The Aeschylus (2 page)

Then, Max saw what he was looking for, a service tunnel door with a pale bulb overhead. The door had been left unlocked and cracked. Geysers of relief began to wash over him in great, white waves. No matter what manner of man this Matthew was, he was not a liar. He hoisted his wife through the door and shut it behind them. They were facing a staircase of sorts, this one leading up at a steep, narrow angle. Beyond the shadows at the top, he could see the gray promise of sky.

My name is Isaac,
he thought.
The man at the top will be Abraham, and I will answer, 'My name is Isaac.'

“What?” Ada asked.

Max realized he had been mumbling. “Nothing! Hurry, love!”

As soon as he turned his head, he heard a wet, clunking sound.

Clunk, clunk, clunk.

Something rolled down the steps and hit his foot. He jumped, his heart hammering. The thing beneath him was a man, or more properly, had been a man. Through the peels of hair, Max could see a piece of skull missing from the back of its head. If he had looked down a moment sooner, before the body rolled, he would have seen the corresponding entrance wound in the man's left eye, but mercifully, he did not.

His feet felt rooted to the spot. His lips could not move to shout. Beside him, Ada froze, her mouth hanging open as if she were an image in a photograph.

The spell did not break when the door opened behind them. It did not even break when the bald, shadowed figure at the top of the stairs began descending towards them.

All at once, Max heard himself speak. “My name is Isaac.”

The figure smashed him on the head with the butt of a light stick, and he toppled downwards, rolling past the Germans and coming to rest directly next to the body at the foot of the stairs.

“That was
eins
,” the figure said, pointing to the corpse, “and this is
zwei
,” he said, pointing to Ada. “Are we clear?”

Max nodded, his vision blurring.

“And now you will tell me everything there is to know about Dominik Kaminski and where he is headed.”

“Yes,” the old man said. “I will.”

The answers came tumbling and hurtling from his mouth like vomit. They were the last words he would utter upon this earth.

Fairfax, Virginia:

Present Day

The old man was finally gone.

Kate looked down at her father's headstone, and all she could think about was how disappointed he would have been to know it had cost the state thirteen thousand dollars. It brought a smile to her lips, bitter but welcome. “Never waste a dime on anything that doesn't come back to you, pumpkin,” he had told her on more than one occasion. “Don't end up like your mother, all goosy with the credit cards.” And he had smiled and patted her head, even when she grew up and gained an inch on him, even when her mother was long gone. That was her dad, full of an endearing sort of rage when he thought he knew best. Maybe all dads were like that.

Remembering that was funny now, in a way. But it was better than remembering what he looked like in the last twelve hours, stuck in a hospital bed with tubes running in and out of his body, two dozen idiots crowded around trying to get a word in edgewise.

The press had been kind in the wake of his passing, however, and that was unexpected. The Times was calling him “The Most Powerful Vice President since Dick Cheney,” whatever that meant, but the tone was complimentary. All of his greatest accomplishments had been described in Sunday's edition, complete with dates and photos. Of course, she and her brother were missing from that list. She guessed that when you clawed your way to the top of the political food chain, your family became the equivalent of set dressing: necessary for esthetic appeal, but hardly worth talking about in matters of business.

“You never would have told us that, even if you knew it was true. Right, Dad?”

She blushed when she realized she had spoken aloud. And maybe that wasn't fair. He had always made time for her and Bobby, even after the last election. She supposed some girls would have been thrilled to be a part of it, just to see inside the most famous political building in the world, but Kate had always taken it in stride. It was her brother who had jumped into the life, moving from one high-profile job to the next, ending up as one of the top security analysts in D.C.

Bobby had only been to the hospital once before the old man died. That was typical, though he had loved their father as much as she. He was just unavailable. She was sure he was out about town at this very moment, dealing with things in his own way. With his friends, drinking, probably face down in his favorite Chinatown whorehouse. She wondered if she just didn't understand men.

