inhibitions in a way that hurts no one.”
“Tell that to Easton … and his twins.”
Madame Rosa hesitated. “That was an entirely different situation.”
“And quite puzzling, if you ask me.” Blaine walked over to the bank of six video monitors. “I assume there’s another of these at your security station.”
“Of course.”
Blaine nodded. “So two men were able to bypass all this surveillance to get in and out of the building and murder three people in between. Something smells.”
“They were professionals.”
“So am I.”
“Maybe the killers were just better.”
“More likely they had inside help.”
Madame Rosa’s features flared. “I will not stand here and—”
“I’m not finished yet. Not only did they get in and out without being seen, they also knew exactly what room Easton would be found in. No need for trial and error, right?”
“He used the same room all the time,” she replied defensively.
“But someone would have had to tell the killers that, wouldn’t they? And maybe this same person, or persons, looked the other way, perhaps pulled the plug on your million-dollar surveillance for five minutes or so Monday afternoon.” Blaine paused. “You’re still standing there, madame.”
“Your conclusions are unfounded. Discretion has always been a primary concern here. My people go through more security checks than the President’s staff.”
“What about beyond your people?” he challenged her. “Someone might have known something. Enough.”
“No,” the woman replied after a pause long enough to convince Blaine she was holding something back.
“Madame Rosa,” he began more compassionately, forming a lie, “I’m here on no one else’s authority but my own. This is purely personal. The killers of Tom Easton cannot be allowed to go unpunished. Otherwise, none of our kind are safe.”
“There is nothing I know that can help, I assure you.” Her eyes softened and she seemed to feel less threatened. “But if there’s anything else I can do …”
Blaine nodded. “I’m retracing all of Easton’s steps up to the time he died. I’d like to see the room where he was killed.”
Chapter 6
“I’LL HAVE CHEN SHOW you upstairs,” Madame Rosa said. “But the authorities have been over the room a dozen times. You won’t find anything they haven’t already.”
“Won’t know that till I try, madame.”
Madame Rosa accompanied Chen and Blaine to the stairs and left them to go up on their own. Following behind the Oriental, Blaine drastically altered his estimation of the man, or perhaps just conceded it. He had known Chen’s kind many times over the years, mostly in ‘Nam. Quick, silent killers who could move with the air and vanish into the wind. They were nimble and lithe, capable of killing efficiently with their bare hands. McCracken had heard of several large and powerful men like himself who had fallen prey to their misjudgments of killers like Chen. He would have to make sure he didn’t follow them.
Blaine kept his distance as Chen led him to the third floor and unlocked a door no different from the others.
The inside of the room was something else again.
Obviously, Washington or Langley or both had decreed that it be left as it was, and no amount of days since the killing could stop Blaine’s stomach from pitching. The blood was everywhere, dried and blotchy, splattered against the walls and floor, soaked into the sheets. The scent of incense was thick in the air, but nothing could erase the lingering smells of death or the feeling of it. McCracken felt certain that even blindfolded he would have been able to pick this room as the one where violent death had occurred. A bit queasy, he stepped farther inside. Chen remained in the corridor and pulled the door three quarters closed.
Blaine could see it all happening in his mind. The children rolling atop Easton, young faces mechanical and uncertain, innocence adding to their fear and thus the
“Tell that to Easton … and his twins.”
Madame Rosa hesitated. “That was an entirely different situation.”
“And quite puzzling, if you ask me.” Blaine walked over to the bank of six video monitors. “I assume there’s another of these at your security station.”
“Of course.”
Blaine nodded. “So two men were able to bypass all this surveillance to get in and out of the building and murder three people in between. Something smells.”
“They were professionals.”
“So am I.”
“Maybe the killers were just better.”
“More likely they had inside help.”
Madame Rosa’s features flared. “I will not stand here and—”
“I’m not finished yet. Not only did they get in and out without being seen, they also knew exactly what room Easton would be found in. No need for trial and error, right?”
“He used the same room all the time,” she replied defensively.
“But someone would have had to tell the killers that, wouldn’t they? And maybe this same person, or persons, looked the other way, perhaps pulled the plug on your million-dollar surveillance for five minutes or so Monday afternoon.” Blaine paused. “You’re still standing there, madame.”
“Your conclusions are unfounded. Discretion has always been a primary concern here. My people go through more security checks than the President’s staff.”
“What about beyond your people?” he challenged her. “Someone might have known something. Enough.”
“No,” the woman replied after a pause long enough to convince Blaine she was holding something back.
“Madame Rosa,” he began more compassionately, forming a lie, “I’m here on no one else’s authority but my own. This is purely personal. The killers of Tom Easton cannot be allowed to go unpunished. Otherwise, none of our kind are safe.”
“There is nothing I know that can help, I assure you.” Her eyes softened and she seemed to feel less threatened. “But if there’s anything else I can do …”
Blaine nodded. “I’m retracing all of Easton’s steps up to the time he died. I’d like to see the room where he was killed.”
Chapter 6
“I’LL HAVE CHEN SHOW you upstairs,” Madame Rosa said. “But the authorities have been over the room a dozen times. You won’t find anything they haven’t already.”
“Won’t know that till I try, madame.”
Madame Rosa accompanied Chen and Blaine to the stairs and left them to go up on their own. Following behind the Oriental, Blaine drastically altered his estimation of the man, or perhaps just conceded it. He had known Chen’s kind many times over the years, mostly in ‘Nam. Quick, silent killers who could move with the air and vanish into the wind. They were nimble and lithe, capable of killing efficiently with their bare hands. McCracken had heard of several large and powerful men like himself who had fallen prey to their misjudgments of killers like Chen. He would have to make sure he didn’t follow them.
Blaine kept his distance as Chen led him to the third floor and unlocked a door no different from the others.
The inside of the room was something else again.
Obviously, Washington or Langley or both had decreed that it be left as it was, and no amount of days since the killing could stop Blaine’s stomach from pitching. The blood was everywhere, dried and blotchy, splattered against the walls and floor, soaked into the sheets. The scent of incense was thick in the air, but nothing could erase the lingering smells of death or the feeling of it. McCracken felt certain that even blindfolded he would have been able to pick this room as the one where violent death had occurred. A bit queasy, he stepped farther inside. Chen remained in the corridor and pulled the door three quarters closed.
Blaine could see it all happening in his mind. The children rolling atop Easton, young faces mechanical and uncertain, innocence adding to their fear and thus the
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