The Diplomatic Coup

by Alan Elsner

  For once Jason was speechless. He just stared at Delphine so she continued.

  “Eventually my uncle had to settle for some small amount of money, just a fraction of what he’d spent on pursuing the lawsuit. He was very bitter. A few months later, he suffered a fatal heart attack, leaving my aunt with almost no means whatsoever. I was fourteen.”

  “And then?”

  “We were rescued by a Jewish charity which arranged for us to return to France. I was sent to a boarding school for kids from deprived backgrounds because my aunt was no longer capable of looking after me. She died a couple of years later, leaving me an orphan for the second time. But they were nice to me in the school. Eventually I graduated, went to college and became a journalist.”

  “What a sad story. So you were brought up both Christian and Jewish.”

  Delphine paused because they’d arrived at the heart of the matter.

  “That’s what you have to understand. I’m everything—and nothing. Sometimes I wear the crucifix my mother gave me when I was little; today I’m wearing the Star of David I got from my aunt.” She took it out to show him. “Sometimes I wear both at the same time. If there were a God, I’d be furious at him for what He did to me. Actually I am furious. How can you not believe in God and yet be so angry with Him?”

  Jason smiled wryly.

  “Wherever I go, I feel like a stranger,” Delphine continued. “I’m always searching for the feeling of safety I had as a child and never finding it. There’s no solid ground below my feet. If you lose your parents the way I lost mine, you lose your sense of security, your sense of who you are and where you belong. I float in the air. I’m both here but not here.”

  “That’s a sorry thing to say.”

  “You get used to it. I’ve even come to believe that it’s not all bad. I think it’s part of what makes me a good journalist. People talk to me, confide in me. Why? Because I’m a chameleon, always changing color, blending into the background. Or perhaps I’m just a blank screen on which everyone projects whatever they want to see.”

  “I don’t think I did that.”

  “When people get close to me, or even if they say they’re in love with me, which has happened a couple of times, I always wonder who it is they think they love when I’ve always taken such care not to reveal my inner self. But there’s much more you don’t know. For one, I found Erik Jens’ body.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “It was after I surprised you in the lobby in Jerusalem that morning when you brushed me off. I was furious. I went for a walk to cool off and that’s when I found him lying on the steps of the gay club with his throat slit. An hour later, I was in the hotel corridor and I heard someone rummaging inside his room, probably planting the pornographic videos. I hid around a corner and saw a man come out.”

  “Who?”

  “I didn’t get a close look. But he was dressed like one of you security guys. Remember, at that point only the murderers and I knew that Erik was dead.”

  “So you think whoever was in the room was the killer.”

  “There may have been several people involved.” Delphine hesitated for a second before plowing on. “I thought maybe you’d killed him.”

  “What? Me?” He rose halfway to his feet, then sank back. “How … how could you even think that? Me? A murderer?”

  “Your trousers were spattered that morning with something that looked like it could have been dried blood.”

  Jason clapped a hand to his head. “You’re right, I remember. You really don’t miss a thing, do you? But Delphine, it was just mud. I was angry about being demoted. I went outside and stomped in a puddle to let off steam. You have to believe me.”

  “If I still suspected you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. The real question is, who did order the murder? At the time, I refused to consider the most obvious suspect. She was my heroine. I wanted her to be perfect.”

  “You think it was Dayton?”

  “She’s the only one with a motive.”

  “This is insane. What motive?”

  “Erik knew her big secret and she couldn’t trust him to keep it to himself. He’d already leaked sensitive information to Ira Milstein.”

  “What was this big secret? Are you still stuck on this abortion nonsense?”

  “It’s not nonsense. I’m sure that’s what it was. Of course I can’t prove it. Todd Trautmann is still trying. He’ll probably be the next to die.”

  “What makes you so sure about the abortion?”

  “Lisa Hemmings had written a major investigative article on Secretary Dayton. Before it appeared, Newsweek sent over an advance copy to give her the opportunity to respond. I assume it went through the public affairs office headed by Erik Jens. Lisa told me her story would change the way people thought about Julia Dayton as a prospective presidential candidate. An illegal abortion certainly fits that description.”

  “That’s a big assumption but let’s say you’re right. What next?”

  “Lisa was neutralized in Damascus. As a result, her article never appeared—but there was now a new problem, namely Erik. Dayton already suspected his loyalty. She decided to test him by inventing a fake story about meeting a Palestinian terrorist. When he leaked it, she realized it was only a matter of time until the abortion story became public too. So she had him silenced. That should have been the end of it but the story refused to die. Tom Allstott was next to latch on to it. He worked for Schuyler who sent him to recover an incriminating photograph from Al Bauman. Allstott took a look at the photo, realized its worth and got greedy – so they killed him too.”

  “Wow. You have this all figured out.”

  “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  Jason thought for a moment. “I wish I did. You’d have to be a bit crazy, or at least highly imaginative, to concoct a story like that. But there are a couple of things that make me think you may be on to something.”

  “Like what?”

  He sighed. “Are you sure you want to know? I have a horrible feeling the more you know the worse it will be.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I hope I don’t regret this. Remember I once hinted that Secretary Dayton had a secret lover?”