Her cell phone rang, and she jumped. She thought about ignoring it, but she couldn't hide forever.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Katelyn. Can you talk?”

Out of all the people in the world, her godfather was the only person to call her by her full name. She hated it. “What's up, Godfried?”

“Listen, I just got back into town. There's something we need to talk about. Can you come by?”

She sighed. “Can I ask what it's about?”

“I'd rather not say.”

“You'd rather not say, and I'd rather not listen.”

He paused on the other end, and she could imagine his brow furrowing. “All right, it's about your... let's call it your inheritance. I know this is doesn't seem like the time, but trust me, we should speak today.”

“The reading was two days ago, Godfried. If you forgot something—”

“This is important,” he said, cutting her off. “It wasn't something we could talk about before. This is an addendum for your eyes only.”

“An addendum?”

“Your father added it only a week ago. His instructions were very clear. He said it was only to be shown to you, and only after his burial was complete. Since that was this morning, I figured now would be the best time.” Another pause. “He was very clear.”

She adjusted the left strap on her dress and shivered. Too skimpy for the weather, it was the only black dress she owned. “Only me?”

“It's not for Robert, not for former staff, hell not even for me. But it's important. Can you come?”

“Look, Godfried.” What kind of excuse could she give? She was all out. “Now's not the best time. Can we—”

“I've already sent Lance out with the chopper. He should be at your apartment in a few minutes.”

That was typical. That was, in fact, exactly why he and her dad had gotten along so well: no goddamned patience. “I'm not at the apartment. I'm still at the cemetery.”

“The cemetery? What are you doing there?”

“I don't know, do I have to come now?”

“I'll let Lance know. See you in twenty.”

He hung up.

She thought about skipping town and taking a cab back to the city, but if Lance showed up and she wasn't there, Godfried would have the National Guard in play by nightfall. If she humored him one last time, she might actually get home before dark, and that was a nice thought. The cemetery here was amazingly green, the well-kept lawn broken every twenty feet or so by trees and flowers. The church, an old brick Protestant job on the eastern end, fit perfectly into the rural landscape. You couldn't even hear the highway from the center of the place. Kate missed this kind of scenery; she hadn't lived in Virginia since she was a little girl, not since her mother had been alive.

Five minutes later, the image broke as a helicopter appeared overhead, buzzing and whirring its way onto the field. She walked towards it, pushing into the wind as the rounded metal monstrosity dipped into view. This would mark the eleventh time she'd flown in one. Two of the previous eleven times, she'd thrown up, and she prayed this wouldn't be the third. On a day like today, she just couldn't take any more.

When they touched down on the helipad in Alexandria a few minutes later, she couldn't wait to get out. Lance the pilot was one of Godfried's old Naval Academy crewman, aged enough to be her grandfather, but he still kept stealing glances at her legs every chance he got. Most days, Kate didn't know if she was good looking any more, but she thought she kept herself up all right. “You look good enough to eat, honey,” her friend Miranda liked to tell her. “Fuck thirty-seven. You look twenty-seven, and you know it.” Most days, that was well and good, but when you were trapped a thousand feet in the air with an old goat like Lance, that attitude was a curse. At times like those, she'd be perfectly happy being a cow.

As she stepped out onto the lawn, she found herself wishing for the hundredth time that she was in jeans. When she was a kid, the only time she wore anything different was on the grass in a field hockey game. Girls who played hockey were not the pink dress wearing sort.
Only the black dress wearing sort
, she thought grimly.

The estate—her godfather's place could never be called anything so plebeian as a mansion—had its own helipad, as well as its own Olympic swimming pool, garden, and statuary. It was within walking distance of Belle Haven Country Club,
“One of the finest health spas south of D.C., my dear,” if you were impressed by that sort of thing. The house itself was a squat, two-story 19th Century Georgian style manor, but not without charm. She'd spent enough time running around the grounds as a child to know that.

