The Coil Read Free Page A

negotiable. “If we arrange it right, Sansborough could turn out to be useful. Perhaps vital, if we can get a handle on who has the files, or if she remembers something that she doesn’t realize is important. As you said yourself, she’s our last link.”
    â€œPossibly,” the voice from the distance admitted. “You have a plan?”
    â€œOf course.” Relieved, Mellencamp smiled to himself. “Consider the situation. Right now, Sansborough is at loose ends and probably depressed. Both her parents are dead, and her husband was killed long ago. She has no brothers or sisters, and because of the life she’s been leading, she has no real friends, except her cousin in California.”
    â€œSarah Walker, yes. I remember. And?”
    â€œWhat she wants most is to go back to work for Langley, because that’s what she understands. It’s familiar, comfortable.”
    â€œYour DCI considers her a security risk.”
    â€œOf course Arlene does, and she’s right. Arlene will continue to offer her the hope of contract work, just to keep her quiet. But there’s nothing Sansborough can do to make it right with Langley. She’s been keeping busy by working on a graduate degree in psychology at Georgetown. I’ve encouraged her to continue. What we must do is create an opportunity for her in that field. Something irresistible. But we must move quickly, before she finds some other interest or gets in our way somehow. If we handle this right, she’ll vanish into academia, just another woman with a past she’d like to forget. A cipher in some college or university. Small. Then as long as she stays quiet and out of the way, we can watch her. She won’t be a danger to us. Or to herself.”
    Â 
    Grey Mellencamp lived on a Thoroughbred horse farm some forty miles east of the safe house. The limousine had left the country road for the Beltway, where the nighttime traffic was thick and frustrating, normal for this hour. The moon was rising, casting a wash of silver across the speeding cars and the houses and the businesses, which spread in a vast ocean of winking lights everywhere he looked.
    He returned the clippings to his briefcase, relieved Cronus had agreed to his plan. His mind wandered tiredly, avoiding the touchy parts of his past, but as soon as the limo paused at the farm’s front gatehouse and the security guard waved the limo onto his land, he began to relax. Although he had not located the Carnivore’s files, at least he had saved an innocent woman’s life.
    The limo pulled up to his front portico, where lighted carriage lamps sent a yellow glow across the brick drive. Chet jumped out from behind the wheel and ran around to open the door.
    Mellencamp emerged into the cold, carrying his briefcase. He nodded at Chet and climbed the front steps wearily.
    â€œSix A.M . tomorrow, sir?” Chet called to his back.
    â€œYes, of course. See you then.” Unaccountably, Mellencamp turned to add a final few words to his driver. “Have a nice night, Chet.”
    â€œThank you, sir. You, too, sir.”
    The secretary of state walked inside, where the house was aromatic with the scent of a pine fire. He headed down the hall, shrugging out of his overcoat, and entered his den. Cherrywood wainscoting lined the walls, and heavy drapes on the French doors protected the room from the night’s freeze. He dropped his coat onto a sofa and fell heavily into his chair beside the fireplace.
    The flames licked up orange and blue. It was a real fire with real logs, none of that fake nonsense so many young people used now to avoid cleaning out the ashes. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, warming them, again nervous about who had the files and what it meant to his dead wife’s good name and to his future.
    His housekeeper called out from the kitchen. “I heard you come in, sir. Would you like a drink?”
    He raised his voice.