"Martha." He pulled her closer. "Martha, relax." He could feel the tension throughout her body.

"Aaron, that wasn't a carjacking." She began to tremble.

"I know it. But we don't know all the details yet. In fact, we don't know anything. It could have been an angry client out for revenge, or the Mafia might have decided that he knew too much."

"Or the people who hired him to defend Charles might have decided that. Oh my God, I told him! I told Charles!" Angrily, she punched the couch. "I am such an idiot."

"Told him what?" They were sitting up now and Aaron was reaching for his clothes.

"That we'd found out who told the terrorists that I was going to Russia. At first he thought I was accusing him. Then he wanted to know who we suspected. At first I wouldn't tell him, but he said he needed to know who it was, that it might help keep me safe. So I told him we thought it was Dunlap."

Aaron was dressing as he listened. For a few seconds he remained silent, buttoning his shirt carefully; then he glanced over to Martha, saw her expression and put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't blame yourself. There's more to this than you know. Dunlap was under a lot of pressure to tell what he knew, and he was facing prison time. He might have decided to blackmail Charles' associates to get him out of the country, on his own initiative. Or Charles might have tried in good faith to warn Dunlap to stay away from you, panicked him, and sent him running to his associates with the same result."

"Or he might have sold Dunlap out to his pals," Martha finished bitterly. "I've ruined your investigation, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't. We've got other leads we're following up. One of them is this Christian Whitcomb I asked you about. If you remember anything about him, let me know right away." He kissed her forehead, got up and reached for his cell phone. "I'm going to try to reach Jon. He needs to know about this."

Martha nodded, gathered up her clothing and headed for the bedroom.

Across town Josh Tenney had just finished a grueling questioning session with the DC police. Feeling numb and in need of some distracting activity, he drove to his office and began to review Gene's scheduled court dates for the next month. What the hell am I going to do, he wondered, and where do I start? Just as he was about to give up in despair, his cell phone rang.

"It's Susan. Where are you?"

"I'm at the office trying to put the pieces together. Susan, I can't believe this."

"I'm coming over."

"It's nine-thirty. Don't you have an early court session tomorrow?"

"Don't worry, I'll make it. I'm coming over. Tell the guard at the desk you're expecting me." She hung up. Twenty minutes later she swept through the office door and hugged him tightly: "It's gonna be okay, Josh."

"Everything's a mess. I can't figure out where to get started."

"Listen, Josh," Susan said quietly. "You're still in shock. I know this is overwhelming. That's why I'm here. Let me tell you what to do first. Get on the phone, now, and call your associates and tell them you've scheduled an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning. I'll help you with the agenda. You've got to get in touch with Gene's clients and the courts so you can file for postponement of his cases. You'll have to farm some of this stuff out, you can't do it all on your own." She sat him down at the desk. "I'll make us some coffee."

"But the clients expect a named partner to work on their cases," he protested weakly.

Susan looked up from the coffee maker. "You can only do what you can do. Working yourself to death isn't going to help. Besides, you can't tell me Gene did all his cases by himself. He didn't work nearly as hard as you do, and we both know it." She eyed him sternly. "This is more than a two-partner firm, Josh. You have resources. Your associates are there to be used. Use them! We both know some of them are dying to be promoted to partner. Here's a great chance for them to prove themselves. Show them you trust them."

Josh started to perk up. "You're right. If the firm is going to continue I'm going to need other partners."

"And it will continue, Josh. Gene founded it, you can take it to greater things."

"He was a great attorney." Josh shook his head. "I really respected him once. I just don't know where he went wrong."

"He started caring more about fame and money than the law. That's where he went wrong." Susan knelt next to his chair and put her arms around him. "That will never happen to you."

Josh looked at her for a moment, then took her face in his hands and kissed her. When Susan finally got a chance to speak she whispered, "I wondered if you were ever going to get around to kissing me."

"I've been wanting to do that for ages, but the timing never seemed right." He smiled at her.

She leaned her forehead against his for a moment. "Well, Perry Mason, give me one more of those and then start calling your staff. I'll rough out this agenda for you."

Since it was Sunday evening Aaron had no difficulty reaching Cardona. He had seen the news of Dunlap's death and had, in fact, been just about to call Aaron to inform him. After a short discussion, they decided to meet at the Secret Service building for a conference and Aaron left a message for the Attorney General requesting a meeting as soon as possible. Ready to leave, he hesitated for a moment: "I'm sorry, Martha." He gave her a quick kiss.

