Free Seizure by Robin Cook Page B

you of the meeting, I will assume that would be acceptable, but to be one hundred percent certain, I’d have to run it by the senator.”
    â€œCan I assume you would come to the hotel and pick us up?”
    â€œI’m afraid that would be inadvisable. The safest plan would be for you and Dr. Lowell to take a taxi to the Union Station. At exactly nine o’clock, I will come by in a black Chevrolet Suburban with tinted windows and District plates: GDF471. I will pull up to the curb directly in front of the station. In case there is any problem, I will give you my cell phone number.”
    Stephanie wrote the number down as Carol relayed it.
    â€œCan the senator count on Dr. Lowell being there?”
    â€œI’ll convey this information to Dr. Lowell exactly as you have presented it to me.”
    â€œThat’s all I can ask,” Carol said. “However, I’d like to reemphasize how extremely important this is for both the senator and for Dr. Lowell. The senator used those exact words.”
    Stephanie thanked the woman, said she’d call back in fifteen minutes, and disconnected. She stared at Daniel. “This has to be one of the more bizarre episodes I’ve ever been involved in,” she said, breaking a short silence. “What’s your take?”
    â€œWhat the devil could this old geezer have in mind?”
    â€œI’m afraid there’s only one way to find out.”
    â€œDo you really think I should go?”
    â€œLet’s put it this way,” Stephanie said. “I think you’d be a fool not to go. Since the meeting is secret, you don’t even have to worry about losing any more self-esteem, unless you care what Ashley Butler thinks of you, and knowing what you think of him, I can’t imagine that’s the case.”
    â€œDid you buy this Carol Manning saying she didn’t know what the meeting was about?”
    â€œYes, I did. I detected some hurt feelings when she said it. My sense is that the senator has something far from mainstream up his sleeve that he wasn’t even willing to share with his chief aide.”
    â€œAll right,” Daniel said with a tinge of reluctance. “Call her back and say I’ll be at the Union Station at nine.”
    â€œThat’s we will be at the Union Station,” Stephanie said. “I meant what I said to Ms. Manning. I insist on going.”
    â€œWhy not,” Daniel said. “We might as well make it a party.”

four
    8:15 P . M ., Thursday, February 21, 2002
    Â 
    It appeared to Carol that every light was blazing in the senator’s modest Arlington, Virginia, home as she turned into the driveway and came to a stop. She glanced at her watch. With the vagaries of Washington traffic, it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to manage to arrive at Union Station at exactly nine o’clock. She hoped she’d timed it right, although things were not starting out auspiciously. It had taken ten minutes longer than she’d planned to get from her apartment in Foggy Bottom out to Ashley’s house. Luckily, with her grand plan, she’d given herself an extra quarter-hour leeway.
    Leaving the engine running and setting the emergency brake, Carol prepared to get out of her vehicle. But it turned out that exposing herself to the cold drizzle wasn’t necessary. Ashley’s front door opened, and the senator appeared. Behind him stood his portly wife of forty years, looking like the epitome of solid domesticity, dressed in a white, lace-fringed apron over a paisley housedress. Under the protection of the porch and following her apparent orders, he struggled to open his umbrella. What had started out that day as snow flurries had changed to steady rain.
    With his face hidden beneath the inverted bowl of the black umbrella, Ashley began descending his front steps. He moved slowly and deliberately, giving Carol a moment to study the blocky, slightly stooped, heavyset