Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [90]
She handed one to him.
“They’ll have to show ID besides this,” he said. “We need the guest list
“It’s on its way over,” another agent said.
“Will you have time to—?” Annabel started to ask.
“The boss tossed us this last-minute,” one of the agents said, flashing a grin. “He’s known for that. But we’ll manage.” Then, as though he might have told a tale out of school, he looked away from her and made a call on his radio.
Being summoned to meet with them was last-minute for Annabel, too. She’d called a number given her by Nicki Frolich and was connected to the person in the Secret Service responsible for the president’s forays outside the White House. She was also put in touch with an officer from the thousand-strong Capitol Hill police force, whose mission was to protect the foreign diplomatic corps in Washington. He made an appointment to meet her there at five that afternoon, along with the head of security for the Brazilian Embassy. According to Frolich, there were mixed emotions at the embassy about the president’s sudden decision to attend the festivities following the private dinners. The ambassador was delighted. His staff was not.
The agent with the fact sheet went over it with Annabel. They discussed the number of embassy staff that would be working the ball, as well as the outside catering services and their people.
“What about these opera performers?” he asked.
“The Washington National Opera will provide musical entertainment. Some of the students in the Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist Program will perform
“We’ll need their names
“Of course
“These supernumeraries?” the agent said. “What’s their role?”
“They’ll be in costume and dress up the party, give it the right opera theme
“Costumes?”
“Yes. From famous operas
“That include masks?”
“For some, I’m sure
He noted that on the sheet.
“The president and first lady are due here at ten sharp,” the agent said.
“Yes,” Annabel said.
“They’ll stay a half hour
“That’s what I’ve been told
“He’ll make a couple of remarks
“We’ll be anxious to hear them,” said Annabel.
“Well, thank you, Mrs. Lee-Smith. We appreciate the cooperation. We’ll be back tomorrow morning and probably spend most of the day here
“Will I be needed?” she asked.
“Not the whole time, but we will want to speak with you from time to time. May I have your cell number?”
She gave him the number and watched the agents walk away, stopping every few feet on their way out to Massachusetts Avenue, making notes as they went; one wielded a small video camera with which he taped the entrance to the embassy grounds.
Nice young men, she thought as she awaited the arrival of the next security detail. She was aware of the enormity of their job, protecting the free world’s most powerful leader from harm. She was certain they weren’t pleased at the president’s decision to make an appearance. Leaving the secured confines of the White House compounded their problems, she knew. That there were nuts out there, either acting alone or in concert with others, who would take pleasure in assassinating a president of the United States was an unfortunate reality.
• • •
Following his lunch with Pawkins, Mac Smith went to the computer in the apartment and Googled the Musinski murder. He and Annabel had pulled up only a fraction of the hundreds of articles that appeared, and Mac quickly accessed many others, until finding a few that mentioned Marc Josephson, from newspapers and magazines in Great Britain. Josephson had been interviewed in the months following the murder. In these pieces he talked of how he and Musinski had discovered the Mozart-Haydn string quartets after years of searching. The scores had been, he claimed, in the attic of a home on London’s outskirts. The home’s owner, a doddering old man, had died, and his daughter had held a tag sale to dispose of the house’s contents.
• • •
“At first,” Josephson said in one of the articles, “I didn’t realize what I’d come across. Aaron (Musinski)