"It's all right." She held him close for a moment, drawing as much comfort as she could from his presence. "Call me when you hear anything. I love you."

"I love you too. Very much." He stroked her cheek for a moment, looking into her eyes, then headed out the door. Once in the hallway and out of Martha's hearing, Aaron found the Service agent on duty and told him: "Consider this situation high alert until you hear otherwise. Agent Cardona and I will be at the office. If you see any suspicious activity whatsoever, call us immediately. Got that?"

"Yes, sir."

Once arrived at Aaron's office, Jon slumped into the guest chair and stared at him wordlessly for about thirty seconds. Finally he said, "I've been kicking theories around the whole way over here. What could have happened."

"Same here."

"Mind if I use you as a sounding board? And then we can analyze."

"Go ahead." Aaron leaned back in his chair, taking occasional notes as Cardona paced the room throwing out ideas. Ten minutes later, he waved the other agent to a halt. "Okay, Jon, let's take a look at these and then we can figure out what to do next." He waited while Jon sat down, now looking more composed than when he had arrived. "First. Dunlap's murder was unrelated to the investigation; could have been random, maybe related to one of his clients or former clients."

"In that case," Jon answered, "it's not our problem. I know some guys on the force I could talk to, but now is not the time to do it. I'd give it a couple of days and then call them up after we see where things are headed."

"I agree. The AG might be able to help out with that as well, but I'd save him for last if you can't get the police to share info with us."

"Okay. Second."

"Second, Dunlap's death is related to the conspiracy. In that case I see three potential leads, the same ones you mentioned. The maintenance worker in Martha's building—"

"Who probably won't be able to tell us much," Cardona interjected.

"I agree, but we have to question him." Aaron continued: "Next, the AG. He's been running the investigation, but he reports to the President. The problem there is, will he agree to share what they know with a couple of Secret Service agents?" He raised an eyebrow at Jon, who rolled his eyes.

"With me? No way! With you, Aaron, they might. They trust you and they know you were involved with everything that happened the day Logan's plan fell apart. You'd have to meet with the AG on your own, possibly even with the President. The AG would have more data, but the President might be more willing to talk to you. Especially if you ask about Number Three."

"Christian Whitcomb." They stared at one another for a moment. "I'd really like to know if he has an alibi for tonight."

"That sends us back to the cops again."

"Mm hmm." Aaron thought for a moment. "Jon, it looks to me as if we have to pursue all these options together. It isn't a case of either/or. And it really isn't our job to solve a DC shooting. We'll have to share what we know and rely on the AG to help us sort it out." Just as he reached this conclusion the phone rang. "Agent Pierce here… yes, sir. Thank you for calling me back. I'm here with Agent Cardona and we have some information related to the death of Counselor Dunlap we thought we ought to share with you."

Overwhelmed with preparations for her trip as well as the news about Dunlap, Martha considered canceling her lunch with Marie and Angie but changed her mind almost immediately. I can't do that to them, she thought, and I need a break anyway. She found herself considering menu options while picking out her clothes for the tour and finally decided on a pasta dish and salad ("Marie's vegetarian," Angie had explained). Knowing Angie's fondness for barbecue and hamburgers and her laid-back personality, and recalling Aaron's "hyper" description of Marie, Martha could not help wondering how two such opposites had become life partners. Then she remembered that in many respects she and Aaron were also total opposites, laughed at herself for a moment and stopped thinking about it.

The pasta was a success and Martha enjoyed the luncheon more than she thought she would, as she found Marie's company relaxing. Conversation was not a problem; Marie never ran out of things to say. Under her bubbly personality she was also well informed, and the conversation ranged from the latest films to the World Bank to, finally, the death of Gene Dunlap. Marie had once met him at the Smithsonian at an exhibit about the history of American criminal law. "He spoke at the opening," she recalled. "He did a great job. I was expecting another dull speech, because a lot of the people we ask to present at openings just aren't good public speakers, but he wasn't dull at all. He had a lot of good stories, and he made legal history sound really interesting." She did not appear to suspect that Dunlap's death had been anything other than a random carjacking, and Martha saw no reason to share her theory that he had been deliberately murdered. Hoping to gather any further information that might point to Dunlap's killer, she encouraged Marie to continue talking about their encounter. Unexpectedly, Marie's next comment riveted her attention: "Oh, and I forgot! You must have known one of the guests there. Walt Cummings. Wasn't he in charge of things at the White House?"

