Fear Familiar Bundle (23 page)

He locked his car and stepped along the curb. The realization that he'd never been to the Capitol before struck him hard. The building was enormous. Even if he got inside, where would he find Eleanor?

"Can I help you, sir?" a guard asked.

"Congressman Nottingham, please."

The guard motioned him through a metal detector and up to his desk.

"The Congressman's personal office is in the Cannon Building. I have no record that he's here tonight." He waited for further questions.

"Could you check again?" Peter asked.

The guard ran his finger down a roster of meetings. "No, sir, there's nothing here. As far as I can tell, Congressman Nottingham is gone."

"I have something personal to discuss with him." Peter placed both hands on the guard's desk and leaned forward. "Is he pretty decent to deal with?"

"Well." The guard looked uncomfortable. "He's pleasant enough. He's been here only a few years, not really the kind of time it takes for me to know a man." He shrugged his shoulders. "He's never rude, if that's what you're asking."

"Does he do…personal favors?"

The guard pushed his hat back from his forehead and rose. "I don't know what you're asking, but I don't think I like the drift of it. If you're wanting to know if he takes bribes, you'd better ask him. That's not the kind of thing I would know."

"Sorry," Peter said, "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that I'm desperate."

Appearing to catch the undercurrent of sincere worry in Peter's voice, the guard's tone softened. He leaned toward Peter and lowered his voice. "This place is rife with rumors, and I've heard Nottingham's name mentioned here and there. It doesn't mean anything."

"Can you help me?"

The guard held up both hands, looking around him. "Me, I don't know anything. It's just talk, and I shouldn't repeat it. Do me a favor and forget what I said."

"Of course," Peter said, backing off. The guard was tense; he'd overstepped his limits. "Thanks for the tip, and I'll forget where I heard it. But there is one other thing you might tell me."

"What's that?" the guard asked suspiciously.

"Does Charles Breck maintain any offices here?"

"In the Capitol?" The guard's wariness turned to amusement. "No, sir. That's a little too close for the CIA to suit the taste of some of the people who work here."

"Look!" Peter pointed down the hall. "There went Representative Nottingham now. Could you stop him for me?"

"I didn't see anyone." He gave Peter a funny look.

"I'm sure it was him. Please check it?"

"Wait here," the guard said. "I believe you're mistaken, but I'll be glad to make sure." He strode down the long hallway toward the rotunda.

Peter wasted not a second in opening the files. He memorized Nottingham's address.

The guard returned with a shake of his head. "I don't know who you saw, but no one in that wing even resembled Mr. Nottingham."

"I'm sorry. I thought I saw someone. Just wishful thinking, I suppose. Thanks for your help."

Peter ran down the steps to his car. The address was off Pennsylvania Avenue, one of the nice sections of town where political entertaining was an art. So, the word was out that Nottingham took bribes. It could be truth— or a vicious rumor started by a political opponent.

He found the right neighborhood and drove slowly by the stately homes with their manicured lawns. It was a section of town where appearance meant almost everything, and a poorly thought-out guest list could be the downfall of a career. It was an aspect of Washington he'd never explored, and he wasn't certain he wanted to now.

"Damn!" he cursed as he drew closer to Nottingham's address. The street was swarming with cars, couples and cops. "He's having a party!" Peter exclaimed under his breath as he struck the steering wheel with the base of his hand.

He looked at his clothes. He was still in slacks and a shirt from the office. He didn't even have a tie. And he was going to attempt to crash a Washington soiree. He sighed and got out of the car.

Falling into line behind two older couples, he made it to the butler and the front door.

"Please tell Mr. Nottingham I need to see him about Eleanor Duncan."

"Congressman Nottingham is unavailable for business tonight." The butler looked both ways, then bent his head. "He's having a party." The sarcasm was completely unveiled.

"I see," Peter said, holding back his impatience. "Well, in that case, you'd better tell him to come to the door and talk with me, or I'll make a very big effort to ruin his special little night. Got it?"

The butler drew back in disbelief. "Sir!"

