on his computer.
“It’s actually charming,” Ellis remarked as she took in the hardwood floors in the living room, and the windows that, if she stood at just the right angle, had a view of Green Park. “Why would the ODNI spring for a place like this?”
“London hotel rates, obviously,” Carver shrugged. “At 300 pounds a night, a place this close to Parliament probably paid for itself within the first eight or nine years.”
Ellis scratched her underarm and caught a whiff of her own odor. “Mind if I shower?”
“ Ladies first.” The gesture was pure chivalry, as he himself had not had so much as a sink shower in the past 24 hours.
As he heard Ellis turn the shower on, Carver powered up his tablet, linked to the secure DNI satellite feed, and logged into the mission cloud. He was eager to see what, if anything, had been accomplished since they had stepped off the plane.
Arunus Roth had been tasked with mashing up all public information about Preston and Gish and looking for common links. He cringed when he read the kid’s summary statement: No obvious connections.
Roth had prepared a grid with key information in categories, summarizing everything from education to public perceptions about each man’s political positions. It was unlikely that either man would have been paired through a n online matchmaking algorithm. Although both were politicians, Gish was socialist-leaning in his beliefs, and Preston was so far right that he was even considered a hardline conservative in his home state of Texas. Preston was so religious that he had led prayer circles on the campaign trail, whereas the only times Gish attended church were for weddings and funerals.
Neither man had any known relatives in the other man’s country. They did not appear to be connected through any social networks. Gish had studied in D.C. for one year of college, but he was older than Preston, who would have been in high school in Texas at the time.
There were no known photos of Gish and Preston together.
There were no news articles in which the y appeared at the same time.
Nothing to go on.
The trail was getting colder every minute, and yet no one had yet analyzed the two men’s social networks for common connections. No one had yet cross-indexed the two men’s standard contacts for first and second-degree connections. No one had yet analyzed their travel itineraries for common destinations.
As Carver stared at the depressing report, a new entry came onto the screen:
Mary Borst’s body NOT FOUND on arson site. Subject is now considered a person of interest in both the arson and the death of Senator Preston. POI has been added to federal NO FLY LIST. TSA is to notify Hank Bowers immediately should she book tickets or attempt to board any aircraft. Attempts being made to contact mother and stepfather. No classified information will be offered. As far as the public is concerned, she will be considered a missing person.
Carver got up, went down the hall and found that Ellis had left the bathroom door slightly ajar.
“She’s alive,” Carver shouted t hrough the opening in the door.
“What?”
“Mary Borst is alive!”
He heard the water shut off and t rickle to a halt. “Oh my God.”
“This is getting very deep, very fast,” Carver said, still standing in the hallway, trying not to be distracted by the fact that Ellis was stark naked on the other side of the door. “Even if they manage to catch her, she couldn’t have done this alone. She’d had to have help in D .C., to say nothing of London.”
“We need to tell MI6.”
“What we need is some decent support. It’s been eight hours since we left Washington, and our guys haven’t been able to find a single connection point between Gish and Preston, other than the bizarre way they were killed.”
“You heard the president. We can’t put 50 analysts on this without raising huge red flags.”
“We don’t need 50 analysts, Haley. All we need is one
“It’s actually charming,” Ellis remarked as she took in the hardwood floors in the living room, and the windows that, if she stood at just the right angle, had a view of Green Park. “Why would the ODNI spring for a place like this?”
“London hotel rates, obviously,” Carver shrugged. “At 300 pounds a night, a place this close to Parliament probably paid for itself within the first eight or nine years.”
Ellis scratched her underarm and caught a whiff of her own odor. “Mind if I shower?”
“ Ladies first.” The gesture was pure chivalry, as he himself had not had so much as a sink shower in the past 24 hours.
As he heard Ellis turn the shower on, Carver powered up his tablet, linked to the secure DNI satellite feed, and logged into the mission cloud. He was eager to see what, if anything, had been accomplished since they had stepped off the plane.
Arunus Roth had been tasked with mashing up all public information about Preston and Gish and looking for common links. He cringed when he read the kid’s summary statement: No obvious connections.
Roth had prepared a grid with key information in categories, summarizing everything from education to public perceptions about each man’s political positions. It was unlikely that either man would have been paired through a n online matchmaking algorithm. Although both were politicians, Gish was socialist-leaning in his beliefs, and Preston was so far right that he was even considered a hardline conservative in his home state of Texas. Preston was so religious that he had led prayer circles on the campaign trail, whereas the only times Gish attended church were for weddings and funerals.
Neither man had any known relatives in the other man’s country. They did not appear to be connected through any social networks. Gish had studied in D.C. for one year of college, but he was older than Preston, who would have been in high school in Texas at the time.
There were no known photos of Gish and Preston together.
There were no news articles in which the y appeared at the same time.
Nothing to go on.
The trail was getting colder every minute, and yet no one had yet analyzed the two men’s social networks for common connections. No one had yet cross-indexed the two men’s standard contacts for first and second-degree connections. No one had yet analyzed their travel itineraries for common destinations.
As Carver stared at the depressing report, a new entry came onto the screen:
Mary Borst’s body NOT FOUND on arson site. Subject is now considered a person of interest in both the arson and the death of Senator Preston. POI has been added to federal NO FLY LIST. TSA is to notify Hank Bowers immediately should she book tickets or attempt to board any aircraft. Attempts being made to contact mother and stepfather. No classified information will be offered. As far as the public is concerned, she will be considered a missing person.
Carver got up, went down the hall and found that Ellis had left the bathroom door slightly ajar.
“She’s alive,” Carver shouted t hrough the opening in the door.
“What?”
“Mary Borst is alive!”
He heard the water shut off and t rickle to a halt. “Oh my God.”
“This is getting very deep, very fast,” Carver said, still standing in the hallway, trying not to be distracted by the fact that Ellis was stark naked on the other side of the door. “Even if they manage to catch her, she couldn’t have done this alone. She’d had to have help in D .C., to say nothing of London.”
“We need to tell MI6.”
“What we need is some decent support. It’s been eight hours since we left Washington, and our guys haven’t been able to find a single connection point between Gish and Preston, other than the bizarre way they were killed.”
“You heard the president. We can’t put 50 analysts on this without raising huge red flags.”
“We don’t need 50 analysts, Haley. All we need is one
Similar Books
