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Clark didn’t buy Cameron’s story. Rapp was too smart for that. He’d want to know who was the real power behind Cameron. But now wasn’t the time to push him. “Is Duser dead?”
“I assume he is.”
“Or he’s being interrogated.”
Cameron was ready for this one. “There’s nothing he can tell them. He doesn’t know anything about me.”
Clark wished he shared his minion’s confidence, but the fact was he didn’t. “What do you propose we do?” The question was asked not out of sincerity but in an effort to make Cameron think his opinion was valued.
“I think it is time to lie low for a while. Let the trail die with Duser.”
“Retreat now so we can fight under more favorable circumstances.”
“Exactly.”
“You don’t think there is any way Duser can lead Rapp back to you?”
“No.” Cameron shook his head. “That’s assuming he’s alive, which I very much doubt. I was very careful in dealing with him.”
“Good.” Again, Clark did not share Cameron’s confidence, but he didn’t let on. “Are you sure you don’t want to take one more shot at Rapp?”
Cameron thought about it for a moment. “I would…I really would, but I think things are a little too hot right now. If we just let things cool down a bit, it will be considerably easier to deal with him.”
“I think you’re right, my friend.” Clark thought to himself, It’s too bad you won’t be around to see it. “How would you like to proceed?”
“I think I should leave the country for a few weeks.”
Clark nodded. “I agree. Do you have any place in mind?”
“A few.”
“How about my island?”
Cameron was hoping the senator would offer his private retreat in the Bahamas, but after the recent debacle he didn’t dare ask for it. “The island would be perfect. I could avoid customs.”
“Good. I will leave it up to you to handle the details. You’ve been very valuable to me, Peter. I can’t afford to lose you right now.”
Cameron smiled. He was relieved that Clark had taken the news so well. “You’re not going to, sir. I’ll personally take care of Rapp when I get back.”
“Good. When will you leave?”
“Later this morning. I have to stop by my office at GW and take care of a couple of things, and then I’m off.”
“You’re not going home at all?”
“No. I already have everything I need.”
“Good.” Clark stood and walked Cameron to the door. “Call me when you leave the office and then again when you’ve made it safely to the island.”
“I will, sir.”
At the door, Clark placed a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. “Peter, I want you to be really careful.”
“Thank you, sir. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” The two men exchanged handshakes, and then Cameron was gone. Clark immediately closed the door and went back into his study, where he turned on his computer. After it warmed up, he went on-line and sent a message to the Colonel, giving him very specific instructions on how to proceed. At the end, he decided to throw in one more sentence of incentive. When Clark was done, he sent the message and logged off. With any luck, he would be rid of Cameron before the morning was over.
Donatella Rahn was sitting on the floor of her hotel room in the lotus position. Her breathing was rhythmic and effortless, like gentle waves rolling onto a quiet beach. She had slept well. For years the simple act of sleeping had been her own personal Holy Grail. No matter what she tried, or how hard she tried, the quest remained elusive. It was either the killing or the demons of her drug addictions, or probably both. The faces of her victims haunted her during the lonely dark hours from midnight to sunrise. At first she tried drugs, and with predictable results: she became addicted and strung-out. After a month of treatment at a private facility in the hills north of Milan, she was off the sleeping pills.
