She stepped down to the platform and studied both directions, checking to see who was coming on. Two cars away she spotted a man about to board. Young, dark hair, Korean face. He carried nothing, his hands jutted inside coat pockets. He tossed her a stare that contained a look of triumph, seemingly unconcerned about being inconspicuous. He wanted her to know he was there, daring her to do something about it.
A bell rang signaling the stop was over.
She stepped back onto the train.
*
Isabella had been able to ease back a few cars, keeping pace with Sung. When her target stepped down to the station’s platform, she’d watched out the window and spotted an Asian man hopping onto the train. A glance ahead and the same man now headed straight into her car and assumed a seat, his hands remaining inside his coat pockets.
This was trouble.
Hana Sung had thought so, too.
She’d caught the instant of apprehension on the young girl’s face.
The bell rang, signaling they were leaving. She rose and headed back toward the rear cars where Luke Daniels was waiting. She found him engrossed in a conversation with an older man. When he saw her, he excused himself and came a few seats up to where she’d sat.
“A new friend?” she asked in whisper.
“I thought it would help blend me in. Getting down with the locals.”
“Howell is with Kim. Sung is on the move. And we’ve got company.”
She described the potential threat waiting three cars ahead.
“He’s the bird dog,” Luke said. “Here to get the scent and flush the fox forward. The hunters are waitin’ ahead.”
“There’s one more stop before Solaris,” she said.
“And our job is to get there in one piece. But there’s no tellin’ what the other side has in mind.”
She had to admit, this was way more exciting than a tax cheat. But she also realized she was a little scared. Contrary to what she’d boasted, this was her first street fight without gloves.
“All kiddin’ aside,” he said, his voice low, “keep sharp. Don’t get yourself hurt. Okay?”
“I will, if you will.”
He smiled and pointed a finger at her. “There’s that charm again. I could grow to like that.”
Back in Zadar she’d chastised his recklessness but, truth be told, she was now comforted knowing that Luke Daniels knew how to handle himself. What was about to happen was anybody’s guess. The not knowing was the worst part. But she was confident that they could handle things.
The train started to move, leaving the station, gathering speed.
“What now?” she asked.
“We give Howell the time he needs.”
FIFTY-FOUR
Malone kept working on the cipher.
He’d switched on one of the car’s interior lights and used its amber glow to illuminate the pages before him. The envoy from the embassy had informed him a few minutes ago that they were approaching Solaris. That meant the train was not far behind. He wished he could have been aboard himself, but realized that was impossible. Luke could handle it. So could Isabella. It was Howell that worried him. He’d warned the younger man about keeping his emotions in check, but understood the pain of losing someone you cared about. Though Cassiopeia had not died in a literal sense, she was still gone. And the anxiety that came from such a loss definitely clouded judgment. He was a pro, yet it still affected him. He could only imagine what it was doing to Howell. But he’d had no choice in the matter. Kim only wanted Howell. Hopefully Luke and Isabella would catch a break and have things under control before any outsiders managed to get involved.
He’d been slowly matching the 42 numbers from Mellon’s cipher with the corresponding words in the Virginia Declaration of Rights. Thankfully, he’d guessed right and found the key. After matching the last number in the cipher he read the finished message.
Edward Savage Eleanor Custis Martha Washington 16
He didn’t have time to ascertain its meaning, which should be easy to determine given the Internet and search engines. He wanted to know what was happening on that train. But he had to stick to the plan, so he asked the envoy, “Exactly how far away are we?”
“Less than ten minutes. The train should arrive at 9:50.”
Which gave him a solid fifteen minutes of lead time. “Head straight for the station. It shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“I checked before we left and know precisely where it is located.”
He folded the page with Andrew Mellon’s decoded message and handed it to the envoy. “After you drop me off, find a landline and have the embassy transmit what I decoded to the Magellan Billet, through a secure channel. No cell phones on this one.”
The envoy nodded his understanding.
“I don’t want to spook anybody who might be waiting, so drop me a mile or so from the station and I’ll walk in.”
He checked his iPhone and saw that there was service.
Perfect.
Stick to the plan.
He dialed the number.
*
Stephanie was outside, on the Mall, in the sunshine, having fled the confines of the National Gallery. She’d taken half an hour and eaten something in the museum’s café, located belowground in a connector that bisected the street above. Chick-fil-A Man had disappeared and no one had followed her to the café or out. She was stalling for time, waiting for a reply to the message she’d sent Cotton through the State Department. Last she heard he was on his way to the Croatian interior, a town called Solaris. Everything depended on things playing out exactly as they’d anticipated. Thank God it was Cotton on the other end. He was the one person she could always depend on. He’d never let her down. The White House had called twice and she’d dodged both attempts. She realized that could only be done for so long, as the president of the United States was tough to ignore.
Her phone rang.
She was walking among the grass and bare trees just before the Smithsonian’s Museum of Natural History. The Capitol anchored the far end of the Mall behind her, the Washington Monument rising ahead. People milled back and forth in the afternoon sun, the air typically crisp for November in DC.
“I solved it,” Cotton said.
“Where are you?”
“Just about to enter Solaris and meet the train.”
“Tell me the message Mellon left for Roosevelt.”