The Washington Sanction

by Mark Arundel

  McGrath nodded as if this news was expected. Another mouthful of dessert travelled carefully to his mouth.

  Rafferty waited.

  McGrath placed the spoon beside the dish, sipped his dessert wine and then dabbed the white cotton napkin to his lips.

  ‘I’ve spoken to the FBI Director and he’s tied up the legal end. He’s notified the White House and believes they’re sold on the Cuban theory, and that means it’s going to be buried,’ McGrath said. ‘Officially, it’s over. Karen Brekke may continue to work on it but that’s just for the White House. They may still be interested in her findings. The case, though, is closed.’

  ‘Do you have objections?’ Rafferty said.

  McGrath sipped more wine.

  ‘I’d like to see her,’ he said.

  Rafferty nodded.

  Francesca brought the coffee as usual.

  After one cup, Rafferty left.

  50 January 3, 1964, Los Angeles, California

  They met in the same place as before.

  Normally, Marik Kasseri would have chosen somewhere different. It was always sensible to vary meeting places, but he enjoyed the view so much that he wanted to see it again.

  This time, she wasn’t late.

  He walked over and opened the car door, leant in and smiled.

  ‘Hello, Natalie, how are you?’

  He stepped back to let her out. While he waited, he checked on the view. The smog wasn’t going to lift. The murky haze covered everything. It hid the flat valley and the bright, thickly scattered buildings and the distant mountains. No, he would not see the view today.

  They walked to his car and sat inside. The doors clunked shut and the stale air smelled of a pine fragranced air freshener and cigarettes.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘I met him and we stayed one night at his apartment. I tried the combinations you gave me but the safe wouldn’t open,’ she answered, speaking in bad Russian.

  There was silence.

  This answer was not what Kasseri wanted to hear.

  ‘I will get you new combinations. You can try again,’ he told her.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ he asked.

  She paused and held his gaze.

  ‘He doesn’t want to see me again. We had an argument and it’s over between us,’ she said.

  She was convincing; a good actress, and anyway it wasn’t really a lie.

  Kasseri watched her.

  His mind worked, and his fingers ran along the ridges of his scar.

  ‘Call him,’ he said. ‘Tell him you are sorry. Ask him to forgive you and tell him you want to try again; tell him you will do anything he wants, anything to make it up to him. Convince him; you’re a beautiful young movie star, you can make men do whatever you want.’

  Natalie shook her head.

  ‘He’s different,’ she said. ‘It won’t do any good. He’s not going to change his mind. It’s over between us. I’m sorry; I’ve tried my best but now I can’t help you anymore.’

  Natalie had rehearsed what she intended to say. She had prepared for her performance with the same care she took over her movies.

  Kasseri’s face turned away and he stared out at the grey, fog-bound horizon. It was difficult to distinguish between the sky and the land.

  He spoke without turning back.

  ‘Do you remember what I told you would happen if you didn’t do what I wanted?’ he asked.

  Natalie fought a moment of fear. She mustn’t be scared. Kasseri’s voice was slow, deep and growly. She remembered what Rafferty had told her. It was just a threat.

  ‘You will try again,’ he said.

  Natalie remained strong.

  ‘I can’t,’ she answered. ‘There’s no point.’

  ‘Why?’ he snapped, turning his face back to her. ‘Have you told me everything?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘If you’re lying to me and I find out…’

  ‘I’m not lying to you…’

  ‘You are lying and I will find out, then you know what I will do. Now tell me the truth. Tell me the truth,’ he repeated. ‘Now,’ he shouted.

  His voice boomed and his aggressive physique filled the car’s interior like a bear in a cage.

  Natalie was struggling. Her fear came and she fought it, but like the Russian Steppes, some things are impossible to conquer. He grasped her upper arms and her whole body obeyed his strength. He shook her like a child. His menacing face, twice the size of hers, scowled at her. Natalie thought of a vampire about to suck her blood. She screamed and he shook her again.

