The Fellowship by William Tyree

before becoming Preston’s executive assistant.
    In an interview with a local newspaper, Vera Borst claimed to have raised Mary herself while working her way up through various positions in local and national government. By the time Mary had entered high school, her mother had taken a prominent position with UNICEF, and more recently, had been appointed an under secretary-general of the United Nations. She now lived in Seattle with her life partner, an American scientist.
    “ Mary Borst’s mother is kind of a big deal,” Carver remarked.
    Ellis looked up. “ Why focus on Preston’s assistant right now?”
    Carver switched off his tablet. “Say more about that.”
    “W e have two high-ranking politicians ritually murdered on the same night. We should be looking for connection points. If we can find out what they had in common, and which relationships they may have shared, maybe we can find out who wanted them dead.”
    “ Ever spend any time with the executive assistant to a senator?”
    “Can’t sa y that I have.”
    Ellis lowered her tablet, reached into the small bag she’d packed and pulled out a can of Venom energy drink. Carver’s right eyebrow went up independently of the left.
    “Venom? You’d actually buy something called Venom and put it into your body?”
    Ellis shrugged. “It’s just caffeine, guarana and sugar.”
    “ More sugar? I couldn’t help but notice that you added some to your coffee earlier.”
    “Could we stop talking about my nutri tional habits for a moment? You were explaining why you think we should burn effort on the senator’s assistant.”
    “ Executive assistants on the Hill play a role that is simultaneously powerful and menial. They have a hand in everything from daily scheduling to the senator’s personal life and what he wears. And still, they pick up dry-cleaning, get coffee, and act as a gatekeeper, which means dealing with a lot of irate friends and constituents who can never get enough time with him.”
    “What’s your point ?”
    “That Mary Borst probably knew the senator better than his own wife did. If there’s anyone who could tell us what the relationship was between Preston and Gish, it was her.”
    “You seem to be forgetting the fact that she’s dead.”
    “No. I’m making the reasonable assumption that she had a confidant. Someone she told about her fears and anxieties. That person might be her roommate, or it might be her mother, but we need to talk to them, see if they know anything.”
    “And I suppose you’d like me to board the next plane back to Washington to do that?”
    Carver held his hands up in surrender. “Whoa. This isn’t personal. We’re just talking strategy here.”
    Ellis chuckled the way people sometimes do when they are trying hard to remain civil. “Isn’t it personal? Within 60 seconds of Speers assigning the two of us to this mission, you suggested I remain stateside while you go to London alone.”
    “I was trying to be practical.”
    “Were you being practical when you didn’t get back to me after the Baltimore Marathon?”
    So that was it . “You’re right,” he said. “I owe you an apology. You contacted me four times, and it was inexcusable of me not to get back to you.”
    “Four times?” Now you’re making me sound like some kind of stalker. I left you one voice message, maybe two.”
    It had definitely been four, Carver knew. Her memory was average, but Carver’s was extraordinary. The Monday after the marathon, Ellis had texted him at 11:48 a.m., saying it had been great to see him. She had then called and left a voice message at 2:10 pm the following day. She had called and left no messages at 7:54 pm on Thursday and again at 8:14 pm on Friday.
    But Carver had learned long ago not to quibble over details in social situations, or reveal the freakish accuracy with which he could recall dates and events. His condition helped his work, but did little to improve his interpersonal relations. He had