The Scent of Death Page 3

  Mary's face said that she thought Ted had more on his mind than that, but she wisely kept her own counsel. Tempers were still frayed from the long Amazon trip, and she had no desire to push Kate away.

  Ted Kane did not call at the house that night, nor telephone. It was morning before he spoke to them, and the strain was evident in his voice over the wire.

  "I was at headquarters half the night. As soon as I got there I was dragooned straight into the chief's office, and he and Willoughby made me go over every single thing that happened from the moment we were kidnapped to walking through the O'Donnells' door."

  "Everything?" Kate queried.

  "Everything. The trip down to Mexico on the ship, the flight to Brazil, the slave camp, how we bribed Gonzalez and José to help us escape, everything."

  "Ah, I see. So what happened? What did they say?"

  "They said that if the Invisible Death hadn't stopped at the same time we were kidnapped, they'd have locked me up in a loony bin and taken away my pension. Well, that and Willoughby said something about me being the best cop on the force, but I think he was just glad to see me. They grilled me so hard I thought they'd mistaken me for Al Capone. Finally they let go home and get some rest, but I'm due back in an hour."

  "Oh. I was hoping they might give you a few days' vacation."

  "Vacation? Not until after I talk to the chief, the district attorney, and probably the mayor. Then, yeah, they'll probably want me to disappear for a while. Why, did you have someplace in mind?"

  "Not that kind of vacation! To see the cherry blossoms."

  "What cherry blossoms?"

  "The ones that will be blooming soon in Washington, DC. They're ever so beautiful." Kate filled him in on the latest news and her plan to go to Washington to put questions to men in suits directly. "Besides, Eric was all set to jump on a tramp steamer for the Far East, and this was the only way I could stop him."

  "Huh. Well, the only way you're going to stop Eric from doing anything he wants to do is lock him in a cell, but this might slow him down. When were you planning to leave?"

  "If I could leave when I wanted to, I'd be going already. But since I don't have my own plane, this afternoon. Say, if we did have a plane, Eric could fly it. Remember me to ask Uncle Aloysius about buying an airplane."

  "Oh, no. Flying to Washington by yourself one thing, but persuading the old man to buy you the plane to do it in, that's an entirely different problem."

  "Yes, that's true. But I'm not flying to Washington by myself. Eric is insisting one of you boys go with me."

  Ted sucked in a breath. "My advice? Take Damien. If your choice is T.J. or nothing, stay home."

  Twelve hours later, as their airliner droned through the clouds covering the Midwest, Kate tried to adjust T.J. Gillis' snoring head more comfortably on her shoulder and worried about how she was going to mediate between a host of entrenched Washington civil servants and an ex-footballer who called himself "Professor Death."

  Chapter Four

  Seeking Answers

  "Why do I think that you're sending me to do research in the Natural History Museum so you can do something you don't want Eric to know about?"

  Kate stopped on the sidewalk outside their hotel and spent a moment fussing over T.J.'s tie, which always needed straightening.

  "Actually, Professor," she said while she was adjusting, carefully using the title she knew would flatter him the most, "there are two reasons, and neither has anything to do with what Eric wants or doesn't want. He's three thousand miles away, and has nothing to say about it. Besides," she added so that only he could hear, "we shouldn't be talking about him like this." She stepped back, pretending to admire her work but in reality despairing over how it had already begun to unravel. "First, you're going to have much more fun at the museum. They could probably use your help cataloging minerals. And second, the people I'm going to see are going to talk to me, because they know me. I speak their language. You don't. You'd rush in like a bull in a china shop."

  T.J. reached up to his collar and somehow gave it the illusion of being neat. "And what if something happens to you?"

  "Nothing is going to happen to me."

  "I don't know… Er--I mean, our friend, had a feeling something was going to happen. And you know how often his feelings turn out to be true."

  But Kate was already headed for a taxi waiting at the curb. "I'm going to be in the State, War, and Navy Building, one of the most heavily-guarded buildings in the world! What could possibly happen?"

  For a long time, absolutely nothing happened. Although the Reinhold name got her through the front door, Kate quickly found that the federal bureaucratic run-around could confound even the most savvy of players--and she was out of practice. Not only that, but many of the people she had known from the days of accompanying her father across the globe had retired, moved on, or died, and their replacements were none too eager to have a young lady upsetting the apple cart of their carefully-ordered routines.

  Washington is a land of back-scratching, favors returned for favors taken, and Kate had no favors to give or to call in. A decade of martial arts training had taught her the value of leverage, but she lacked that, as well. But after two hours of office-hopping, couch-sitting, and polite brush-offs, she found herself staring at a door bearing the legend, "Klimpton Monet, Deputy Undersecretary." Steeling herself for another battle against polite disregard, she opened the door and entered the outer office.

  "Good morning," she said to the polished young man behind the desk. No response. "I was hoping for a few minutes of the undersecretary's time," she added.

  The young man raised his head from the file he was pretending to read. The desk plaque read "Chester Manley," but Kate was beginning to doubt that his name suited him. Upon seeing her for the first time, men tended to brace their backs, square their shoulders, and put on their best and most helpful smiles. Chester Manley did none of those. He blinked precisely once behind his utterly spotless spectacles, and intoned:

  "I am sorry, the undersecretary is quite busy. Did you have an appointment?" he added in the tone of a maitre'd who knows perfectly well you do not have a reservation.