Collin MacNab, the estate's head of security, appeared at the end of the green and waved. He was an old man himself now, but unlike her grody pilot, Collin was charming and, as far as Kate was concerned, harmless. As always, he tried to look the stern security guard, and as always, he couldn't help but slip into a smile.

He nodded. “I thought you might not come.”

“I didn't think I had a choice. You know Godfried when he wants something.”

“There's always a choice, girly,” MacNab said, walking her up the back steps. “There aren't many places to hide when the man comes looking though. I got called back from vacation enough times to know that.”

“I didn't think security guys were allowed vacation, Nabby.”

He reddened a little at the nickname. Always did, even after twenty-five years. “Sometimes Mister Grace felt that way, I think.”

“I could always hide in the hedges.”

“If you're referring to the incident—”

“Where I disappeared?”

“Where we had to send the state police to find you,” he finished, reaching the top and opening the French doors, “I wouldn't recommend it.”

She shrugged. “It worked when I was eleven!”

“And what happened when they found you?”

“Dad grounded me,” she said. “And I got a whipping,” she added miserably.

“Don't think the man is above that now just because your daddy's gone.”

He put a hand on her back and walked her inside. The view from the back door always made her feel like she was entering a library. Not the pleasant kind from your local middle school,
but a vast, towering maze from the imagination of Umberto Eco. The lower level glowed with the pulse of an orange fire set back in the den. Spiral stairs with carved handrails led up to the second floor mezzanine on either end of the room. And on all sides, top floor and bottom, were shelves and shelves of books. Most were of the dusty and parched variety only a lawyer could find interesting, and Godfried Grace was a lawyer's lawyer, but there were shelves full of classics too. A fine collector, the good man of the house.

“He's waiting for you in his study,” Collin said.

Kate left him at the foot of the stairs and ascended to the second floor. She was greeted by Chester, her godfather's big golden lab. She gave him a quick pat on the head, and he drooled appreciatively. Chester was twelve now, nearly thirteen, and it showed. He was a little better off than George the dalmatian, however, who was laying grumpily in the corner. When she waved at him, he raised his head and then promptly went back to sleep.

“Well, at least one of you is glad to see me,” she said, finding the hall that led back to the office. Walking through almost made her glad she didn't have much money. Most of her father's inheritance had gone to her brother, and she hadn't made much as an executive assistant, even one who worked for a company as big as Valley Oil. She liked the place enough, but she thought she would go nuts living in it. It was too stale, too empty. And no place for kids, when you got right down to it.
But aren't you getting a little old to think about kids, Kate?

She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking? If she had a place like this and didn't like it, she could always sell it and trade it in for something she did like. So yeah,
almost
glad she didn't own it was about right.

Kate found the door at the end of the hall and knocked.

A muffled voice: “Come in.”

She pushed the door open and entered her godfather's office. As always, it felt more cramped than it really was, in part due to the smells: shoe leather and papyrus and old man musk.

“Hello, Godfried. How was your trip?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Where's your escort?”

Straight to business, that one.

“I sent them away.”

“What?”

Kate stepped inside. “Come on, Godfried. I don't need bodyguards. You and I both know that.”

“I know no such thing.” He shuffled around the desk and gave her a hug. She noticed with some amusement that he was wearing a designer blue bathrobe that looked like it cost more than her dress. Godfried had never shared her father's views on fashion and frugality.

“You don't just send away a security detail, Katelyn. Are they outside? Are they watching?”

“Well, 'sent them away' might be a bit of a stretch. I sort of gave them the slip this afternoon.”

He stared at her, then broke into rattling, old-man laughter. “Gave them the slip? Whatever for?”

“I guess I needed to be alone for a while. It's not like they were looking too hard. I was back at the cemetery for the better part of an hour when you called.”

He shook his head and put one hand on his hip. “Christ Almighty, Katelyn, you are your father's daughter. Gave them the slip, indeed. How many young women do you think could have done that?”