"I'm a man who's worried sick about a friend. Either Nottingham comes out here and talks to me, or I go in there and talk to him. I'd prefer to do it the polite way, but…"

"A moment." The butler closed the door.

Behind him, he heard laughter and the murmur of male and female voices. As additional party guests came down the walk, Nottingham opened the front door and stepped outside. He greeted his guests graciously, ushering them into the house. He closed the door firmly and turned in the darkness to confront Peter.

"I don't know what the meaning of this could be, but I've had enough of you people. That Duncan woman was in my office today, implying terrible things about me and my associates. And now you're here, threatening to crash a dinner! I've called the police, and if you aren't gone in the next four minutes, I'm sure they'll be more than glad to take you away."

Peter grabbed the front of Nottingham's tux. "Where's Eleanor?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He tried to shake himself free, but Peter's grip was too tight. "She came into my office, demanded an interview, hurled accusations at me and then, after I'd gone to the trouble to set up a meeting for her, she didn't show."

"What?" Peter released his grip.

"She didn't bother to come over to the House and meet with Breck herself. We waited for half an hour."

Peter stepped back; it was the moment Nottingham needed to reassert his control.

"Now I'm going to tell you one last time. I've had it with you people. You've tried my patience too far. Get off my property or I'll have you removed. There are security men on the street and inside that front door, highly trained men." He pointed to his house.

"What time did you see Eleanor?"

"This afternoon. Check with my receptionist tomorrow. She keeps a record of all my visitors."

"Dr. Duncan has disappeared," Peter said. "You were the last person to see her, as far as I can tell. Maybe we should call the police."

Nottingham paused with his hand on the doorknob. "What are you trying to imply?" His tone was icy.

"You saw her last, and I'm going to find her. If there's something wrong with her, I'll be back for you, Nottingham. I'll make you think what Evans did to that ape of yours was kindercare."

"Who is this man you keep talking about? What does he have to do with me, my orangutan or that woman?"

"That's exactly the question I was going to ask you," Peter said. "So Eleanor was in your office and you set up a meeting with Breck. I know that much. Between your office and the House, she disappeared. Don't you find that a little strange?"

The sound of more guests arriving floated down the walk. Nottingham gestured Peter aside, behind a hedge.

"The woman said something about Cal Vrenner, my trainer, having another identity. That's impossible. Breck had him checked out thoroughly, and he's a top behavioral specialist. He can make an animal do anything you can imagine."

"I'm sure," Peter said. "Do you remember when a portion of International Chem-Co burned, back in the late seventies?"

Nottingham thought for a moment. "Tragic fire. Years of research were lost. I wasn't in Washington at the time, but I do remember. A young man was arrested."

"I was that man. It took me a long time to clear my name."

"I'm sorry, I didn't read…"

"You never read about that part. Nor about the man who really set the fire, another student called Arnold Evans. Well, that man is Cal Vrenner."

"Don't be absurd. The CIA would never let such a thing slip by them. They aren't idiots, you know. Charles Breck is a personal friend of mine. He's taken as much interest in this orangutan as I have."

"Then you're both inept."

"I don't have to stand here and take this."

"No, but you'd better listen to what I have to say. Eleanor told you the truth about Vrenner. Look into it for yourself. Now I'm going over to the Capitol to look for Eleanor. I want the key to your office, and I want whatever documentation I need to get it."

"Don't be a fool, man. You can't go running around a federal building in the middle of the night." The front door opened and the guests entered the house. Nottingham stepped back onto the path. "There's nothing in my office."

"Come with me," Peter said.

"I have guests." Nottingham waved helplessly toward his house. "I can't walk away from this party. Some of my major contributors are here."

"The key!" Peter held out his hand.

"Wait here. I'll get you what you want and come back."

Nottingham let himself through the front door, leaving Peter alone in the dark yard. The noises of the party shimmered around the house, accompanied by blurred laughter and music. It sounded like a large group, a social event. Peter counted the seconds, doubt growing that Nottingham would reappear. He should have collared him and taken him. Each second that dragged by, he felt his desperation grow. It was close to ten. Was Eleanor at home, waiting for him to call? The answer to that frightened him. Where was she?

