Thomas Colfax turned to Adam. "We have a deal. I want it in writing, and I want it signed by the Attorney General."

"You'll have it." Adam looked around the shabby motel room. "Let's get out of this place."

"I won't go to a hotel. Moretti's got ears everywhere."

"Not where you're going."

At ten minutes past midnight a military truck and two jeeps, manned by armed marines, rolled up in front of Room 14. Four military police went into the room and came out a few moments later, closely escorting Thomas Colfax into the back of the truck. The procession pulled away from the motel with one jeep in front of the truck and the second jeep following in the rear, headed for Quantico, Virginia, thirty-five miles south of Washington. The three-car caravan proceeded at high speed, and forty minutes later arrived at the United States Marine Corps base at Quantico.

The commandant of the base, Major General Roy Wallace, and a detail of armed marines were waiting at the gate. As the caravan came to a stop, General Wallace said to the captain in charge of the detail, "The prisoner is to be taken directly to the stockade. There is to be no conversation with him."

Major General Wallace watched as the procession entered the compound. He would have given a month's pay to know the ident.i.ty of the man in the truck. The general's command consisted of a 310-acre Marine Corps air station and part of the FBI's Academy, and was the princ.i.p.al center for training officers of the United States Marine Corps. He had never before been asked to house a civilian prisoner. It was totally outside regulations.

Two hours earlier, he had received a telephone call from the commandant of the Marine Corps himself. "There's a man on his way to your base, Roy. I want you to clear out the stockade and keep him in there until further orders."

General Wallace thought he had heard wrong. "Did you say clear out the stockade, clear out the stockade, sir?" sir?"

"That's right. I want this man in there by himself. No one is to be allowed near him. I want you to double the stockade guard. Understood?"

"Yes, General."

"One more thing, Roy. If anything happens to that man while he's in your custody, I'm going to have roasted a.s.s for breakfast."

And the commandant had hung up.

General Wallace watched the truck lumber toward the stockade, then returned to his office and rang for his aide, Captain Alvin Giles.

"About the man we're putting in the stockade-" General Wallace said.

"Yes, General?"

"Our primary objective is his safety. I want you to handpick the guards yourself. No one else is to go near him. No visitors, no mail, no packages. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want you personally to be in the kitchen when his food is being prepared."

"Yes, General."

"If anyone shows any undue curiosity about him, I want that reported to me immediately. Any questions?"

"No, sir."

"Very good, Al. Stay on top of it. If anything goes wrong, I'll have roasted a.s.s for breakfast."

49.

Jennifer was awakened by the soft drumming of the early morning rain, and she lay in bed listening to it gently hammering against the house.

She glanced at the alarm clock. It was time to begin her day.

Half an hour later, Jennifer walked downstairs into the dining room to join Joshua for breakfast. He was not there.

Mrs. Mackey came in from the kitchen. "Good morning, Mrs. Parker."

"Good morning. Where's Joshua?"

"He seemed so tired that I thought I'd let him sleep a little longer. He doesn't have to start back to school until tomorrow."

Jennifer nodded. "Good idea."

She ate her breakfast and went upstairs to say good-bye to Joshua. He was lying in his bed, sound asleep.

Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed and said softly, "Hey, sleepyhead, do you want to say good-bye?"

He slowly opened one eye. "Sure, friend. 'Bye." His voice was heavy with sleep. "Do I have to get up?"

"No. Tell you what. Why don't you laze around today? You can stay inside and have fun. It's raining too hard to go outdoors."

He nodded drowsily. "Okay, Mom."

His eyes closed again and he was asleep.

Jennifer spent the afternoon in court, and by the time she finished and arrived home it was after seven o'clock. The rain, which had been a drizzle all day, was coming down in torrents, and as Jennifer drove up the driveway, the house looked like a besieged castle surrounded by a gray, churning moat.

Mrs. Mackey opened the front door and helped Jennifer out of her dripping raincoat.

Jennifer shook the damp out of her hair and said, "Where's Joshua?"

"He's asleep."

Jennifer looked at Mrs. Mackey with concern. "Has he been sleeping all day?"

"Heavens, no. He's been up and around. I fixed his dinner, but when I went upstairs to get him he had dozed off again, so I just thought I'd let him be."

