by Alan Elsner
“I’d hoped that you would but, of course, you’re a grown woman. I’ll be living out in Maryland with Elton. The place has so many rooms we could give you an entire wing. You’ll have all the privacy you need.”
“What about my name? Tell me I can keep my own name.”
“I know this will be a big change for you, for both of us. We’ll take it as slow as you like. But you should start thinking about other jobs. You won’t be able to continue covering the State Department. Have you told your bosses yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Well I’ll leave you to handle all that. And now I need to brief you about the talks. I made notes for you every evening so you’d have all the details for the book.” Dayton handed Delphine a folder. “We had some dramatic scenes. One time, Shoresh choked on a peanut. I should have expected it; every day he’d sit stuffing them down his throat by the fistful. No wonder he’s so fat. His face turned as red as a tomato and he slumped over, gasping like a fish out of water. Fortunately, one of the Palestinians knew the Heimlich maneuver. He bounded across the table and started squeezing. That was a turning point. A Palestinian saved the life of the Israeli leader. After that, they started trusting each other more. At the next meeting, both sides made significant compromises. That was when I knew we were on the right track. But it still took a very long late-night meeting with the three of us to clinch it.”
They went on for an hour and Delphine left with a full notebook—and a heart full of dread.
Chapter 18
Delphine arrived home from the State Department, determined to try one last time to persuade Jason to help her interview the truck driver Buck Cooter.
“What makes you think he’s living there? He’s probably long gone by now,” Jason objected.
“The police ordered him to stick around until they finished their investigation. He could still face reckless driving charges. If he tried to run, he’d be in much bigger trouble and people might get suspicious.”
“Why are you still chasing this? I thought you’d dropped the idea.”
“I just haven’t had time to do anything about it lately. But I have time now and I have to act. There’s something I haven’t told you.
“There’s a surprise. What is it? Spit it out.”
Delphine hesitated but then decided she had nothing to lose. She had to get Jason on her side. It was the only hope. “Secretary Dayton plans to adopt me as her daughter.”
Jason’s face betrayed total astonishment. “What? Run that by me again.”
“You heard right. She wants to acquire a daughter off the shelf. I’m it.”
He stood up, laughing. “Nice one. You really had me fooled for a moment.”
But Delphine’s grim expression told him this was no joke.
“Are you serious? When did this happen?” Jason’s face had gone white.
“That night they had me over for dinner to the mansion.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I guess I hoped the whole thing would go away if I ignored it. But it won’t. She’s scheduled a ceremony at the D.C. courthouse in a couple of weeks. Now do you see why you have to get hold of Craig’s FBI badge so we can interview Cooter? It’s my absolute last hope.”
Jason sat down and took Delphine’s hand. “Maybe she really loves you like a daughter.”
“Don’t be stupid. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word. She wants to own me, totally and absolutely; that way she controls me.”
“So why did you agree?
“I was too scared not to. And it gets worse. Schuyler wants to be my daddy, after they get married.” Despite her efforts, Delphine started weeping softly. “Help me Jason. For God’s sake, you have to help me.”
“OK, you’ve convinced me we have to do something. Let me think about it.”
They went to bed but none of his efforts to comfort her had any effect. Next morning, after Jason left, Delphine called Todd again, desperate for a shred of hope. The jaws of the trap were closing around her.
“Can’t talk right now,” he said.
“What about later?”
“Sure, drop by my place this evening, say around nine.” He gave her an address in a quiet street near the Capitol.
Jason returned to Delphine’s apartment in the early afternoon carrying a video camera. “I’m probably crazy but I’ve decided to give this nutty idea of yours a shot,” he said. “Let’s get going before I change my mind.”
Delphine embraced him fiercely. “Thank you. I won’t forget it.”
“So you’ll visit me in jail?”
“It won’t come to that. Do you have the ID?”
He pulled a leather wallet out of his jacket and flipped it open. One side held a brass badge bearing the words, ‘Federal Bureau of Investigation, Department of Justice’ topped by the figure of an eagle with outstretched wings. The other side contained an identification card and photo.
“Craig’s just come off the overnight shift. He’s dead to the world. With any luck, he won’t miss it for the next few hours,” he said.
“Why the camera?”
“If Cooter talks, which I still highly doubt, we’ll need proof of what he says. Can you operate one of these things?”
Delphine examined it. “Seems pretty simple. But is this is good idea? It might spook him.”
“I won’t suggest using it unless and until we’ve gained his confidence. We’ll leave it in the car. I just wanted to have it available in case he agrees,” Jason said.
“Do you know what you’re going to say?”
“I’ll suggest we already know everything; threaten him with life in prison or the death penalty if he doesn’t cooperate and offer him immunity if he talks.”
It took about an hour to reach the mobile home park which was located a few miles off the main highway in a valley surrounded by rolling wooded hills. It consisted of a few dozen trailers laid out in neat rows. Many of the dwellings seemed well-maintained, surrounded by neat little gardens, but Cooter’s, when they eventually found it, had a seedy, abandoned look with two rusted cars standing on blocks outside. A garbage bin overflowed with empty beer bottles and cans and the building was surrounded by overgrown weeds.