  ‘Tell me,’ he shouted. ‘Tell me what really happened. Tell me…’

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  She had broken. Her resolve was gone.

  ‘I did get the safe open but he caught me,’ she said with her eyes close to tears.

  Kasseri lessened his grip.

  There was stillness while he considered.

  ‘So, he caught you with his safe open,’ he said.

  She nodded.

  Kasseri cursed.

  She was useless to him now. He released her and moved away. He gazed outside but his eyes didn’t focus. Moments passed before he spoke again.

  ‘What was in the safe?’ he asked.

  ‘Money, legal documents…’

  ‘Yes, what else?’

  ‘Papers, a file…’

  ‘Was it about Vietnam?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Kasseri was interested. He suddenly turned on her.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ he said.

  His voice was suddenly soft.

  Natalie sniffed and rubbed her nose.

  ‘There was a map of the coastline and the South China Sea and there were pictures of boats,’ she said.

  ‘What else?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see.’

  Kasseri didn’t know if it was important or not.

  ‘Did you read anything?’

  ‘No, I didn’t have any time…’

  Kasseri cut in.

  ‘Did it look like a plan for something, like a military operation?’ he asked.

  Natalie thought.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said, ‘but I don’t really know.’

  ‘What did he say when he caught you?’ Kasseri asked.

  Natalie paused as she remembered that horrible feeling in her stomach.

  ‘He told me not to tell you. He said I had to be strong and to stand up to you,’ she answered. ‘He said you might kill me if you found out he knew.’

  Kasseri made a strange noise like a growling bear.

  Natalie looked at him and realised he was laughing.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’re much too valuable,’ he said. ‘You can help me in other ways.’

  He tried to sound comforting.

  It didn’t work.

  Natalie felt his hands on her body and she closed her eyes.

  51 January 5, 1964, Long Island, New York

  They went out through the side door of the east wing.

  It took them onto a stone pathway that wandered through a walled garden towards a large mulberry bush and a tall fir tree at the end. The smell of salt water from The Sound carried to them on the chilly breeze.

  Rafferty watched the two dogs. Bonnie, the liver and white Springer spaniel, appeared to have turned crazy with excitement. She vacuumed the ground with her muzzle, searching for the scent of anything that might be worth hunting while her tail wagged vigorously. Clyde, the jet-black Labrador, was considerably more reserved about proceedings and ignored his partner with an air of disapproval.

  Karen Brekke was enjoying the two dogs. She pointed at Bonnie’s antics with amusement and laughter. The energetic spaniel led the way as the walking party ambled beyond the gardens and onto the sandy grassland.

  The weather for their morning stroll was fair with billowing white clouds and sharp sunlight that bounced off the rippling surface of the water like a s
pinning chandelier.

  ‘Dutchman’s trousers,’ Rafferty said, looking up at the sky.

  Karen turned her head. ‘What?’ she said and then looked up at the sky.

  ‘It’s an old English saying which means there’s some blue sky,’ he said, beginning his explanation.

  Karen continued to gaze at the sky.

  ‘Enough to make a pair of trousers for a Dutchman,’ Rafferty said, continuing. ‘Apparently Dutchmen used to wear blue trousers, or so the English thought.’

  Karen just stared at him.

  ‘Do you know what trousers are?’ Rafferty asked.

  ‘Yeah, they’re English pants,’ she said. ‘How do you know something like that?’

  ‘An Englishman, in Italy during the war, told it to me and I’ve always remembered it. Good isn’t it.’

  Rafferty grinned at her.

  Karen just shook her head and laughed.

  The breeze turned to the south-east, opened its arms and welcomed them with a kind embrace. Its brother, from the north, that blows in across the water was considerably less sociable. Today they were favoured with the nicer of the two.

  The Long Island Sound rolled onto the sandy shoreline and splashed white with a soothing, gentle murmur.

  At the water’s edge, they turned north.