  Delphine met his gaze. “Of course. We were in bed together eating fruit at the time. You wouldn’t tell me who it was.”

  “It was Erik Jens.”

  Now it was her turn to be surprised.

  “As head of security, it was my job to know everything about the Secretary’s comings and goings. I can tell you there were many late night conferences in hotel rooms with Erik, just the two of them. I doubt they were drafting press releases. Sometimes the ‘discussions’ went on all night. Then, suddenly one day, Erik was out of favor. No more private consultations, no more late night trysts.”

  “So she dumped him. Do you know why?”

  Jason shrugged. “Maybe she just got tired of him or perhaps she didn’t want to risk Schuyler finding out. Erik was devastated. He tried to hide it but it was pretty obvious if you saw him every day, the way I did. Every time she asked him to leave the room, he’d turn bright red and practically have a hissy fit. She took pleasure in humiliating him.”

  “That would explain why he started leaking stuff..”

  “You were right about another thing: Secretary Dayton was desperate to stop Lisa’s exposé being published. All through that trip, I kept hearing her talking on the phone to Schuyler about how they should handle it.”

  “So you’ve known the big secret all along.”

  “No, I just overheard snippets here and there and I wasn’t paying attention. We’re trained specifically not to listen when the people we’re protecting have confidential conversations in our presence, which they do all the time. But even I could hear this was a big deal. Then she found out that you and Lisa were going shopping
together in Damascus …”

  “How did she know that?”

  Jason had the grace to blush. “We’d talk sometimes in the limo or when we were waiting in a holding room while the security team secured a location. It was just idle chit-chat. I recall mentioning that you and Lisa were looking forward to jewelry shopping in the souk because you knew her meeting with President Bashir would drag on for hours. Next thing I hear, Lisa’s been arrested.”

  “But you told me Lisa had a record of shoplifting.”

  “She did. That’s what made the scheme possible. But I don’t believe she stole that chain. She was right; it was a set-up.”

  “That’s not what you said before.”

  “Maybe I didn’t want to believe it.”

  “So what do you believe now?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  “How could they have set it up so quickly?”

  “My guess is that Secretary Dayton saw the opportunity and told Schuyler. He has all kinds of commercial interests and contacts in the Arab world including Syria. The ambassador is always visiting him in his mansion—that guy with the huge mustache.”

  “That’s right, I saw him the one time I was there.”

  “So Schuyler could have called his buddy the ambassador and asked for a personal favor. And of course, the ambassador knew exactly who to contact in Damascus to set it up. He probably needed the approval of the President himself for this kind of operation.”

  “But what would the Syrians get out of it?”

  “They did Secretary Dayton a huge favor. Now she owes them one back. Who knows how and when they might collect.”

  They stopped and looked at each other.

  “They’re quite a pair aren’t they, Dayton and Schuyler?” Delphine said. “If your theory is correct, she decides who to dispose of and he arranges it.”

  Jason sighed deeply.

  Delphine said, “She’s going to become President, isn’t she?”

  “Anything can happen in a campaign but she’s starting from a strong position. And of course, if she can get an Arab-Israeli peace deal…”

  “Jason, we’ve got to stop her.”

  He gave a humorless snort.

  “I’m serious.”

  “You must be out of your mind. What can we do?”

  Chapter 17

  Delphine spent the next few days thinking fitfully about ways to derail Julia Dayton’s presidential bid. First, she considered compiling a dossier of misdeeds to send anonymously to the media. But she had no hard evidence to tie the Secretary directly to any of the deaths. Jason kept telling her to let it go. Dayton and Schuyler were probably the most powerful couple in the world. How could a humble reporter and a fired security guy possible go head-to-head with them?

  Delphine called Todd and arranged to have coffee with him. He showed up even more pumped with self-importance than usual and ordered a huge cup with four shots of espresso. “You’re going to be sorry you didn’t agree to work with me,” he said. “I can smell that Pulitzer. Number three is the charm. It’s what turns you from a merely outstanding journalist into a legend.”

  “You’re making progress?”

  “Let’s just say I tracked down an intimate acquaintance of our beloved Madam Secretary from her youth. We’re meeting next week.”

  “Todd, please be careful.”

  “I don’t want to hear your sour grapes. You had your chance to share the glory.”

  “This isn’t sour grapes. Believe me, I want you to succeed. I’ll come to see you get your prize and be the first to shake your hand. I’m just telling you to be cautious. Three of our colleagues are already dead.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything? Don had a heart attack and Eric and Stewart were killed in a car crash.”

  “And Allstott?”

  Todd looked at her pityingly. “I don’t know what to make of you any more, Delphine. Sometimes, you sound really paranoid and wacky. Have you considered getting professional help? And you’ve really let yourself go. I used to get a hard-on every time I saw you. Now, you look like crap. I say that as your friend.”

  “Thanks. Much appreciated.”