  Kate hit him with a smile that had been known to jump-start stalled treaty negotiations.

  "No, but it's really terribly important. You see, my name is Katherine Reinhold. I'm the daughter of Ambassador Morgan Reinhold."

  The merest flicker of emotion flashed in the young man's eyes, but it was extinguished in an instant.

  "I am very sorry, Miss Reinhold, but the undersecretary is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed."

  Kate looked around to locate the ubiquitous sofa. "I can wait. It's about my father. I was given to understand that he was sent on a diplomatic mission and now he's missing."

  The impassive façade had returned. "And this concerns the undersecretary?"

  "So I was given to understand." Kate was beginning to wish she'd brought the Professor with her after all. This rude secretary could use a lesson that Kate felt it would be unladylike to administer herself.

  "I am sorry," he repeated abruptly. "The undersecretary is out and will not be returning for some time."

  "But you just said he was in a meeting!"

  A precise blink. "I never said he was in his office."

  Kate turned on her heel and left before she did something for which the Professor would have to bail her out of jail.

  She slumped against a wall inside the front entrance, pulling off her hat and fanning herself in frustration. A steady stream of men, and a few women, walked by in both directions, many holding briefcases and bulging leather folders. The men gave her sidelong glances they thought she did not notice; the women studiously ignored her.

  "Katherine?"

  Kate pulled herself out of her daze to see that an older man had stopped in front of her, giving her a quizzical look. He had white hair and sagging jowls that melded imperceptibly into his neck, giving him a look not unlike a large, wise turtle.
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  "Congressman Pettigrew!" Belatedly, she popped her hat back on and tried to straighten out her dress. "It's been a long time."

  The gentleman raised his eyebrows and gave her a grandfather's obliging smile.

  "Apparently a very long time," he said. "It's Senator Pettigrew now. I received an emergency appointment. I was just sworn into the Senate a month ago."

  Kate colored. "Oh--congratulations. I'm afraid I've been rather too busy of late to keep up with all the news."

  The smile left his face. "I know, my dear. I heard about your brother. My condolences. I hope they find the men responsible."

  "Oh, I believe they already have," Kate replied with more certainty than she let on.

  The senator expressed his satisfaction at the news. "I was just heading to meet a friend of mine for lunch. I know that you might not find two old gentlemen very entertaining, but it would certainly cause some comment at the club if I walked in with you on my arm."

  His words went a long way toward lifting the depression she had been feeling. "As a matter of fact, I'd love to take you up on your offer, but I'm here on an errand." At the senator's prompting, she swiftly summarized what she knew of her parents' situation, and her futile attempts to learn more. Senator Pettigrew's eyes narrowed.

  "Lunch can wait a few minutes. A gentleman never abandons a lady in distress."

  The curt and correct Mr. Manley had evidently finished reading his critical file, because he looked up as soon as his door opened. He looked annoyed when he saw Kate, then frowned when Senator Pettigrew followed her.

  "Can I help you with something, sir?"

  The senator favored him with a thin smile that had nothing grandfatherly in it.

  "I believe the young lady was ahead of me."

  Manley bobbed his head. "Of course, sir, but I already know what the young lady is about. How can I help you, sir?"

  "You can tell Undersecretary Monet that the young lady would like to see him."

  Manley's composure slipped the faintest bit, and his annoyance began to return.

  "I'm sorry, but as I've explained to the young lady, the Undersecretary is unable to see anyone without an appointment."

  The old man leaned over the desk. "Tell the Undersecretary that I am here to see him, then. The name is Pettigrew."

  "I--"

  "Senator Pettigrew."

  Thirty seconds later, Kate was sitting down to a meeting with Klimpton Monet, Assistant Undersecretary for Far Eastern Affairs.

  Like his secretary, Klimpton Monet was apparently too busy to acknowledge a lady walking into his office; although he stood to greet her, he returned to the notes he was writing as soon as he sat down again. Unlike his secretary, Monet was at least gentleman enough to admit it.

  "You must excuse me, Miss Reinhold, the business of state never stops for breath--as I'm sure you understand."

  "Of course, Mr. Secretary. But I've come a very long way to--"

  "I know why you've come, Miss Reinhold, and I sympathize." He finished his writing and folded his work very small package, as though it were too confidential to be risk being left open on his desk. He now graced Kate with his full attention. "Your father was dispatched by President Hoover personally to Quanyu several weeks ago on a diplomatic mission. As it is no secret, I can disclose that his instructions to were to assure the King of Quanyu of the United States' continuing faithful commitment to its allies in the region. You may not be aware, but Quanyu and the United States have been fast friends since the days of the current king's grandfather."

  "I was not aware of that," Kate admitted, tactfully omitting that she had never even heard of the kingdom until a few days ago. Plainly, this interview was going nowhere and Monet was readying her for her exit. "That's a lovely fragrance," she added. It was in fact, quite beautiful, but so subtle that she had not caught in when she first came in. "What is it? I don't recognize it at all."