“You do the talking,” Delphine said. “I don’t want him hearing my accent. I’ll just stand in the corner and look grim.”
“Right,” said Jason, without a trace of irony.
They approached the front door and knocked. A dog barked frantically from one of the neighboring trailers but no one answered.
“We’ll wait,” Delphine said, swallowing her disappointment.
They returned to the car, drove a few yards down the road and pulled over. Delphine opened all the windows and turned off the engine.
“How long do you want to give it?” Jason asked. A radio started up in a trailer playing country music, something about a man whose dog left him.
“As long as it takes.”
They lapsed into silence. A fat woman wearing blue tights and a low cut blouse, her upper body covered in tattoos, waddled down the path to visit a neighbor; half an hour later she shuffled back again. Apart from that, nothing stirred.
“Jason, when you get nervous, how do you react physically?” Delphine asked, just to break the silence.
“The usual I guess – butterflies, shaky hands, loose bowels if it’s really serious.”
“Have you ever heard music in your head?”
“What?” Delphine explained about Mission Impossible.
“Do you hear it now?”
“I did when you knocked on the door. It’s gone away now.”
“Weird. It would drive me crazy.”
“I guess I’ve learned to live with it, not that I have a choice.”
Night fell slowly; the lights went off one by one, the darkness barely relieved by
flitting fireflies and a diamond-studded sky. Delphine heard an owl hoot; cicadas hissed like mechanical saws. Jason’s face beside her was indistinct; She reached out to stroke his cheek and felt his muscles contract. Without air conditioning, they were both sweating, having dressed in suits to look the part of FBI agents.
“I told you he wouldn’t be here,” Jason said.
“Be patient.”
At around nine thirty, there was a commotion as two pickup trucks barreled through the gates. They squealed to a halt outside Cooter’s trailer; several people tumbled out, laughing, joking and cursing. Two men rolled a beer keg down the overgrown path to the front door. Another vomited noisily by the side of the road. A couple was feeling each other up, giggling hysterically. The woman slapped the man ineffectively; he slapped her right back. A minute later, several motorbikes roared down the road, their lights knifing through the darkness. Heavy metal blared from inside the trailer. A neighbor stuck his head out and shouted for them to “shut the fuck up” but they just cursed right back and the party got even more raucous.
“This is no good. We’ve got to get him alone. Anyway, I have to return Craig’s badge. He’s due on again at midnight.” Jason muttered. Delphine started up the engine and they slipped away feeling foolish and defeated.
“Can we come back tomorrow? At least now we know he’s here and he doesn’t seem too remorseful about the deaths he caused,” Delphine said.
“I believe Craig’s working tomorrow.”
“When then?”
“Depends when I can get hold of his badge again.”
As they reached Washington, Delphine remembered she’d promised to drop by Todd’s place. It was already ten thirty but she didn’t figure him as an early to bed type.
“It shouldn’t take long. He lives on Capitol Hill,” she said.
But when they tried to turn into his street, they found it blocked by two police cars with beacon lights flashing. Immediately, Delphine knew something terrible had happened. The music was blaring in her head and her mouth had a sick, metallic taste.
Jason said, “Let me out. I’ll go see what’s up.”
“No need,” Delphine said.
“What…”
“It’s over. He’s dead. Take it from me.” She gripped the wheel to prevent her hands from shaking.
“Here, pull over, you can’t drive like this.”
Delphine allowed the car to drift to the side of the road and bent over the steering wheel, her body heaving. Jason leaned over and turned the ignition off. She felt his hand stroking her back, but she could not be comforted.
“Of all the stupid, fat, idiotic, egotistical, screwed up…”
“Delphine, whatever happened, this not your fault.”
She sat up and pounded the wheel with both hands. “I warned him and warned him again and again but the stupid …” She choked, unable to continue.
“We don’t actually know anything yet,” Jason said, the voice of reason.
“Don’t we?” Delphine’s anger faded as she realized she’d never see Todd’s smug face or listen to him bragging about his Pulitzer Prizes ever again.
“Let me go back and ask,” Jason said.
Delphine started the engine and pulled back out in the traffic. “There isn’t time. You have to return Craig’s badge. We’ll read about it in tomorrow’s paper. It will be Todd’s final story.”
The lead in all the papers next morning was that the Israeli parliament had approved the peace deal by a comfortable majority. A few hours later, the Palestinian Legislative Council followed suit. Secretary Dayton issued a statement announcing that the treaty would be signed at the White House the following Thursday. By coincidence, it was the same day she’d chosen for Delphine’s adoption hearing which would now presumably have to be postponed.
Todd’s murder was relegated to the Metro Section of his own newspaper which would have driven him crazy if he could have seen it. Delphine imagined him knocking on the editor’s door from the afterlife, pleading for a spot on the front page. There was a picture of him holding up one of his Pulitzer medals, grinning manically. A brief article provided few details. Police said they were investigating; editors and colleagues expressed the usual distress and grief. Et cetera, et cetera.
