Copeland deserves all the honors he can get.”

“You’re taking this very personally.”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m feeling a little guilty. If I’d figured out the situation here sooner, maybe we could have saved Copeland.”

“And maybe not. You didn’t know that Hebert was targeting Copeland until it was almost certainly too late for him.”

“Minutes can matter when a man is dying.” She watched blindly as limousine after limousine pulled up before the church and deposited their passengers. “I don’t know if— My God.” She grabbed Nathan’s arm. “Tell me I’m crazy. Is that Thomas Simmons?”

Nathan stiffened. “Where?”

“Across the street. Green polo shirt. Hell, he’s not three yards from that Secret Service man.” Her gaze clung to the man staring intently at the arriving guests. Same pouty lips, same horn-rimmed glasses… “It is him, Nathan.”

“If not, it’s his double.” Nathan was edging toward the front of the crowd. “Let’s see if we can get closer.”

Eve pushed after Nathan through the crowd. Simmons. My God, Simmons…

Thomas Simmons suddenly lifted his head and looked directly at Nathan, who was only a few yards away now.

Nathan smiled. “Hi, could we have a few—”

Simmons turned and dove back into the crowd, pushing people out of his path. As the crowd thinned out down the street, he broke into a run.

“Shit.” Nathan took off after him.

Eve tried to run, too, but she was slowed by the crowd until she reached the end of the block. Had they gone around the corner?

Yes, she could see Nathan…

She broke into a sprint.

Almost a block away, Simmons was diving into a beige Toyota.

Nathan’s pace increased. “Stop. You can’t get away. Let me—” The Toyota peeled away from the curb and down the street.

Nathan stopped and was cursing a blue streak as he watched the car vanish out of sight.

“It was him, right?” Eve was beside him now. “It was Simmons.”

“I think so.” Nathan reached in his pocket and took out a notebook. “And I hope to hell I remember that license number.” He scrawled down a number on the pad.

“Not that it will probably do us any good if it’s a rental. Do you think Quinn can check it out?”

She nodded as she took the paper. “But what was he doing here?”

“Who knows? If he did kill those other Cabal members, then he could be picking out his next target. Or he could be following Melton, like I am. Or if he’s a total wacko, it could be any reason.” He leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath. “Jesus, I’ve got to lose weight. That run almost killed me.”

“At least we know he’s here.”

“Well, he’s definitely not a shadow.” He wrinkled his nose. “And he’s in far better shape than I am.” He straightened away from the wall. “Now I’ve got to get back and wait for Melton to dry his crocodile tears and come out of the church. Coming?” She shook her head. “I’ll phone this license number to Joe and go back to the house.”

LAKE COTTAGE

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

3:05 P.M.

October

The funeral service had already started when Galen switched on the television set.

Jonathan Andreas, the President, was standing at the podium giving the first eulogy.

Full house, Galen thought, as the camera panned the audience. There must be at least fifteen hundred people at the service. He recognized several dignitaries: Tony Blair, Norman Schwarzkopf, Colin Powell. With this kind of firepower, it would be perfectly reasonable to have—

“Could I see you for a minute, Galen?” David Hughes was standing at the doorway.

“A problem?”

“Maybe.” He was frowning. “I just don’t understand. It’s not right. Come and take a look.”

Chapter 20

« ^ »

" IT’S NOT A LOCAL RENTAL CAR.” JOE HUNG UP THE PHONE. “THEY’RE RUNNING A computer search now. It shouldn’t be too long.”

Eve frowned. “I hope not. The idea of Simmons hovering makes me very uneasy.”

“If we can nail down where he is now, I guarantee he won’t ever make you uneasy again.”

She had a sudden chilling memory of Joe and Hebert struggling in the mud. “Why do you always think that you’re the one who has to—” Her cell phone rang.

“Saved by the bell,” Joe murmured as she pressed the answer button.

“I’ve found it.” Nathan’s voice was shaking with excitement. “After the funeral, Melton met with a man outside his hotel. It was at the newsstand and it was only for a few minutes. I knew Melton was going to be surrounded by reporters, so I took a chance and followed the guy.”

“Where?”

“Fort Lauderdale Airport.”

“What?”

“Well, not actually the airport. There’s a deserted naval air station down there. It’s being fought over by the local historical society and the airport. It’s the base from where those flyers took off in 1945 and were lost in the Bermuda Triangle. There’s a big concrete building that is evidently going to be the meeting place. It’s enclosed by a chain-link fence, completely private, and guarded by at least five men besides the guy who met with Melton.”

“An airport,” Eve murmured.

“It’s perfect. The members leave Boca separately sometime after the funeral, presumably to fly out to their homes. They congregate at the naval base, have their meeting, and then go on to the airport at a staggered pace and board their flights.

Very smart.”

“But when?”

“Probably the middle of the night. They’d want the area absolutely deserted. I’ll know when Melton moves, and I’ll call you. Let me talk to Quinn.” Eve handed the phone to Joe.

He was on the phone for only a few minutes. “I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and turned to Eve. “He wants me to take the surveillance equipment to the naval base and set it up outside the fence. He said there’s no way of getting near the building with all those guards, but there’s cover close to a drainage ditch a little distance from the base. Shouldn’t be a problem. The camera and audio equipment have a range of over a mile.”

She nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Eve.”

“Don’t you say a word. Ever since I got here I’ve been twiddling my thumbs, watching all those hypocrites on television tell the world what a fine man just died.”

“Some of them were sincere.”

“But which ones? I need to find out.” Eve headed for the door. “I need the whole damn world to find out.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And there’s not going to be any leaving me on the roadside or some deserted island. We’re in this together.

Do you understand?”

“Okay, but we have to—” He broke off as his phone rang. He punched the button.

“Quinn.” He listened for a moment. “What the hell?” He stiffened. “Plastic?” FORT LAUDERDALE NAVAL AIR STATION

2:45 A.M.

October

The windows of the white concrete building were covered so that no light showed from the outside. Guards in dark clothing patrolled the area with Dobermans.

“Here comes the next one,” Joe murmured as he focused the video camera. He kept it trained on the dark sedan as the door opened and a man got out. “I recognize this one, too. Big time. Sheikh Hassan Ben Abar.” She nodded. “OPEC.”

The last hour had been an incredible parade of well-known wheeler-dealers from every walk of life. Eve took the listening device from her ear. “I can’t hear much right now. It’s cutting out. Every time an airplane takes off I get static.”

“Have you heard anything interesting?”

“Maybe. It’s definitely not small talk, but I’m not a linguist. I need to zero in on a conversation between some of the English members.” She adjusted the earpiece, turned one of the knobs on the panel in front on her. “That’s better.” She listened for a moment. “Something about a gorge. They need a clear majority because it’s high risk… What’s high risk, dammit? Talk about it.” She switched to another part of the building. “Tarrant, the British media tycoon. He’s talking money and the ramifications for the World Bank. He’s not sure how they’re going to handle the repayments if the regime falls.”