Chapter 64
Chapter 64
F ormulating a plan was difficult. We’d never get back into his farmhouse undetected. We’d managed once because we’d played the fool. It wouldn’t work again. He’d spot us a mile away. We couldn’t very well shock and awe him by running in guns a-blazing. If he was in his dungeon, he’d close down his computers, burn his drives, and escape through some secret tunnel out the back. He’d planned well. We’d never cover all the exits. We had to catch him someplace else.
I spoke first. “We need a trap. That doesn’t feel like a trap.”
Camp offered the obvious next question. “How do you trap a man who has everything and who is well aware of what a trap looks and feels like because he’s set most of them himself?”
Clay, ever the wise one, supplied the answer. “Offer him what he doesn’t have.”
This time Jess spoke. “Which is?”
I broke in. “The freedom to do what he wants, when he wants, with whomever he wants, wherever he wants. Right now he’s hiding in a dungeon where he controls all the variables. Guaranteeing his continued freedom. But he’s an arm’s-length voyeur, and every voyeur I’ve ever encountered, at some point, likes to get their hands dirty. They can only look for so long because looking doesn’t satisfy what touching does. Offer him a hands-on experience with the added excitement of different surroundings and the promise that he can’t get caught. But it can’t smell like a trap and can’t feel like an offer. You can’t sidle up next to him at the bar and drop a business card. ‘Yo, bro, room 202.’ He has to stumble upon the opportunity. Overhear what he shouldn’t. He’ll refuse a direct offer a thousand times over. He didn’t get this far by being stupid. But he might seize on a one-off if he thinks he can get away with it, especially if he believes he overheard you and you don’t know it. Remember, it’s got to feel like a shadow because he’s comfortable in darkness.”
I turned to Eddie and the A-Team. “I know you’ve been following and backtracking his phone. Any patterns?”
Eddie nodded. “The Gilded Kilt.”
I waited for an explanation. “While Maynard comes from Oregon, his people did not. They came from a bit farther east. Across the pond. Turns out he shares their taste in beer. Stouts, specifically. Couple nights a week, he tosses one or two back at the Gilded Kilt with like-minded beer drinkers who grant the esteemed senator a little slack. Even protecting him from outsiders. The locals have been known to toss a nosy journalist. It’s a family of sorts. A rather insulated crowd. Live music couple nights a week. But what happens street-side holds little comparison to life below street level. Have to be a member. There’s a bit of a wait list. As in a couple of years, unless you know somebody who can move you to the front of the line.”
“Which, I imagine, Maynard can do.”
Eddie nodded. “Only members can nominate future members, and any one member can blackball any nomination. No questions asked.”
I interrupted him. “This is good intel. You come by this alone?”
He shook his head. “Stackhouse.”
“Really?”
“Maynard nominated Ashley twenty-plus years ago. Ashley makes an appearance once or twice a year to rally the troops.” Eddie continued, “The underground space stretches a block or two. They have a couple of speakeasies, which are rooms for move private conversations. A basement card game frequented by DC elite. Maynard’s no good, loses constantly, but I doubt he’s as bad as he makes out to be.”
“What makes you say that?”
He handed me a slip of paper. “The other names at the tables. ”
I scanned it. “Lot of ‘Honorables’ on here.”
He nodded. “Federal too.”
“So you think maybe Maynard is playing the fool so he can keep his ear to the track?”
“If Maynard is the power behind the throne, the Oz of DC, he’s only as good as his information, and that doesn’t just fall from the sky. He gets it from somewhere, and I tend to think the blackjack table isn’t the only place he’s spending money.”
“You think he’s paying people off?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“If I put myself in Maynard’s shoes, I guess that depends on the information and what I intended to do with it.”
Eddie again. “We know he’s a regular two to four nights a week depending on activity on the hill. We also know he’s been a member there for about as long as he’s been in the Senate. If he lets his guard down anywhere, it might be there.”
Jess and BP searched the other names. “Lot of chiefs of staff, too.” A quick count. “Over thirty.”
I shook my head. “We don’t have time to plan an op like that. Too many contingencies. Too many unknowns.”
“Maybe not.” Eddie raised a finger. “Since that time you and Ellie flew to your island, Camp’s been schooling us on how we might trap Maynard at his own game. It’s risky, but if it works, it’s ironclad.”
I glanced at Camp, who shrugged. “Somebody’s got to catch the bad guys.”
“So you’ve done this before?”
“I told you that not long ago I made some guys mad.”
“Same guys?”
“Different guys. Same kind of power.”
“You should probably fill me in on that sometime.”
He nodded. “Probably.”
“So what’s the plan?”
They told me. And while the plan was solid, it had one glaring problem. “All of this is predicated on getting into the club and downstairs where the secret members meet. Which we can’t do.”
Eddie again. “Upon acceptance into what for all intents and purposes is a secret society, members are given an engraved key. No two are alike. It’s not high-tech. It’s old school. A physical silver key. Big thing, too. Like something used on a ship’s locker. Anyone with that key is granted access and all the benefits of the member. No questions asked. It’s viewed like a signet ring. Whoever holds the key holds the senator’s power. The theory is that much of the business of the Senate is conducted underground, outside the capital, between staffers.”
“Any idea who nominated Maynard for membership?”
“No. But every key is engraved with the member’s name and their sponsor’s. And their sponsor’s. And so on. It’s a bit of an honor thing.”
“How old is the club?”
Eddie shrugged. “Rumor on the street says it predates the Civil War and that the keys were minted from Union silver, although later members sympathized with both sides. It is also believed, though undocumented, that Booth left from there en route to the theater. True members are tight-lipped, but the keys don’t lie when it comes to lineage.”
“Interesting.” I paused. “I’m assuming Ashley has such a key.”
Camp nodded. “Stackhouse offered it.”
“Looks like we need it. So who’s going down underground?”
Jess poked her head up. “I love stout beer.”
I smiled. “Why does that not surprise me? But to pull it off, we need two in on the ruse.”
Clay, who had been listening quietly, spoke next. “You know, present company excluded, for most of my life, I haven’t been allowed in places like that.” He tipped his imaginary hat to me. “I’d be honored, if’n you don’t mind...”
He was perfect. “Done.” I spoke to the group. “But everything rests on timing. Down to the minute. The second even. If we miss it, Maynard will sniff a fake, and we won’t ever get it back. Remember, offer him darkness. Shadow. Meet him where he lives.”
And so the waiting began.