Chapter Six
Agent Sadusky paced back and forth across his office, struggling to stay awake. The FBI building had been simply abuzz for the past twelve hours, and bits of information were run back and forth through Sadusky so frequently he hadn't been allowed a moment's peace up until that point, let alone a moment to sleep. Now, as he paced, waiting for Agent Hendricks to report back to him, he couldn't afford to sleep. If Hendricks was running late, it could mean two things: a.) he was trying to find something definitive, or b.) something had gone too wrong for words. His hopes were desperately directed toward the former while the latter remained a possibility which had the potential to haunt him.
His cell phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID, seeing something he never expected. Even so, he answered with an even tone. "Hello, Mr. O'Malley."
"Pete, I just heard Nathaniel escaped from prison," the man on the other end replied. He had a faint but discernable Scottish accent.
"That's true, Greg, but why are you calling me about it?"
"Because if my suspicions about the Scottish Rite serve me, he's on his way over here."
"Then he's chasing a myth. I may be a Mason, but I'm also a trained skeptic by profession. If what you say is true and what you claim is hidden by the Grand Lodge actually is hidden by the Grand Lodge, then we can't let Nathaniel get that far. It's only been twelve hours since he's escaped, and his only known targets are in Washington, D.C. That's all we know at this time."
"There's more to it." Sadusky instantly recognized Ben Gates' immortal words.
"We're already on tracking Nathaniel down, so don't worry about that. Their secret's safe, whatever it is. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Greg. I assure you."
"I should've known to trust the FBI, but you know my concern."
"Yes, I do, but I've every reason to assure you everything will work out quite favorably."
"I should hope so. We can't run the risk."
"Everything's fine, Greg. Trust me."
"I do, and I know where to go if something does indeed go horribly wrong."
"Good."
Sadusky hung up, pocketed his phone, and returned to his pacing.
NTNT
After a round of small talk with Ian and his men, Riley and Tanya returned to his convertible.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He smiled down at her and stroked her hair. "Hey, are you a natural blonde?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Wow. I can't believe I just noticed, and we've been seeing each other for, what, six weeks?" She laughed, causing him to laugh in turn, though for no apparent reason. "You've got a cute laugh," he said when he recovered himself.
"So do you," she replied.
He kissed the top of her head and ran his thumb back and forth on her upper arm. After a moment, she pulled away and sat up, allowing Riley to start his convertible and pull out of Ian's walkway. "So, uh, how do you feel about fried chicken?"
"That breaded, fat-loaded meat that you eat with your hands?"
"Yeah."
"Exactly what I said."
"Okay, then how about we go for soup?"
"That sounds nice, actually."
"Okay, soup it is." He pulled onto the street and drove a few blocks before turning another corner. "When's a good time for me to meet the President?"
"It's your choice, Riley. You let me know when and where and I pass that on to Ian, who will arrange everything else."
"Uh...okay, then."
"Just relax. We'll take care of everything."
"Okay."
"Relax. It's just Ian."
"I know that."
Tanya took a moment to consider her options before reaching over to turn on the radio. Riley started humming along to the song and tapping his thumb on the steering wheel in time with the music despite the fact that the song was almost over, and he did the same thing with the next one, and the next one. "You're quite the music freak, aren't you?" Tanya asked.
"Well, I guess you could say that. I don't like doing stuff on the computer when it's quiet."
"Ah, I see."
After a moment, Riley asked, "Do you think anything in my book can help?"
"Let's stop by a book store and find out, unless it's in a library somewhere."
"Well, the Library of Congress has a copy, just like it has a copy of every other book that's been published."
She checked her watch and said, "Yes, but it's closed at this hour."
"Okay, I know where to find the nearest library that has a copy we can look at."
"Great."
Riley turned a corner, drove a few blocks, and parked in front of a library with its lights still on, a good sign in Tanya's opinion. She was the first to climb out, followed closely by Riley, and they both walked up the steps and slipped into the building.
For the most part, the library was deserted, save the librarian, a thirty-something with curly brown hair in a sweatervest and neatly pressed white shirt. Her nose was buried in a book, and even if it wasn't, Riley seemed to know where he was going, and Tanya followed closely behind. He led her down an aisle and pulled a book off of one of the shelves almost without looking at it. When she got the chance, she glanced at the cover and was amazed by his accuracy.
Riley handed his book to Tanya, and she immediately turned to the index, scanning through it until she found something on psychics, which she flipped to. She skimmed the page, with Riley watching patiently. Seeing nothing interesting, she flipped back to the index to search for another term of relevance. This went on for several minutes before Riley said, "Maybe it's not in there."
"Well, I tried," she said, putting the book back on the shelf where it came from and checking her watch. "We should leave." With a glance over her shoulder, she walked toward the door. Riley followed a few steps behind, stuttering out some reply that, in retrospect, really made no sense whatsoever, but he followed anyway.