It was almost 11 P.M., Friday, and Central Park South was busy. She carried a small canvas bag when she darted from the St. It was time to run again, and she would travel light. Horton was an honorable man, but the Justice Department was filled with lawyers who talked too much.ĭon't you think it's a bit premature? Coal asked. Horton's investigations leaked worse than the White House basement, and Coal was terrified of this clown impaneling a grand jury and calling witnesses. Coal stood nearby, and this really irritated the President. They shook hands and Horton sat across the desk. Someone opened the door and Horton entered alone. Have you seen the papers this morning? Coal asked. It is perfectly logical, if one is so inclined to kill Supreme Court Justices. The first two men who saw it are dead, and the person who wrote it has disappeared. And things weren't so swell above the ground. But this was the Broadway line, the most commonly used train in Manhattan, and it was rumored to be safe, at times. The subway was not appealing because she'd never used it and she'd heard the stories. She had studied a map and a book of the system, and she hoped it would be easy. She walked thirty feet, and disappeared into the subway. The cab took ten minutes to get to Seventy-second and Broadway, which was the wrong direction, but this entire journey should be hard to follow. There were cabs lined up outside the station, and ten minutes later she was at the airport.ĭo you honestly believe there's any truth to it? the President asked. Why should we get involved?įifteen minutes later, they stopped in Newark, and she got off. They've got three hundred agents on the case. The FBI is investigating, the President said. Richard Horton, the Attorney General, had talked to Coal, and now Coal was alarmed. But it was seven, and he was sitting at his desk wearing a tie, listening to Fletcher Coal suggest what they ought to do about this and about that. He wanted to sleep late, then play golf whenever he woke up. IT WAS SATURDAY MORNING, and the Queen was in Florida taking money from the rich, and it was clear and cool outside. But for a novice, it was nerve-racking anyway. No perverts, at least none she could spot. She looked at the floor, but from behind the dark shades, she studied the people. Stare at the floor and hold the bag, she kept telling herself. It wasn't crowded, and she took a seat near the center doors. She waited in the correct spot with a group of drunk but well-dressed teenagers, and the train arrived in a couple of minutes.
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