The door opened and Nottingham came toward him, hand extended. "Leave it in the office, and here's an official pass. It says you're there to pick up something I left behind. I don't know what you think you'll find in my office, but it isn't there."

"I want Eleanor." Peter felt his anger flare dangerously. "If she's hurt, Nottingham, you're in big trouble." He turned on his heel and strode down the walk.

P
ETER WAS BACK
at the Capitol in less than fifteen minutes. Instead of parking near the front entrance, he swung right toward Cannon House. The lot was only a fourth full. All alone, parked at the edge of a lane, was a red Camry. Peter drove to it and got out. Eleanor's car! She'd never left the area!

Nottingham's office was easy to find. So was the receptionist's ledger. Eleanor's name was down for a two o'clock appointment. That was it. No mention of content or disposition of any matter.

Beneath her name was Breck's, with a notation of a meeting in the House anteroom. So that was the meeting that Eleanor had never shown up to attend. He locked the office and returned to the elevator. He started to press Lobby, then remembered the tunnels. If Eleanor was going to the House, she might very well have taken the tunnels!

He descended, his muscles clenching with dread.

The network of tunnels seemed abandoned. The memory of Eleanor's encounter in the parking garage came back to him— along with Wessy's words. She was terrified! Was it possible she'd actually seen her dead husband very much alive?

He took the most direct route to the Capitol, wondering if he were retracing her steps. What had gone wrong? Where was she now? The questions were like brands of fire. He was wasting his time in a dark tunnel, looking for what? A map that would take him to her? When he got out of the tunnels, he was going to call Detective Jones and let the authorities handle it.

The clatter of metal made him freeze. The small noise bounced along the floor, about fifteen yards in front of him. In the erratic lighting he saw a flash of silver, and then a small disc landed near his feet. Scanning the empty distance, he bent to retrieve it. Eleanor's earring. His heartbeat quickened to a dangerous throb.

"Where is she?" he called into the darkness. "If she's hurt, I'll kill you."

His words slurred and repeated, echoing eerily around him.

"If you've hurt her, I'll kill you," he said again.

"Always so rash, aren't you?" Out of the darkness, Arnold Evans stepped around the corner of the tunnel. He stopped twenty-five yards away and confronted Peter. "You're looking well, Peter. Recovered completely from our little mix-up."

"Where's Eleanor?"

"What makes you think I'd tell you?" Evans laughed. "You never were able to keep a secret."

Peter lunged forward, his outstretched hands circling Evans's throat and squeezing with a sudden pressure that made the smaller man's eyes bulge with unexpected fright.

"I'll choke you," Peter warned. "I should have done it years ago, when I first suspected what a maniac you were. But I've been waiting for you, biding my time."

"The woman," Evans croaked. "Kill me and she dies!"

"Where is she?" Peter relaxed his hold a little, so that the other man could draw a breath.

"Take your filthy hands off me," Evans ordered as soon as he could breathe. "No one touches me. No one!"

"Where is she?" Peter kept his hands on Evans's throat. It had been too many years, and his fingers itched to extract the revenge he wanted.

"She's safe, Peter. Just as safe as you please. She's rather attractive, isn't she? I've never had such a beautiful subject. I've always wondered if the truly beautiful feared losing their beauty more than the average person." He cocked his head. "That would make a fascinating study."

"And how many people would you have to maim and mutilate before you found the answer to that question?"

"It's hypothetical, you fool," Evans snapped. "I won't be able to do any of that type of research until I relocate. In some Third World country, where there isn't such a scramble about a few missing children."

"You are sick," Peter said, almost overcome with disgust. "Now tell me where Eleanor is, or I'll break every bone in your hands and feet. And remember, Evans, I know every single one."

"Love becomes you, Peter. You're quite lost in that glorious emotion of protecting your chosen mate. That's another area that would make decent experimentation. How much are you willing to suffer to protect her?" He laughed out loud, chin tilted toward the damp ceiling of the tunnel. "How much?"