back to Maryland, but to a different destination—Merrittville. If he needs to refuel, he should do it as soon as he lands.”
There was no hesitation. “Want some help in Merrittville?”
“Not this time.” Getting himself into trouble by bucking Bridgeman was one thing; getting his people into trouble was an entirely different matter.
“Merrittville,” Bash repeated thoughtfully. “Doesn’t Martin Chapman have a place near there?”
“Sometimes your memory is too good.”
“Are you going to Chapman’s? Will the Eichels and Judd be there, too?”
“Yes to your questions, but you don’t get any more. And keep what I just told you to yourself. I’ll see you at Langley.” Feeling marginally better to have made a decision, he drank more Jack. Then he dialed Judd Ryder again.
“What in hell’s going on, Tucker?” Judd wanted to know.
“I’m flying out to join you. Are you at Chapman’s yet?”
“I’m about fifteen miles away. Why are you coming?”
“I’ll fill you in when I get there. I’ll be bringing dossiers on the Padre, the Carnivore, Eli Eichel, Krot, and Seymour. I’m hoping there’s a clue in there about this situation. I’m commandeering one of Langley’s choppers. There’s an old airfield outside town. Meet me there.”
After giving Judd directions, Tucker capped the bottle, set it back inside the file cabinet drawer, and put on his heavy wool overcoat. He strode out the door and down the hall. He could hear the tapping of Gloria at work on her computer keyboard.
He stopped at her desk.
She looked up. Her forehead crinkled as she saw his overcoat. “You’re going out again? It’s not on your schedule.”
“I’m impressed you still think I have a schedule, and that if I had one, I could stick to it.”
“Being an optimist keeps me young.” The smile lines around her eyes deepened.
“I like getting old. I’m good at it. I’ve got the printouts of the reports on the Carnivore and the Eichel brothers that you assembled. Now I need ones on the Padre, Krot, and Seymour.”
“No kidding. Krot and Seymour, too. But don’t worry. I’m not going to ask.”
“Good. And I want up-to-the-minute satellite photos of Martin Chapman’s horse farm and the country around it. Building plans, too, if you can get them. Send everything to my secure handheld. I need all of it in an hour.”
She took off her glasses and stared at him. “Where are you going?”
“To Langley.”
“And then you’ll be back?”
“Not until late.” He glanced around. “When the chopper I requisitioned for Bash returns to Langley I’m going to nab it and head north, too. Judd and I are planning a surprise visit to Martin Chapman. It’s better Bridgeman not know anything about any of this, at least not yet.”
She nodded. “So Bash’s report about the hunt club was bad news?”
“Like the Titanic .”
ELI EICHEL
[T]hose who do not have power assassinate to get it, and those who have power assassinate to keep it.
— The Assassination Business, by Richard Belfield
23
Montgomery County, Maryland
Eli Eichel stopped the Dodge van at a reinforced wrought-iron entrance gate. Above it arched an ornate wrought-iron sign:
The Chapman Farm
Arabian Horses
He rolled down his window and touched the intercom button.
A voice answered instantly: “Good evening, sir. What can we do for you?”
“I’m a friend of the Padre’s,” Eli lied. “I’m here to give Mr. Chapman an update on Judd Ryder.”
“I’ll relay your message.”
Closing his window, Eli looked up, studying the place. On the other side of the gate, a wide drive climbed past mounds of snow and picturesque wood corrals to a plantation-style mansion that was as white and fancy as a wedding cake. Fronted by stately columns, the house boasted railed porches across each of its three stories. The compound was highly secure, with closed-circuit cameras and electrified concertina wire atop the granite wall that
There was no hesitation. “Want some help in Merrittville?”
“Not this time.” Getting himself into trouble by bucking Bridgeman was one thing; getting his people into trouble was an entirely different matter.
“Merrittville,” Bash repeated thoughtfully. “Doesn’t Martin Chapman have a place near there?”
“Sometimes your memory is too good.”
“Are you going to Chapman’s? Will the Eichels and Judd be there, too?”
“Yes to your questions, but you don’t get any more. And keep what I just told you to yourself. I’ll see you at Langley.” Feeling marginally better to have made a decision, he drank more Jack. Then he dialed Judd Ryder again.
“What in hell’s going on, Tucker?” Judd wanted to know.
“I’m flying out to join you. Are you at Chapman’s yet?”
“I’m about fifteen miles away. Why are you coming?”
“I’ll fill you in when I get there. I’ll be bringing dossiers on the Padre, the Carnivore, Eli Eichel, Krot, and Seymour. I’m hoping there’s a clue in there about this situation. I’m commandeering one of Langley’s choppers. There’s an old airfield outside town. Meet me there.”
After giving Judd directions, Tucker capped the bottle, set it back inside the file cabinet drawer, and put on his heavy wool overcoat. He strode out the door and down the hall. He could hear the tapping of Gloria at work on her computer keyboard.
He stopped at her desk.
She looked up. Her forehead crinkled as she saw his overcoat. “You’re going out again? It’s not on your schedule.”
“I’m impressed you still think I have a schedule, and that if I had one, I could stick to it.”
“Being an optimist keeps me young.” The smile lines around her eyes deepened.
“I like getting old. I’m good at it. I’ve got the printouts of the reports on the Carnivore and the Eichel brothers that you assembled. Now I need ones on the Padre, Krot, and Seymour.”
“No kidding. Krot and Seymour, too. But don’t worry. I’m not going to ask.”
“Good. And I want up-to-the-minute satellite photos of Martin Chapman’s horse farm and the country around it. Building plans, too, if you can get them. Send everything to my secure handheld. I need all of it in an hour.”
She took off her glasses and stared at him. “Where are you going?”
“To Langley.”
“And then you’ll be back?”
“Not until late.” He glanced around. “When the chopper I requisitioned for Bash returns to Langley I’m going to nab it and head north, too. Judd and I are planning a surprise visit to Martin Chapman. It’s better Bridgeman not know anything about any of this, at least not yet.”
She nodded. “So Bash’s report about the hunt club was bad news?”
“Like the Titanic .”
ELI EICHEL
[T]hose who do not have power assassinate to get it, and those who have power assassinate to keep it.
— The Assassination Business, by Richard Belfield
23
Montgomery County, Maryland
Eli Eichel stopped the Dodge van at a reinforced wrought-iron entrance gate. Above it arched an ornate wrought-iron sign:
The Chapman Farm
Arabian Horses
He rolled down his window and touched the intercom button.
A voice answered instantly: “Good evening, sir. What can we do for you?”
“I’m a friend of the Padre’s,” Eli lied. “I’m here to give Mr. Chapman an update on Judd Ryder.”
“I’ll relay your message.”
Closing his window, Eli looked up, studying the place. On the other side of the gate, a wide drive climbed past mounds of snow and picturesque wood corrals to a plantation-style mansion that was as white and fancy as a wedding cake. Fronted by stately columns, the house boasted railed porches across each of its three stories. The compound was highly secure, with closed-circuit cameras and electrified concertina wire atop the granite wall that
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