spent the last half hour with Mr. Malone.”
Now she was interested. At least she knew Malone was nearby. “Where is he?”
“At the American Corner. It’s within the city library, not far.”
He explained that the corner comprised a collection of books and DVDs about American life, history, and society. There were eight such repositories scattered around Croatia, the first ever opened here in Zadar. The host library provided shelf space, utilities, an Internet connection, and an on-site coordinator. The embassy contributed a television, DVD player, and several computers.
“It’s a way local people can learn about us firsthand, on their own. I helped set the program up.”
“I can see you’re proud,” Daniels said. “But can you get us out of here.”
The man nodded. “Of course. Mr. Malone said I was to bring you straight to him at the library.”
Something was bothering her. “You said the secretary of state called you personally?”
He nodded and produced his cell phone. “Right on this. Quite exciting, actually. The embassy is two hours away in Zagreb, but I was already on the way here to Zadar for the day on other business. The secretary told me to first contact Mr. Malone and take him to the library, then come straight here.”
His tone was curt and precise, straight to the point, which she liked.
But his directness clearly irritated Daniels.
Which she also liked.
“The charges are all being dropped,” the envoy said. “We’ll make restitution to the cabdriver for his vehicle, along with a little extra to compensate for his trouble. Luckily, no one was hurt, which will make this much easier to handle.”
“And my phone?” Daniels asked.
“Oh, I’m glad you reminded me.”
He fished two units from his jacket pocket and handed them through the bars. “For both of you.”
“I need to make a call,” Daniels said.
“They don’t work in here,” the envoy noted. “It’s a police station, you know.”
“Then get us out.”
She agreed. The quicker she rid herself of Luke Daniels the better. Now that she knew where Malone was located, she’d get there herself and talk to him directly. Hopefully, he had the documents, or at least knew where they were located.
“The officers will be right along to open the cell.”
“Thank you,” she said, offering a smile. “Mr. Daniels and I are not meant to be kept so close together. I’m anxious to be on my way.”
“But that’s not possible,” the envoy said.
She saw the comment grabbed Daniels’ attention, too. “What do you mean? Let her be on her way, by all means.”
“I was told to bring Ms. Schaefer along. She was not to go off on her own. Those were my orders.”
She wanted to know, “From who?”
“The secretary of state said those came directly from the president of the United States.”
FORTY-TWO
WASHINGTON, DC
10:30 A.M.
Stephanie examined the cache inside a closed room with the secretary of Treasury, who’d brought out everything Paul Larks had supposedly copied.
“Joe, you have to explain. Why was this stuff classified? It’s a bunch of nothing.”
He shrugged. “That’s a good question. But the decision to classify was made by other people a long time ago. I assume they had their reasons.”
“Is this everything Larks took?”
He nodded. “It’s all there. That’s it.”
She knew he was lying. Cotton had briefed her on what he’d learned at his end, including the presence of a 1913 solicitor general memo and an original crumpled sheet with numbers that Paul Larks had stolen.
Neither was here.
“Joe, I’m going to assume that you’re trying to help. That whatever is going on is so bad you want to protect the president, protect the country.” She paused. “But you have to stop lying to me.”
He seemed to sense something from her tone. “What do you know?”
“My man on the scene has learned a lot.”
“Far more than my eyes and ears.”