The Hadrian Memorandum - Allan Folsom [173]
11:10 A.M.
There was a knock on the door, it opened, and Birns stepped into the room. Mário Gama was with him.
“There is a man wearing the white jacket of Raisa Amaro’s laundry in the reception room,” Mário said. “He told the receptionist he was to ask for Ms. Tidrow or Mr. Marten and tell them he has a truck waiting. She referred him to me.”
“He asked for us by name?” Marten said flatly.
“Yes, sir.”
“He was to have waited until we came out. I’m not sure he even knew our names.”
“Maybe he did know and simply forgot his instructions. He came in to make sure nothing went wrong.”
“Maybe.” Marten looked at his watch. “He’s early. He was to have been here at eleven fifteen.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ryder said. “Put the photographs back together. Let’s get out of here.”
Anne felt her danger antenna come up. She looked at Marten.
He was already moving, nodding to Agent Grant in the hallway and closing the door. Now he looked to Gama. “Do you know the laundry’s telephone number?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you please call and ask for Raisa. When you get her, hand the phone to me.”
Mário’s eyes darted cautiously around the room. Then he lifted a BlackBerry from his pocket and punched in a number. They could hear it ring through; then someone picked up and a male voice answered in Portuguese.
“Yes.”
“Raisa Amaro, please.”
There was a pause and then, “Who’s calling, please?”
Gama looked to Marten and covered the mouthpiece. “He wants to know who’s calling.”
“Tell him a personal friend.”
Gama nodded and did as Marten asked.
“Just a minute.”
Twenty seconds passed, then thirty. Gama looked to the others and shrugged. “He must have gone to get her.”
Marten and Anne exchanged glances. Marten looked back to Gama. “Where is the laundry truck parked? Which door did the man come in through?”
“The front door. His truck is parked in front.”
Marten felt the hairs stand up on his neck. Immediately he turned to Gama. “Click off.”
He did, and Marten asked him another question. “Can you find out if an ambulance was called to the laundry in the last half hour?”
Concern spread over Gama’s face. “Yes, sir.”
“Please do it.”
“Yes, sir.” The security director said, with a nod, then turned away, punched a number into his BlackBerry, and waited.
Marten looked to the others. “Ten to one it was the police who answered the phone. If so, they were tracing the call. That was the reason for the delay. It also means that White found out about Raisa, learned where she worked, and went there. The driver out front is one of his men.”
“Thank you,” Gama said in Portuguese and then clicked off the phone, his expression grim. “Emergency medical vehicles were called there by the police. Four people were found shot to death. Three men and a woman.”
“Raisa,” Anne mouthed.
Marten looked at her and nodded faintly, then turned back to Gama. “What did you tell the driver when he asked about us?”
“That I didn’t know anything and would see what I could find out. For some reason he didn’t look like a laundry worker.”
Immediately Marten’s eyes went to Ryder. “I presume your men brought friends along.”
“They’re armed, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Again Marten looked at Gama. “There are security cameras covering the front and rear entries. I saw them when I came in. Are there more?”
“Yes.”
“Where are the monitors?”
“In the Security Center. Down the hall the way we came in, just before you reach the lobby.”
“Please take me there.”
Gama hesitated, unsure of what was going on and more than a little concerned that the dead woman at the laundry was Raisa. Marten read his unease.
“I don’t know how much Raisa told you, but the man you know as Mr. Ferguson”—he nodded at Ryder—“is United States Congressman Joseph Ryder, in Lisbon on a highly classified operation. The men