“Nice,” said Alex. The British didn’t mess around when it came to thwarting terrorist attacks. If a corner needed to be cut, so be it. They’d glue it back in place afterward.
“We’re pulling the director out of a breakfast meeting on Capitol Hill to deal with this,” continued McVeigh. “It’s clear he’ll have to go to the British PM. That means the president will have to be read in. You’re really putting the special relationship to the test.”
“Jan, I need a favor. About that South African e-mail address. Salt called someone named Skinner with a South African phone number immediately after talking to GRAIL.” Alex read off the number. “Give that to the boys in Tech. See if they can ping it, find out where Mr. Skinner is. If my hunch is correct, we’re not going to like the answer.”
“We’ll need a warrant for that.”
“The tape should do the trick.”
“You’re pushing things, kid.”
“Salt has a contact in the embassy here. He knew I wasn’t in England on official assignment.” Alex read off Salt’s number and gave the exact time of the call. “Trace it and let’s find out who he has on the payroll at the embassy and who his contact called in the Bureau.”
“Any ideas?”
“Someone in our office. Guarantee it.”
69
The house in McLean, Virginia, was a large two-story redbrick with black shutters and a lawn jockey out front to greet the guests. Astor held the knocker in his hand and waited until precisely 7:30 to rap three times. A man in the throes of dressing for work answered almost immediately. “Yes?”
“Mr. Nossey. I’m Bobby Astor. Sorry to disturb you so early, but I believe my father came by to see you on Sunday. May I come in?”
Nossey was slim and olive-skinned, with hair cut to the scalp and deep-set brown eyes. He wore khaki pants and a company polo shirt with Britium sewn above the left breast. Astor was in the right place.
“I’ve been expecting somebody,” said Nossey. “But I thought it would be the FBI or the police.”
“No law enforcement agents have been by?”
“Just you. I take it you’re not an agent or anything.”
“I’m a hedge fund manager. I live in New York.”
A light went on behind Nossey’s eyes. “Comstock?”
“That’s me.”
Nossey sipped from a coffee mug with the words U.S.S. DALLAS on its side. “Come in. I’m just about to shove off for work.”
“That your ship?” asked Astor, pointing to the mug.
“Sub, actually. I put in ten years aboard a nuke. In this house, a door’s a hatch, the floor’s the deck, and the bathroom is the head. Wife hates it. Kids think it’s fun as all get-out.” Nossey looked over Astor’s shoulder at the Sprinter parked at the curb. “Yours?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s bigger than some of the boats I served on. There a driver somewhere in there?”
“There is.”
“Why don’t you drive with me to the office? We can talk on the way. I have a call at nine I can’t miss. The new owners.” Nossey rolled his eyes.
“Sure thing.”
It took Nossey another ten minutes to finish his coffee, kiss his three children goodbye, and pat his golden retriever. Astor stood at the kitchen door, witnessing the daily ritual. He thought of his own daughter, Katie, currently vacationing in New Hampshire. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her in the morning before he went to work, or for that matter when he came home. The office was his wife, mistress, and child, rolled into one. He wouldn’t apologize for it, but he could at least give her a call to say hi and tell her that he loved her.
After this meeting, he told himself.
Promise.
Astor and Nossey sat in the front of a Ford Explorer cruising at 70 miles per hour along the George Washington Parkway. The Potomac flowed to their right, green and lazy. The Sprinter followed behind, more of a bodyguard than Sullivan would ever be.
“You look like him.”
“I’m taller,” said Astor.
“I’m sorry about what happened. Any news?”
“Not that I’ve heard. I’m trying to look into what happened myself. I found your address in my father’s home. He had several articles about Britium, too. You’re not planning on listing on the New York Stock Exchange anytime soon?”
“We just got bought up by Watersmark. You must know that.”
Astor nodded. “So my dad was here on other business.”
Nossey took his cue. “He surprised me, too. I mean, he didn’t call or anything. He just showed up Sunday morning on my doorstep.”