Martha was inwardly amazed by this coincidence but managed to conceal her interest behind a mournful look. "I knew him very well, and his wife. I trusted him," she added truthfully. Though she'd found him overly controlling at times, Walt had been the only person she could turn to when Charles became exasperated with her. It was he who had persuaded her to enter the "rest home" in Vermont, and in fact he'd visited her there more often than Charles had. Partly at Martha's urging, the Attorney General had agreed to conceal Cummings' involvement in the conspiracy for the sake of his family. "Poor Walt. He was killed the day of the attacks, you know. How horrible to think that Walt and Gene Dunlap are both dead now," she added with a sigh, hoping Marie would keep talking.

Marie needed no urging to tell her more. "Oh, I know!" she breathed, eyes wide. "And what's even weirder, they spent a lot of time talking to each other at the reception. My director finally made me go over and separate them so Mr. Dunlap could talk to some of the other guests, but it took a while." She noted that Cummings had seemed reluctant to break off their conversation.

Suddenly an image popped into Martha's mind, a memory of an evening at the White House. It had been yet another meaningless political function held as a "thank you" for influential party members and fundraisers. She had been bored, slightly drunk and without any conversational partners for the moment. She had been trying to avoid Walt Cummings, afraid he'd send her upstairs; being alone with her depression would have been worse than the party. Looking around the room she'd been relieved to see that he was paying no attention to her, as he was deep in conversation with someone she'd been introduced to earlier in the evening. She frowned, trying to remember; yes, Cummings had introduced them. The guest he was speaking to was a man with an odd first name that didn't match his striking, slightly dangerous appearance.

Cummings had been speaking to Christian Whitcomb.

Angie shifted uncomfortably, and Martha realized she'd been staring into space for a moment. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I was just thinking I'd have to call Walt's wife. I haven't spoken to her lately, and I really need to do that." She quickly brought their desserts to the table and changed the subject to the art collections she and Angie had toured in the Kremlin.

Martha was struck by Charles' appearance as they faced each other through the glass of the prison visiting area. He was looking drawn and tired, as though he hadn't been sleeping well. She had come prepared to interrogate Charles relentlessly, convinced that he had passed the information she'd given him about Dunlap to his co-conspirators; seeing him now, she made a decision to switch tactics.

"I take it you heard the news, Charles?"

"Yes," he answered, almost inaudibly.

"Is there anything you can tell me?"

"Better not." He was glancing around the room warily, clearly worried that someone might overhear their conversation. "I know what you're probably thinking, but I haven't said anything to anyone. No one's been in touch."

Martha sighed, frustrated. She was tempted to ask Charles about Christian Whitcomb, but decided not to risk it; she would take no further chances that might interfere with the AG's investigation. Changing the subject, she asked, "How were your holidays?" She gestured around the room. "Did they do anything?"

He shrugged. "What you'd expect. Turkey, cranberry sauce. Visiting hours were extended. Not that it made any difference to me, I didn't have any visitors," he added bitterly.

Martha was shocked. "Didn't your brother… I thought at least he'd come," she finished lamely, uncertain of what to say.

"Apparently skiing in Aspen was more important to him." He shrugged. "And you, of course, were out of town. California?"

"No, I… I was in Texas," she stammered, unprepared for his question.

He stared at her for a second, then shook his head in disgust. "Oh, for God's sake, Martha. Texas? I can imagine what that must have been like. Did you buy out Neiman-Marcus again?"

"I didn't go anywhere near Neiman-Marcus, actually. But I'll be going there in a few weeks," she added, trying to change the subject. "I did get to do some riding while we were there."

He sighed. "Riding. The ranch." He shook his head. "They're selling off everything, you know. The horses, the property…"

"I know. I miss Suki." She was beginning to wish she had not come. Charles seemed either unwilling or unable to tell her anything, and when she remembered the confidences Aaron had recently shared and the pain he was still suffering, it was difficult to feel any empathy for the man sitting across from her.

"They've got me cleaning toilets." His voice broke into her thoughts. "Sixty cents an hour. It keeps me busy, and the way things are going that may be the only savings I'll have when I get out of here."

"You can always write a book," she answered dryly. "How I Tried to Subvert the United States Government."

"Very funny."