"I see."

Jennifer went upstairs into Joshua's room and quietly entered. Joshua was asleep. Jennifer leaned over and touched his forehead. He had no fever; his color was normal. She felt his pulse. There was nothing wrong except her imagination. She was letting it run away with her. Joshua had probably been playing too hard all day and it was natural that he was tired. Jennifer slipped out of the room and returned downstairs.

"Why don't you make some sandwiches for him, Mrs. Mackey? Leave them at the side of the bed. He can have them when he wakes up."

Jennifer had dinner at her desk, working on briefs, preparing a trial deposition for the next day. She thought about calling Michael to tell him she was back, but she was hesitant about speaking to him so soon after the night with Adam...He was too perceptive. It was after midnight when she finished reading. She stood up and stretched, trying to relieve the tension in her back and neck. She put her papers in her attache case, turned out the lights and went upstairs. She pa.s.sed by Joshua's room and looked in. He was still asleep.

The sandwiches on the stand beside the bed were untouched.

The following morning when Jennifer went down to breakfast, Joshua was there, dressed and ready for school.

"Morning, Mom."

"Good morning, darling. How are you feeling?"

"Great. I was really tired. Must have been that Mexican sun."

"Must have been."

"Acapulco's really neat. Can we go back there on my next vacation?"

"I don't know why not. You glad to be getting back to school?"

"I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me."

In the middle of the afternoon, Jennifer was taking a deposition when Cynthia buzzed.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's a Mrs. Stout on the line and-"

Joshua's homeroom teacher. "I'll take it."

Jennifer picked up the telephone. "h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Stout. Is anything wrong?"

"Oh no, everything's fine, Mrs. Parker. I didn't mean to alarm you. I just thought I might suggest to you that it would be a good idea if Joshua got more sleep."

"What do you mean?"

"He slept through most of his cla.s.ses today. Miss Williams and Mrs. Toboco both mentioned it. Perhaps you could see to it that he gets to bed a bit earlier."

Jennifer stared at the telephone. "I-yes, I'll do that."

Slowly, she replaced the receiver and turned to the people in the room watching her.

"I-I'm sorry," she said. "Excuse me."

She hurried out to the reception room. "Cynthia, find Dan. Ask him to finish the deposition for me. Something has come up."

"All-" Jennifer was already out the door.

She drove home like a madwoman, exceeding the speed limit, going through red lights, her mind filled with visions of something terrible having happened to Joshua. The drive seemed interminable and when her house appeared in the distance, Jennifer half expected to see the driveway filled with ambulances and police cars. The driveway was deserted. Jennifer pulled up beside the front door and hurried into the house.

"Joshua!"

He was in the den watching a baseball game on television.

"Hi, Mom. You're home early. Did you get fired?"

Jennifer stood in the doorway staring at him, her body flooding with relief. She felt like an idiot.

"You should have seen the last inning. Craig Swan was fantastic!"

"How do you feel, son?"

"Great."

Jennifer put her hand on his forehead. He had no fever.

"You sure you're all right?"

"Of course I am. Why do you look so funny? You worried about something? You want to have a man-to-man talk?"

She smiled. "No, darling, I just-does anything hurt you?"

He groaned. "I'll say. The Mets are losing six to five. You know what happened in the first inning?"

He began an excited replay of his favorite team's exploits. Jennifer stood there looking at him, adoring him, thinking, d.a.m.n my imagination! Of course he's all right. d.a.m.n my imagination! Of course he's all right.

"You go on and watch the rest of the game. I'll see about dinner."

Jennifer went into the kitchen, lighthearted. She decided to make a banana cake, one of Joshua's favorite desserts.

Thirty minutes later, when Jennifer returned to the study, Joshua was lying on the floor, unconscious.

The ride to Blinderman Memorial Hospital seemed to take forever. Jennifer sat in the back of the ambulance clutching Joshua's band. An attendant was holding an oxygen mask over Joshua's face. He had not regained consciousness. The ambulance's siren was keening, but the traffic was heavy and the ambulance went slowly while curious people gaped through the windows, staring at the white-faced woman and the unconscious boy. It seemed to Jennifer a sickening violation of privacy.

"Why can't they use one-way gla.s.s in ambulances?" Jennifer demanded.