Delphine shoved the paper in front of Jason’s shocked face. “Now do you see? Now do you see what I’m talking about?”
“Let me make a call. I’ve got some buddies on the police force. Maybe I can find out what happened”
“How can you be so calm? Don’t you understand what’s happening here? She’ll kill me too, you’ll see. Maybe a terrible accident two days before the New Hampshire Primary or some time when she needs a sympathy vote. She intends to lock me up in Schuyler’s dreadful mansion surrounded by a high fence where I’ll be alone and defenseless. Think about it: a French daughter isn’t all that much use to her. But a tragically deceased French daughter – that’s political gold. I’m as good as dead.”
“OK, love, calm down, calm down. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“Don’t you get it? You won’t be around? She wants me living with her.”
“So refuse.”
“How? I’ll be her daughter. I’ll have to love and obey her. I can see the whole scenario. She’ll send someone for me one night when I’m asleep and … Oh God.”
“No, that’s not going to happen. I’m going to get Craig’s FBI badge for another shot at Cooter. And if that fails, we’ll figure out something else.”
Jason learned from one of his police buddies that Todd had died by suffocation due to a crushed trachea, probably caused by a sharp blow to the throat. The assailant had left no prints. It was easy to figure out what had happened. Todd had opened his door to the person he’d been expecting. He thought he was about to interview a youthful acquaintance of Secretary Dayton but his guest turned out to be a professional hit man.
The weekend passed with no opportunity to borrow Craig’s credentials. On Sunday, Dayton sent a hand-written note saying the adoption would go ahead with only a three-hour delay, at six on Thursday evening instead of at three.
“Once the peace treaty is signed, my work will be done. By mid-afternoon, all the dignitaries will be hurrying to leave town. It’s the perfect day to do it. The media’s attention will obviously be elsewhere so we can be assured of our privacy,” she wrote. “I can hardly wait for the most important—and happiest—day of my life.”
Jason said his brother was working very long hours. Probably he was involved in the massive security operation for all the dignitaries arriving in town to attend the peace signing ceremony. Shoresh and al-Bakr were both on their way and a dozen other prime ministers and heads of state had already arrived.
Delphine knew she had three days in which to make something happen.
Chapter 19
On Tuesday, Craig returned home from a double shift, ate a late lunch and fell gratefully into bed, asking not to be disturbed until early the following morning when he had to be back on duty. Delphine was in the bureau at the time working on yet another news analysis. It was weird carrying on with business as usual but she didn’t know what else to do. With all her troubles, it was comforting falling back on routine. She still had not informed Jean-Luc about her impending adoption.
Jason called as soon as he got hold of his brother’s wallet and Delphine rushed home to change into her ‘FBI outfit’ – navy blazer, dark green top, black skirt, pantyhose and her Børn slip-ons. An hour later, they were driving northward. After a week of unremitting heat and humidity, the forecast was for early evening thunderstorms, possibly violent. Already, the air felt heavy; sickly greenish black clouds gathered overhead. It would become unnaturally still just before the storm broke: then a fierce wind would whip up and the sky would explode. But that was still a couple of hours ahead as they arrived at the mobile home park.
The two junk cars that had been parked outside Cooter’s place had disappeared, replaced by a brand new red Ford Explorer still carrying the dealer’s temporary plates. The rest of the garbage was still strewn around. Wasting no time, Jason bounded up to the door and knocked. Nothing stirred. He knocked again.
“That you Hank? Gimme a coupla hours for chrissakes. I gotta fuckin’ sleep after last night,” came a sleepy voice from the interior.
“FBI. Open up,” Jason barked.
They heard sounds of movement; then the door jerked open to reveal a skinny man not much taller than Delphine wearing baggy striped boxers and a stained white T-shirt.
“Who the fuck did you say you were?” His eyes were red and he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. Even from two yards away, Delphine could smell stale beer on his breath.
“Special Agent Craig King, Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Jason snapped, thrusting his badge in front of Cooter’s face, then whisking it away into his inside jacket pocket, making sure Cooter got a good look at the handle of his weapon nestled in its underarm holster.
“FBI?” Cooter seemed nonplussed, his lips pressed together tight, the corners of his mouth turned downward. A hand fluttered up to smooth down the thinning hair on the back of his head while his eyes flickered from side to side.
“Step inside Mr. Cooter. We need a few minutes of your time.”
Obediently, Cooter turned and retreated, revealing a small but vivid red and black tattoo of a heart with two swords thrust through it on the back of his scrawny neck. Jason and Delphine followed him into a living room dominated by a massive TV screen which almost entirely covered one wall. A large cardboard box lay open in the middle of the floor; white styrofoam eggs spilled across a threadbare brown carpet. The place smelled of dogs, fast-food and cigarettes. A noisy air conditioning unit wheezed and rattled like an emphysema patient.
“What the fuck do you want?” he asked dourly. Delphine put him at about 45. He had two prominent gaps in his yellowing teeth, the result of inadequate or non-existent dental care.