"Maybe you could get hired as a consultant. You'll still have contacts in California."

"They wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole. The publicity would ruin them." He shook his head. "Well, I won't worry about it just yet. If I'm still alive in three years I'll count myself lucky."

As a final effort, Martha decided to mention the information Marie had given her at lunch. "Someone was talking to me about Gene Dunlap the other day," she began. "Back before the attacks he was speaking at a function at the Smithsonian, and Walt Cummings was there. Apparently they were having some sort of heavy discussion."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Charles shrugged. "Walt might have had information for him, or he may have been trying to convince Dunlap to do something for us."

"You don't know what?"

"No. All I know is that Gene Dunlap was under orders he didn't dare disobey. When he finally did—" he paused, "you saw what happened." He frowned. "Wait a minute. Walt usually used a go-between, someone who would pass the word along if he needed something done. Why would he have been there himself?"

"He was some sort of guest of honor at the opening, I think."

"That must have been it."

"Charles, you said Walt used someone to help him. Was it always the same person?"

"As far as I know." He gave her a cautious glance. "I've used him myself from time to time. He's very reliable, as long as he gets paid."

"Will you tell me who it is?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Gene Dunlap is dead, but he's not the one who left the notes in my apartment. It must have been somebody else. You said you wanted to keep me safe, Charles. Anything you can tell me might help." She looked at him for a moment. "I know they're going to come back. I just do. And next time it might not be a note, they could be waiting for me."

He thought for a moment and nodded. "If it's him, you could be in trouble, Marty. I said he's reliable, and he is, but he's dangerous. Almost as dangerous as Henderson was, and at least Henderson had a cause he believed in. This guy would do anything for money, pure and simple."

"What's his name, Charles?"

"Christian Whitcomb. You might know him; he's been to some of our fundraisers."

Later that evening, Jon and Aaron stared at each other as Martha finished speaking. "I met Whitcomb once," she added. "I finally remembered. Walt Cummings introduced me to him at a White House reception."

Cardona perked up. "Thank you for telling us. This means we can skip checking the White House security records, Aaron; we know he was there," he added.

Martha's eyes widened: "You mean you know about this man?"

"We know a bit." Cardona looked serious again. "Aaron and I have been talking to the Attorney General and doing a bit of investigation on our own. Right now we have a theory that Christian Whitcomb could have been responsible for the death of Gene Dunlap, but we don't have any proof. I put a call in to some friends of mine on the DC police force to see if we can get more information, but Aaron's going to carry the ball on this while you and I are out of town. The DC force has a liaison officer who works with us and the FBI on federal cases." He paused for a moment. "So Mr. Logan told you he knows Whitcomb?"

"Yes, but I doubt he'd admit it for the record. At first he wouldn't tell me anything. The only reason he gave me the information was to warn me to stay clear of Whitcomb. He said he was dangerous."

"From what we can tell, he was right." Jon looked over to Aaron for a moment. "Aaron, we need to stay in touch. You have the itinerary for the tour?"

Aaron nodded. "I've got it. I'll keep in touch with both of you every day and if I hear anything, I'll let you know."

After Jon left Martha slumped back on the couch. Aaron sat next to her. "All ready?"

"I'm packed, everything is set. Angie's going to meet me here tomorrow morning and Jon will pick us up."

"Nervous?"

"A bit, but I'm excited too. I think it's going to go well, Aaron. I really do." She smiled at him, leaning her head against his chest. "Ann says Jennifer can't wait to meet us in Dallas. She's out of her mind with excitement."

Aaron chuckled. "I'll bet she is. Will you miss me?"

"I'll miss you like crazy." Martha hugged him tightly. "That's the hardest thing about going on this trip. I promise I'll talk to you every day." She hesitated for a moment. "Aaron, I know now is not the time to go into this, but when I get back… would you consider moving in here with me? If you did, we wouldn't have to juggle our schedules every week to spend time together the way we're doing now. I know it would be easier for you."

"I've been giving it some thought," he answered honestly. "Let's talk when you get back, and I'll think about it some more while you're gone. You sure there'd be room for two of us in here?" he added jokingly.

"For you, I'll make room." Martha's face had lit up at his answer; she stood up, took his hand and pulled him up to join her. "Let's go to bed. We both have to be up early tomorrow."

He raised his eyebrows. "How early exactly?" As she started to giggle, he grinned and pulled her toward the bedroom.