“It’s the only one he has. They’ve got something on him. The qualifiers tell me he’s been preparing to use the writing as evidence of duress the moment a trial would open.”
I read the third paragraph again over Wiley’s shoulder. The name was a shell, but the venue was a Martha’s Vineyard address. The date was eight days away.
“The wedding,” I said.
“He’s calling for help,” Cabot said. “And I’m on the guest list.”
“That’s a generous read,” Wiley said.
“It’s the only read that explains the architecture of the document.”
I’d been ready to push back on it. I didn’t. He’d just told me, in a register I hadn’t heard from him, that he recognized the writing of a man who was waiting to be found. I believed him. That was the problem.
“Send this to Eamon,” I said.
“On it,” Wiley said.
“Encrypted. Full packet. Flag the third paragraph.”
Down the hall, Wiley’s secure handset rang once and stopped. It was Samuel.
Wiley didn’t move to call him back.
Eamon called us at nine-forty. Patterson was conscious. He could blink yes and no. The intubation would last another four to six hours. Doctors believed he might have a complete neurological recovery, but it was still uncertain.
Neither Farrow nor I slept. We alternated watch shifts while the other stayed with Cabot and Wiley.
Eamon called again at three p.m. “Patterson is off the tube. He’s talking. Patterson placed Köhler in the room with Henry six weeks ago. He is running operations. Henry is drafting under direction. Patterson has his writing under duress on the record.”
“Patterson’s a witness,” I said.
“Yes,” Eamon said. “There’s already a federal investigator in the room. Patterson may not survive long enough to testify in court, but they’ll have his deposition.”
“Does Henry know that we know?” I asked.
“No,” Eamon said. “And let’s keep it that way.”
Eamon ended the call, and I shared the news. “Cabot. You’re going to the wedding.”
He didn’t answer for a beat. Then he nodded slightly.
“Yes, I am.”
I crossed to the office door and went out. Farrow was on the third step of the stairs. He’d come to the staircase when he’dheard my voice change pitch on the call. He stopped where he was, and I looked up.
“Bad,” he said.
“Bad and good. Get up here.”
He came up. I headed down the stairs. I placed a hand on his shoulder as we passed. “Cabot and Wiley will catch you up.”
By six, Eamon had a working plan.
The Harcourts confirmed Cabot's invitation to the wedding. Federal would run the intercept on Köhler and the three operatives Henry’s drafting identified. The Guardians would protect Cabot. Farrow would stay with Wiley.
Eight days.
Wiley went to his bedroom at ten-twenty without speaking. Cabot took a book and a tumbler of whiskey to the parlor.