  Monet waved off the question. "My secretary brings them in on occasion. He seems to have some idea that they will soothe me and make my workday easier. I really don't notice them any more." Abruptly he turned and plucked a blossom from a vase on the cabinet behind him. "Please, take one. I won't miss it."

  Kate smiled and accepted the flower. "Well, if you 're certain…thank you." Up close, the scent was just as lovely, if a bit overpowering. "But please, sir, is there nothing else you can tell me about my parents?"

  "I'm afraid not. And now I must ask you to excuse me. I have an important meeting at the White House. And really, Miss Reinhold, there's nothing for you to worry about. Please return to Los Angeles. I am certain there's a particular young man anxiously waiting for you, am I right?"

  Kate swallowed her answer, rose, and with perfect diplomacy thanked Monet again for the flower.

  "Wait," he said. "I apologize. The stem might still be wet from the vase." He took back the flower and wrapped it in a sheet of paper from his blotter, returning it with a smile. "It's crude, but it should serve."

  Thanking the undersecretary for the final time, Kate took her leave. Not until she had left the building did she unwrap her flower and extract the note she had seen Assistant Undersecretary Monet hide there.

  Chapter Five

  Crime in the Capitol

  "Someone may be watching me. Meet me in one hour at the Lincoln Memorial."

  Automatically, Kate checked her watch. It was well after noon; T.J. would presently be wondering where she was--unless, as she had planned, he was so wrapped up in his rocks and gemstones that they would have to throw him out of the building before he would leave them. That she must keep the appointment with Undersecretary Monet was never in doubt.

  But why a clandestine rendezvous? The man was an assistant undersecretary of State; if he thought he was in some kind of danger, or under surveillance, he had but to make a call and the building would be flooded with FBI agents. Was he truly that paranoid?

  Kate shook her head. If she made it to the meeting, he could explain it to her. And he would explain what he knew of her parents' whereabouts as well, since it was unthinkable he had simply picked her out as a random recipient for his information. Something about her had made him trust her; perhaps the fact that, as Ambassador Reinhold's daughter, he felt that she of all people could be trusted. Kate checked her watch again--if only she had enough time to fetch Professor Death, she would feel much more confident. That she could take care of herself she never questioned, but people always underestimated her, and having a man around could serve a deterrent effect on hostile actions. But there was no time--besides, she reasoned, bringing a stranger might scare Monet off, so perhaps it was better she venture there alone.

  The Memorial was only a few minutes' ride away, but Eric had always told her that a smart general surveys the battlefield first. She stepped to the curb, and a taxi appeared as if it had been waiting for her signal.

  "The Lincoln Memorial," she instructed, and sank back in her seat, studying the paper she held in her lap. It gave her no new clues, but it did serve to distract her and smooth her roiling thoughts.

  So distracted was she that it was some time before she realized that she was still in the back of the cab, and that they had not yet reached the Memorial. Frowning, she peered past the driver through the windshield. Her blood ran cold. She knew Washington, and this was not the way to the Lincoln Memorial. They had just crossed the Mall, and she watched in horror as they headed south past the Washington Monument.

  "Hey, you're going the wrong way," she protested, but the driver ignored her except to press the accelerator. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

  The ugly revolver barrel that suddenly appeared under her nose told her that the driver was going wherever he wanted.

  The only thing that could have diverted T.J. "Professor Death" Gillis from carrying out Eric's instructions was the chance to visit one of the nation's foremost geological collections. He had never been in Washington, and the lure of the National Museum of Natural History at the famous Smi
thsonian Institution was too great to resist, although it was not without qualms that he watched Kate drive away. Finally, he shrugged. As she said, she was going to the State Department, housed in the same building as the War Department. She would probably be surrounded by soldiers and sailors, all of whom would be only too happy to lend a charming little blonde all the help she could handle…all of a sudden, he was wishing he had gone with her.

  Be that as it might, there was nothing he could do about it now. He just hoped that Kate would not be returning to LA with her head filled with thoughts of some dashing young captain. Ted would break his neck.

  He forgot his misgivings the moment he stepped into the National Museum of Natural History. This was heaven; even in his classes at UCLA he had never felt in such awe of the sheer learning this building represented! When he reached the mineral exhibits, he lost all awareness of anything outside of these rooms. Strolling up and down and long aisles he was delighted to find a large array of blue, pink, and green beryl, one of his personal favorites. Time and again he thought he had discovered an error in cataloguing as Kate had suggested, but every time he realized upon further examination that the identification was exactly right. He could have spent all day in there.

  Reluctantly, he tore himself away from the stones and approached a guard. There was so much more, and he had so little time.

  "Excuse me, could you direct me to the Burgess Shale exhibit?"

  "Of course." The guard pointed past T.J. to his left, giving detailed instructions. "It's a good time to go, right now," he added. "Most people are headed to find some lunch."

  "Lunch?" He glanced at his watch. "Is that the time?" Kate was surely finished by now, and probably wondering where he had gone. If she had left the War Department and all of its soldiers and was wandering through the Capitol alone when he was supposed to be chaperoning her…!