Dulac had left the preliminary briefing meeting at Langley with CIA agent Jim Crothers on the Ellipse case an hour before, and the taxi had stopped abreast of the Arrivals section’s main entrance. He paid the cabbie, entered and made his way through the heavy crowd to the Arrivals notice board. He glanced upward. Air France Flight 256 from Paris was on schedule. He looked at his watch. 10.45 am. If he hurried, he still had time to intercept Karen before she exited the airport.
He checked again for the small card tucked between the ribbon and the box of chocolates, making sure it hadn’t slipped out, and hurried towards the Arrivals section.
Moments later, he saw Karen, wearing a dark beige outfit, her shoulder-length, thick auburn hair partially wrapped in a blue scarf. Dulac noticed a very slight limp in her otherwise determined gait. He waved.
She recognized him and waved back. All smiles, she walked over, hugged him and gave him a long, sensuous kiss.
“I missed you,” she said.
“And I you,” said Dulac, his right hand still behind his back. “How was your flight?”
“Fine. What’s the surprise?” She tried to peek.
Dulac brought his hand in front and offered her the box of chocolates.
“Godivas, my favorite! You remembered.” She squeezed him.
“For medicinal purposes only.” Dulac grabbed her overnight bag. “Come, let’s get a cab to the hotel.”
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in the lounge of the Jefferson Hotel, sipping on their glasses of Pouilly-Fuissé white wine.
“The last I heard, you were about to take a flight to Lyon.” Karen deposited the high-stemmed glass on the table. “Where is it all at?”
“Officially, the investigation is closed. To make a long story short, Singh is charged with conspiracy to hijack, the other conspirators Assirgan and Mehta are dead and Hays—”
“The Home Secretary?” Karen looked bewildered.
Dulac leaned over, kissed her left ear and whispered, “None other. Hays is in deep-doodoo with the Financial Services Authority on insider trading, possibly money laundering. I wouldn’t be surprised if he resigned. I’ve heard that even if the file is officially closed, Bolding’s murder is still being investigated and—”
“Murder? I thought the press said it was suicide?”
“I know different.”
“Why hasn’t that been released?”
“Because that would lead to motive, which in turn might lead to questioning some pretty high profile people, including Hays.”
“Wow!” Karen leaned back in her chair, hands on her lap. “But why can’t you—?”
“Interpol doesn’t have jurisdiction any more. Mills’ and Bolding’s murders were attributed to a Zabin Mehta, a Baluchistan Mole working for MI-6. Trouble is he’s dead also so we can’t know for sure if he had accomplices.” Dulac looked at his watch and got up. “We’d better hurry. You might want to freshen up before we head to The White House. Secretary of State Nancy Lombardi has invited us for lunch. She mentioned our friend Hank Porter will be there also.”
“Thierry, you’re changing the subject again. I get the distinct impression we’re talking cover-up here.”
Dulac gave her a comforting kiss and whispered. “Don’t worry, darling. Not for long.”