uncle’s killer before Burns did; and he wouldn’t be arresting her.
Evie finally spoke. “I don’t know anything about your boss, LaGrange, so how could I know why McBride was meeting him?”
“General LaGrange was the Special Assistant to the National Security Council,” Ducharme said. “Which is a fancy way of saying he was the military’s adviser to the Executive Branch on counter-terrorist operations. And he wasn’t my boss.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Kincannon following the conversation.
“I don’t see a connection,” Evie said. “McBride had nothing to do with terrorism or counter-terrorism. He was a newspaper editor. After he retired from the Post , he was adjunct history faculty at UVA. I have no idea if McBride knew LaGrange, but if he did, he never mentioned him to me.”
“And you would remember if he mentioned it?” Ducharme asked.
Evie nodded.
Ducharme checked his watch. He put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb.
“Were these murders a terrorist act?” Evie asked.
“Possibly,” Ducharme said. “General LaGrange was a high-level target.”
“And McBride?” she asked.
“Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Ducharme said.
“I don’t think so,” Evie said.
“Don’t think what, exactly?”
“That he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or that it was terrorism. Conspiracy, maybe, but not terrorism.”
“Conspiracy by whom?” Ducharme asked.
“I don’t know,” Evie said.
She was lying . He was sure of it. The look in Kincannon's eyes in the rearview mirror indicated he knew it, too.
“So you believe in conspiracies?” Kincannon asked.
Evie sighed. “There’s what you can see and what you can’t see.”
“Speak plainly,” Ducharme said.
"’ When all government, domestic and foreign, in little as in great things, shall be drawn to Washington as the center of all power, it will render powerless the checks provided of one government on another, and will become as oppressive as the government from which—‘” She paused as Ducharme cut in.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Those words aren’t mine,” Evie said. “They were written by Thomas Jefferson. Let me continue with President Jefferson’s words: ’But while our functionaries are wise, and honest, and vigilant, let us move compactly under their guidance, and we have nothing to fear. Things may here and there go a little wrong. It is not in their power to prevent it. But all will be right in the end, though not perhaps by the shortest means.’" She looked at Ducharme. “The question is what exactly did Thomas Jefferson mean by this last sentence?”
“I assume you’re going somewhere with this?” Kincannon asked amiably. “That there’s some connection between Thomas Jefferson and these killings?”
Evie nodded. “The Founding Fathers, particularly Jefferson, understood true power. He also understood politics, which means maneuvering for power. Jefferson was a brilliant man; perhaps the most brilliant amongst the men who founded this country, and they were a most interesting and frighteningly intelligent group, although they naturally had their personal foibles.
“John Hancock was a smuggler, a black marketer. He was also the only person to actually sign the Declaration of Independence on thefourth of July, in seventeen seventy-six. Perhaps that’s why his signature is so large: he had all that blank space to work with. Or perhaps it was because his signature matched his ego.
“Benjamin Franklin was carried to the convention hall in a chair carried by four prisoners. Not because he wanted to appear regal, but because he suffered from gout. Thomas Jefferson died deeply in debt. Most of them drank way too much—after all, you couldn’t really trust the water in those days so wine and beer were the staple drinks. As good an excuse as any. And the sex scandals—“ she shook her head. “Thomas Jefferson and Alexander
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