AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Were you in Washington two weeks ago?" Rapp saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes.
Donatella's mind was reeling as she tried to figure out how Mitch could have known she was in Washington. Her disguise had been perfect, and the hit had gone down without a problem. He had to know something. Whatever the case was she could not talk about it in her office. It wasn't secure. She held her index finger to her lips to signal that it wasn't safe to talk about such matters, and then said, "I was in New York but not Washington. I'm sorry I didn't call, but I was only in town for a few days."
"That's too bad." Rapp nodded and stepped back. He pointed to a tablet of paper on the desk and motioned for Donatella to answer him with a pen.
She shook her head vigorously and said, "Oh my God, I forgot all about the shoot." She pointed to the photos on her desk. "I have to tend to this right away. It's a complete disaster. Why don't we meet for a drink after work."
"I'd love to. Name a time and a place."
"Let's say six o'clock, the Jamaica Cafe."
"Sounds good to me." Rapp pointed at the paper one more time, but she shook her head even more vigorously than before. Reluctantly, he kissed her on the cheek and then mouthed the words, I need to know.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
Capitol Hill, Thursday morning
Norbert Steveken arrived at the U. S. Capitol early. He checked his gun with the Capitol Hill police officer at the security gate and went off in search of his patron. Steveken was the type of guy you had to meet five or six times before you remembered him, which suited him just fine. In his line of work it was an asset not to be noticed. Just short of five feet nine inches tall, he had brown hair and hazel eyes. He had just turned forty, and despite the paunch around his waist, he was still amazingly quick. It was the handball that he played four times a week that kept him nimble. Norbert Steveken was a tenacious little man. He'd graduated from Penn with honors and went to work for Pricewaterhouse for two years. The job as a CPA was a stepping-stone for the vocation he really wanted. Since he was a little boy Steveken had dreamed of becoming a G-man.
His hard work paid off when in 1986 he became Special Agent Norbert Steveken. It had been the greatest day of his life. With his parents and siblings in the front row, the director of the Bureau himself had sworn him in. At first he found the job exhilarating and challenging. Just the thrill of being a part of the most prestigious law enforcement fraternity in the world was enough to keep it exciting for a few years. But after that certain things started to irk him. First and foremost was the fact that after three years with the Bureau he had yet to pursue a real criminal. The bureaucracy was overwhelming; the sheer level of paperwork was staggering. It got so bad at one point that he started to wonder why he even bothered carrying a gun to work. In his fourth year things livened up a bit when he was moved to the Miami field office to help with bank robberies. That unfortunately only lasted two brief years and then it was back to Washington to push. more paper. It was in his tenth year at the Bureau that he'd met Senator Hank Clark.
It was standard procedure for the FBI to help the Senate and House conduct background checks on nominees and people being considered for sensitive positions. Steveken was tasked to work with Clark 's committee for a one-year period. It was during that time that he got to know Senator Clark very well. It was a watershed year for Steveken. Clark opened his eyes to how things really worked in Washington. It was the beginning of the end of his career as a Special Agent for the FBI.
With the financial backing of Clark, Steveken left the Bureau and started his own security consulting business. Just four years into it he was making three times more money than the director of the FBI himself; he was his own boss, his services were in demand and the mounds of paperwork were behind him.
Senator Clark knew a lot of influential people-people who were willing to pay good money to have future employees vetted. Fathers who wanted their daughters' boyfriends shadowed for a few days. Owners of companies who were willing to pay him $5,000 a day to come in and lecture their employees on industrial espionage and how to take steps to prevent it. It was a move that had worked out very well indeed.
Steveken worked his way through a labyrinth of back hallways and staircases in search of Senator Clark's hide. There were only seventy of them in the Capitol, each of them reserved for the senior most senators. A few were no better than a broom closet, most of them were good-size offices and several were as plush as a reading room from a nineteenth century men's club. Whenever a senior senator failed to come back to Washington either through defeat, retirement or death, there was a mad scramble to get his hide. These rooms were the private sanctuaries of the elite. They were used to get away from the staffers and the lobbyists, and from time to time, to cut back room deals.
Steveken found Clark 's hide on the fourth floor and knocked on the old wood door. The senator yelled for him to enter and he did. Hank Clark bounced out of his chair and came around the desk. "How the hell are you, Norb?"
"Good, Hank. Thanks for asking." Steveken grabbed the towering senator's hand and squeezed hard. They'd been on a first name basis for some time. "I apologize I couldn't get here quicker, but I was out in California working on some stuff."
"That's all right." Clark slapped his back. "I know I'm not your only client." The senator genuinely liked Steveken. He had a biting sense of humor, a cynical mind, and he was loyal. In short, he trusted him. "I appreciate you getting back here so quickly."
"No problem. What's on your mind?"
"Sit." Clark gestured to a grouping of a couch and several chairs. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"Coffee if you have it." Steveken looked out the window. This was where he usually discussed business with the senator. It was best to avoid being seen together. The former FBI agent never tired of the view. The large double-hung window was wide open to let in enough cool air to negate the old radiator that never seemed to rest. From high atop the fourth floor, the view looked to the west, taking in the full length of the National Mall.
Clark poured two cups of coffee from a thermos and asked, "How's business been? "The two men sat down, Clark on a dark brown leather couch and Steveken on a matching chair.
Steveken took a sip of coffee and said, "Great. Thanks to you." He held his mug up in brief salute to Clark.
"Well, you do good work, Norb. My fr
iends have very high standards. If you didn't perform they'd be on the phone bitching to me in a second."
"It's all about managing expectations."
"My friends have high expectations."
"Yes, but I never promise them anything I know I can't deliver, and most important, I always put it in writing." Steveken took a sip from his mug. "People tend to have very convenient memories when it comes to verbal contracts."
Clark laughed. "Yes, they do."
"So what's on your mind?"
