he had a hand in these deaths, too.” Wade was studying Archer’s face the way a hawk eyes a field mouse.
“Maybe,” Archer said, trying to sound thoughtful. “From what I read in the papers, Albright had a strong motive, and there’s some doubt about his suicide.”
A fierce gust of wind swallowed his words.
“What did you say?” Wade asked.
Nodding in the direction of the cathedral, Archer started toward the arched entry to the building’s west-facing wing where they’d have some protection from the wind. After a moment’s hesitation, Wade followed. The stairs had been cleared of snow, and they reached the vaulted entrance with no difficulty.
Masking his rage, Archer turned to face Wade. “I was talking about motives.” It was getting harder to keep his emotions hidden. In spite of the piercing cold, his face burned and his armpits were wet with perspiration. Wade’s face blurred before his eyes. He blinked, struggling to clear his vision.
Then he heard a cracking sound above the howling wind. Unbelieving, Archer watched Brian Wade’s big body topple forward, his crimson blood oozing onto the entryway’s white sandstone floor.
THE TELEPHONE was ringing when Susan Wade walked into her well-ordered office at Fairchild Air Force Base. She frowned, glancing at her watch. Six-thirty. And this was a holiday. The caller had to be Brian. He was going to be late again. She just knew it.
Oh, he’d have a good excuse. He always did. She was beginning to think Brian put her at the bottom of his priority list. He was never late for anything or anybody else.
The telephone rang again. She picked up the receiver. “Lieutenant Wade.”
“I’m glad I caught you, Susan.” It was her commanding officer, Major Savage. “I tried to reach you at home but got no answer.”
She tensed. The major never called anybody by their first name. Something must be wrong.
“Yes, sir,” she said automatically, conscious of her pounding heart.
“Would you stay in your office, please? I’ll be down to talk to you right away.” His usual authoritarian tone was gone. Instead, she heard a faint quiver in his voice, as though some emotion had touched him. The sound sent anxious tremors jolting through her. Could he have stumbled onto her covert mission at Fairchild? Heaven knows she’d spent enough time out on the flight line snooping around the C-130s. But nobody knew about her assignment except the military brass at the Pentagon Intelligence Agency. Not even the FBI or the treasury people had been informed about it.
“I’m not in uniform, sir.” She heard herself, weak and tremulous, and struggled to put more confidence in her voice. “Brian’s picking me up here as soon as he runs over the check-list with the ground crew for tomorrow morning’s flight. We’re going to dinner, then the reception at the club.”
“Civilian clothes will be fine, Lieutenant.” The major’s voice was still gentle, but a measure of his usual command authority was back. His changed tone made Susan feel better. Maybe it was nothing after all. Maybe he just wanted to discuss tomorrow morning’s briefing.
“This won’t take long,” he went on, “but it’s vital that I see you right away.”
A few minutes later he appeared in her open doorway, a somber expression on his hawklike face. Behind him was a heavyset colonel Susan recognized as the senior base chaplain. Standing to greet them, she felt the blood drain from her face. Why was the chaplain here? Had somebody died?
Major Savage, whose beak of a nose and sharp-sighted eyes matched his wiry appearance, took the empty seat beside her desk. The chaplain pulled one of her spare chairs near her desk and settled himself on it.
“Colonel Ratigan, this is Lieutenant Susan Wade,” Major Savage said.
The colonel reached out and clasped her hand between both of his. “I’m one of the chaplains here at Fairchild.”
“I know,” she blurted, scarcely aware of her own voice. “What’s happened?”
“Please sit down,” the colonel said.
Numbly, Susan sat.
The chaplain eyed her, his brow furrowed. “There’s been an…accident, Susan.”
“My husband?” She could hardly force the words out.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” Major Savage began, “but Brian’s been shot.”
She jumped to her feet. “Is he in the base hospital?”
“No, he’s not.” The chaplain rose and put his hand on her arm. “Captain Wade—well—he’s no longer with us.”
“You mean he’s dead? That’s impossible.” For a moment Susan wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Shaking her head, she sank back into her chair. “You’ve made a mistake. Brian had an inspection scheduled for his ground crew this afternoon.” She heard her voice rising and knew she was on the verge of losing control. But she couldn’t help herself.
The major leaned toward her, lines of worry between his sharp-sighted blue eyes. “He must have left the base after his inspection, Susan.”
You’re wrong, she wanted to scream. He had a date with me. Why would he leave the base? Instead, she looked down at her hands twisted nervously in her lap. “It wasn’t him,” she said. “It couldn’t be. Someone’s made a terrible mistake.”
The chaplain shook his head. “There was no mistake, Susan. His ID card and driver’s license were in his wallet. The man they found was Brian.”
Waves of disbelief swept over her, and she struggled to keep from screaming. “I want to see the body.”
“Of course,” the chaplain said, glancing at Major Savage. He nodded slightly.
The room swam around her as tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice. Until now Susan had been able to fight this awful lie. But she couldn’t any longer. Unable to see clearly, she fumbled in her purse for a tissue. In front of her, a clean linen handkerchief appeared in the chaplain’s hand.
“Take it,” he urged gently.
He and Major Savage got up, and the two men turned away while she wiped her cheeks dry and blew her nose. Thank God they knew enough to give her some privacy. She heard the low murmur of their voices as from a great distance, though they were only a few feet away.
Finally she gained a measure of control over herself. But even then she couldn’t seem to function properly. When she tried to stand, her knees buckled. Leaning on her desk, she sank back to her seat.
An instant later, the chaplain pulled his chair closer and sat down. “Are you certain you’re up to seeing Brian right now, Susan?”
She nodded, swallowing her sobs.
“Come with us,” Major Savage said.
THE MORGUE WAS COLD and silent. An attendant ushered them into the sterile white room where the identification would be made.
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