  The following evening, Delphine’s ‘intimate dinner’ with Dayton and Schuyler took place. She hadn’t been sure what to wear and finally settled on a white knitted cardigan with a satin collar and cuffs above a matching sleeveless blouse and black silk pants. Although it was a social occasion, Delphine wanted to appear at least somewhat businesslike to avoid too much familiarity.

  Schuyler himself opened the door and welcomed her into the house. “This way my dear,” he said. “Have you seen my art collection?”

  Delphine said she’d glimpsed it only briefly on her previous visit so Schuyler gave her a tour, expounding at length on each painting, noting where and when he had acquired it, how much he’d paid and how much it was worth now. Delphine’s eyes were beginning to glaze when the door opened and Secretary Dayton swept into the room.

  “Ah there you both are. Getting along famously I see. I knew you two would hit it off if you only had the chance.”

  Delphine guessed Dayton had deliberately delayed her entrance to allow her to have time alone with Schuyler and wondered yet again about the purpose of this unusual evening.

  “Shall we eat?” Schuyler said, leading the way into a vast dining room, at the center of which stood a large round table set for three. “You’ll enjoy this, Ms. Roget. “My personal chef is the renowned Paul LeBlanc. You’re familiar with him no doubt?”

  Delphine shook her head, no. Alas, the meal, when it arrived, was a grave disappointment—a watery beetroot soup with greasy croutons followed by underdone pork with fried potatoes and peas that tasted as though they had come straight out of a can. There was not much conversation, apart from “Pass the salt,” and “More bread?” Schuyler ate quickly and messily and Dayton raced to keep up. Delphine was content to leave most of the food on her plate. Afterwards, Chef LeBlanc, resplendent in his spotless white tunic and toque, presented himself to accept their thanks.

  “Paul, you have outdone yourself,” Secretary Dayton gushed.

  He inclined his head royally.

  “Where did you find those peas?” Delphine asked him in French.

  “Um, at the market.” She knew as soon as the chef opened his mouth that this was no Frenchman. What’s more, he knew she knew.

  After the meal, they retired to a small sitting room for coffee and brandy where they sat for some moments in uncomfortable silence.

  Secretary Dayton coughed softly. “Delphine dearest, I have … that is, Elton and I have a proposal we’d like you to consider. The fact is, as I told you in Jerusalem, I’ve become very fond of you.”

  Delphine waited. Schuyler fiddled with his tie pin. A priceless antique clock ticked. Finally Dayton resumed: “Hell, I’m not very good at this kind of thing so let me just say it. Delphine, I want a daughter and I think you need a mother. I’d like to make that happen.”

  Delphine thought she’d misheard. “Make what happen?”

  Seeing her incomprehension, Dayton hastened to explain. “I’d like to legally adopt you and become the mother you haven’t had for so long.”

  Realization began to dawn. The crazy woman was serious. “But … but I’m not a little child. As you see, I’m a grown woman. How can you adopt an adult?”

  Dayton laughed. “Adult adoptions do exist, my dear, more often than you might think. It’s a wonderful symbol of love and commitment. I had the subject investigated. It’s a simple process. If you agree, all we’d need to do is find a qualified judge. And later, after Elton and I are married and you’ve had the chance to get to know and love each other a little better, perhaps he could adopt you too. We’d become a real family.”

  Delphine was literally speechless.

  “Well
my dear, what do you say?”

  “But Madam Secretary … “

  “Julia.”

  “But Madam Secretary, I already was adopted once by my aunt and uncle.”

  Secretary Dayton frowned. “We obviously had you checked out before making this offer. Fortunately they too are no longer with us so that presents no problem. You see, my sweet, I know everything about you.”

  “So you know I was converted – that I’m Jewish.”

  “Not a problem. In fact, it could be an advantage. It might give me a new opportunity to connect with Jewish voters who are not my biggest supporters right now.”

  “But my job, my life, my future…?”

  “You could continue with your career if that’s what you wish but frankly there would be better options. We’d still write our book together – this will make it even more successful—and then, after you become an American citizen, I would look to you as a valued adviser, particular on media affairs.”

  Delphine saw with horror she would never be free of this woman. Julia Dayton intended wrapping her tight in a cocoon of her ‘love.’ And of course, creating a ‘family’ had clear political advantages for the forthcoming campaign. Maybe she wasn’t so crazy after all.

  “Think about it young lady,” Schuyler put in. “This is quite an opportunity.”

  Something about his smug tone enraged Delphine and she turned to face him. “Monsieur Schuyler, do you recall an incident some 20 years ago involving a French company you own, Bourbon et Orléans? A construction crane fell, killing a number of people.”

  He thought about it. “No. Should I?”

  “There was a lengthy court case. Your company fought hard to avoid paying compensation to the families of the victims. Your lawyers dragged the case out for years in the courts. In the end, you paid almost nothing.”

  He smiled happily. “That’s standard policy. It’s what I call the six D’s: delay, distract, defend, demoralize, defeat and destroy. I explain it in my book.”

  “But why? Did not the survivors have the right to compensation?”

  “In this world, we have the right only to whatever we can take and keep. That’s how the game’s played. Why are you so interested in this ancient case, may I ask? What has this to do with what we’re discussing?”