kidnapped or killed, but knowing Adami, I’d have to guess the latter.”
“So much for hope,” Griffin said, not that they’d ever held much. He’d been in this business far too long to think that Balraj’s fate would be different from that of the other microbiologists who’d been murdered. The only consolation—if one could call it that in a twisted sort of way—was that it was because of Dr. Balraj that they’d found Alessandra’s body. After his assistant had been killed, two agents were assigned to watch Balraj. They’d lost him somewhere in the vicinity of the Smithsonian, and it was during their search for the microbiologist that they’d found Alessandra—and why they’d been able to keep her murder from the police and the press.
Griffin looked down at his briefcase, thinking about the forensic sketch within. Alessandra had never told them about any meeting with Dr. Balraj—they couldn’t even imagine a reason that she would have contacted him—and so it took them quite some time before they realized she was missing and the body might have been hers. But now, thanks to Sydney Fitzpatrick, there were no doubts…
“Of course, sir,” McNiel said into the phone. “We’ll put every effort into the investigation.” He slammed the phone into the receiver. “Congressman Hoagland is a pompous idiot.” He leaned back in his chair, eyed Griffin. “You have the sketch?”
Griffin opened the briefcase and took out the drawing.
Tex saw it as he pulled it out. “Hell.”
Griffin laid the sketch on McNiel’s desk, and he saw the moment of recognition, the pulse pounding in his neck. “Sometimes I hate this job,” McNiel said. “Alessandra. And now Tasha.”
“What about this third key that Tasha mentioned?”
McNiel turned the drawing facedown. “With what we can gather from the chatter we’ve picked up, our best guess is that the third key is some code for a new super-plague that Adami’s scientists are working on. I’d have to guess that’s why he’s hell-bent on killing off anyone in the business.”
To which Tex said, “Knock off the competition and the possibility that anyone can counteract whatever the hell his scientists are coming up with.”
“Exactly,” McNiel said. “All the more reason to concentrate on finding his lab, which, thanks to Tasha, we know isn’t in Egypt.” He looked at Griffin. “After you notify Alessandra’s father, that is your main objective. Find his lab, destroy it.”
“Understood.”
McNiel straightened a stack of papers on his desk, clearly bothered by the drawing, and doing his best not to show it. “I’m afraid it’s public transportation en route. Tex will be using the jet as part of his cover. Marilee has your ticket on her desk,” he said, referring to his secretary. “And speaking of planes, I thought this artist of yours was to be on a plane back to San Francisco, not on a private tour of our building.”
“She had other plans.”
“That wasn’t part of our plan. I agreed to her involvement because she played by the book, which made her predictable and compliable. Someone who would do as she was told, and not ask questions.”
“What we didn’t count on was someone calling her and informing her that her friend was killed in a hit-and-run.” It was as close as he would ever come to telling his boss, I told you so, about keeping her in the dark over Tasha’s death. “Short of hogtieing her, I didn’t think it wise to force the issue. She’s already asking questions. And that was before her partner told her I was CIA.”
Tex laughed. “CIA?”
Their boss threw Tex a dark look, then tapped the drawing of Alessandra. “This forensic artist. Do you think she’s made any connections?”
“That’s exactly what I intend to find out.” Griffin turned to Tex. “You busy? I might need your skills in the next hour or so.”
5
Sydney unbuckled her seat belt when Zach Griffin double-parked his black Chevy Tahoe in front of Scotty’s apartment building with the confidence of someone who wasn’t worried about traffic tickets. “Thanks for the lift,” she said, sliding out, then hauling the straps of her bag and drawing case over her shoulder.
He lowered the passenger window after she shut the car door. “If you need anything, day or night, my cell is on the business card.”
She gave a small wave, then turned toward the building. The doorman opened the heavy glass door, and she walked in, taking the elevator to the third floor. Once inside, she threw her things on the couch, then called the D.C. field office to have the