"Alex," she said, 'let's go have a drink. This is a shot in the dark, but I get the feeling that you need to talk to somebody. Why don't you talk to me?"

I must admit, the offer completely caught me off guard. I stammered out a response. "I'd like to, but not tonight. I have to go home. Rain check?"

"Sure, I understand. It's okay. Rain check," she said, but not before a look of hurt had passed over her face.

I never expected that from Agent Betsey Cavalierre. She had shown concern about my family. And she was vulnerable.

Chapter Fifty-Three

This was the place, the time, the opportunity. The Renaissance Mayflower Hotel on Connecticut Avenue near Seventeenth.

It was busy as ever that morning, busy and important-looking. The Mayflower had been the site of every presidential inaugural ball since Calvin Coolidge. The hotel had been completely renovated in 1992, with architects and historians working together to restore it to its earlier grandeur. It was a popular place for corporate conferences and board-of-directors meetings. That was how the Mastermind had come to choose it.

A blue-and-gold chartered tour bus had been waiting in front of the Mayflower since a little before nine. It was scheduled to leave at nine-thirty and would be making scheduled stops at the Kennedy Center, the White House, the Lincoln and Vietnam Memorials, the Smithsonian Institution and other favorite tourist spots around Washington. The bus company was called Washington On Wheels. The corporate group on board was from the Metro Hartford Insurance Company.

Sixteen women and two children were on the bus when the driver, Joseph Denyeau, finally shut the door at nine-forty. "All aboard for various museums, historic sites, and lunch," he announced into his microphone.

A corporate assistant named Mary Jordan stood up in front and addressed the group. Jordan was in her early thirties, attractive and likable, supremely efficient. She was courteous to the important women on the bus, without fawning over them or sounding obsequious. Her nickname at Metro Hartford was' Merry Mary."

"You all know the itinerary for this morning," she said. Then she

smiled brilliantly. "But maybe we should scrap the whole plan and go drinking. Just kidding," she added quickly.

"Boo," said one wife, 'that sounds like fun, Mary. Let's go to a real drinking bar. Where does Teddy Kennedy go for his morning wake-up shot?" Up and down the aisle everyone laughed.

The tour bus proceeded down the driveway of the hotel at a leisurely pace, then turned on to Connecticut Avenue. A few minutes later, the bus turned on to Oliver, which was a residential street. It was a shortcut drivers often took from the Mayflower.

A dark blue Chevy van backed out of a driveway about halfway down the block. The van's driver obviously didn't see the bus, but the bus driver saw the Chevy. He braked smoothly and stopped in the middle of the street.

The driver of the van wouldn't move even after Joe Denyeau sounded his horn. Denyeau figured that the man must be fed up with all the trucks and buses that used the side street as a shortcut. What other reason could there be for the guy to just sit there, staring angrily at him?