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Gamble didn’t rush his response, but he wanted to make sure he fully appreciated the implication. “Are you suggesting this wasn’t a suicide?”

“It’s more nuanced than that. Even if it was suicide, this isn’t necessarily a case of someone getting drunk, hitting an unfortunate low point, and doing something stupid. We could be talking about a clearheaded woman who felt trapped and came to a tragic conclusion that there was no way out of a situation more terrible than you and I could ever imagine.”

“Like an abusive marriage?” Gamble said, his voice taking on an edge. “We’re back to that now? This is going full circle.”

“I didn’t say abuse,” said the detective. “I said ‘a situation more terrible than you and I could ever imagine.’”

Gamble didn’t like the direction this was heading. “What does that mean?”

He felt his lawyer kick him in the ankle, and her admonition quickly followed.

“Christian, perhaps enough has been said here today.”

Gamble didn’t rebuff his lawyer lightly, but over his dead body would the meeting end on that note. “I want an answer to my question. I came here to shut down rumors of abuse and possible extortion. Now I’m hearing it could be evenworsethan that. What are you saying, Detective?”

“All I’m saying is this: If you want to know what’s driving the decision to audit your company, you’re talking to the wrong guy.”

“So the audit is not driven by abuse and possible extortion.”

“The audit could be routine. It could be driven by concerns over extortion. Or it could be driven by something else entirely. But—”

“That’s not helpful at all.”

“Let me finish,” the detective said. “If the cyber audit had anythingto do with extortion arising from allegations of abuse, I would think the FBI would have already been here asking for my files.”

Gamble considered the implications. “So it wasn’t you who fed them this angle? You’re not the one driving this bus?”

“Like I said, Mr. Gamble: You’re talking to the wrong guy.”

It was clear the detective had said all he was going to say, which was far more than Gamble had expected to hear. He thanked the detective for his time. He and his lawyer said nothing to one another until they were in the visitors’ lot outside the building, walking past the rows of blue-and-silver patrol cars.

“Do you want me to set up a meeting with the U.S. Attorney’s Office?” Abigail asked.

They stopped at the limo. “Not yet,” said Gamble. “I have better ways to find out what this audit is really all about.”

Chapter 9

Kate was across the street from the National Mall, standing exactly where Irving Bass had told her to meet him. At the nearby Washington Monument, the ring of American flags flapped in the afternoon breeze. Before her was the main entrance to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

At least she’d thought it was the main entrance. As Kate approached, she discovered that the curved portico, with its squared arches, window grating, and cubed lights, was not an entrance at all. It was a graceful limestone curtain that opened to the sky, hiding the jarring architecture of skewed lines and rough surfaces of the real entrance behind it. Kate didn’t know the architect’s purpose, but the duplicity of the design reminded her of her own pilgrimage to Auschwitz and the sign at the entrance gate, the lie that all the victims saw upon entering the death camp:arbeitmachtfrei; work will set you free.

“Right on time,” said Bass. He was waiting, in Oz-like fashion, behind the limestone curtain. With his flowing silver hair and bushy white eyebrows, he could have been the wizard.

“So this is our research trip?”

“Have you been here before?”

“No.”

“Pity. Follow me.”

Bass had a pair of admission tickets in hand and led her inside.

“Anything in particular we’re focused on?” asked Kate, as they crossed the lobby to the exhibit hall.

“Yes,” he said, still walking.

“Are you going to tell me, or am I supposed to guess?”

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