  Bonnie was already far ahead, except she had run south chasing sea birds that fed in the surf. On realising her mistake, the spaniel brought up her head, made a few erratic body adjustments, across, down, across again, and then raced back up the beach, flying by Clyde and Karen who both looked; Clyde with embarrassment and Karen with delight.

  Rafferty bent down and picked up a flat wet stone. He felt the weight and gripped it with his forefinger along the edge. Dipping and turning his body at the waist, he threw the stone with controlled strength into the surf. It skimmed and skipped before disappearing beneath the waves. Richard Tobias watched and it made him think of baseball and the pitcher’s arm.

  Karen had found a stick and was waving it in the air and laughing. Both dogs were staring intently, eagerly anticipating a chase. Bonnie was jumping up and down with excitement and Clyde remained calm, poised and ready. Karen threw the stick as far as she could. It spun through the air with both dogs chasing. Bonnie reached it first but Clyde pushed her out of the way and picked it up triumphantly. Bonnie feigned indifference and headed off pretending to search for something else. Clyde carried the stick for a few seconds and then dropped it. Bonnie was suddenly interested again. She raced over and picked it up. Her soft mouth held the stick gently. Then proudly, she returned it to Karen and dropped it at her feet. Karen clapped with surprise and delight.

  They reached the narrow roadway, which turned along the coastline and ran north to the point. Richard led them away from the sandy beach and up onto the road. He was fit and agile for a man in his seventies; lean with a steady stride and focused eyes. Franco de Napoli walked behind him breathing heavily as they climbed. Isabella brought up the rear with Maria de Napoli and the slow Clyde. She watched her husband leave the beach and take the easier route onto the road. Bonnie was not really taking any route at all. She was chasing all over as though urgently searching for something of great importance. Karen watched her with a smile. Bonnie suddenly sped off ahead of Franco and Richard, and Karen quickened her stride. She came up with the two elderly men and Rafferty dropped back to talk with Isabella and Maria.

  Richard and Franco greeted her as she appeared beside them.

  ‘Are you enjoying the walk?’ Franco asked. He was slightly out of breath.

  ‘Yeah, sure, I really like Bonnie; she’s great fun to watch,’ Karen said.

  ‘The dogs are Isabella’s,’ Richard said. ‘I never had dogs before I was married.’

  ‘When did you and Isabella marry?’ Karen asked. Richard thought for a moment.

  ‘Nineteen forty,’ he said. ‘I remember because it was the year young Rafferty joined the army.’

  Clyde trotted faithfully beside Isabella and Maria. Rafferty had slowed enough for them to catch him up.

  Isabella smiled at him and hugged his arm.

  ‘I like Karen, she’s friendly and so pretty,’ she said. ‘Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Yeah sure,’ he said.

  ‘So, tell me, what happened with Natalie?’ Isabella said. This was her first opportunity to ask.

  Rafferty had been expecting it.

  ‘I won’t be seeing Natalie again,’ he said, breaking the bad news.

  Isabella was disappointed but not surprised.

  ‘Actresses don’t make good wives,’ she declared, indicating her acceptance of the situation. ‘However, pretty Scandinavians…’ she said, without a great deal of subtlety.

  Rafferty didn’t reply.

  Richard, Franco and Karen were nearing the end of the road, which had begun to turn and join with the main village road.

  ‘Shall we head back home or carry on to the point?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Are you tired?’ Karen asked Franco.

  Franco looked hurt. He frowned with displeasure at the very suggestion.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can walk as far as any man my age.’

  ‘We should continue then,’ Karen said. ‘What’s at the point?’

  ‘The old lighthouse,’ Richard said.

  They walked farther, beyond the road, heading north, back onto the sand. Bonnie approved of Karen’s decision and shot off in front with her pink tongue lolling from the side of her panting mouth.

  Isabella also approved. Her husband needed exercising, just like the dogs.

  ‘Oh good,’ she said, ‘Richard is carrying on to the lighthouse. Come on, let’s catch them up.’

  They quickened their stride.

  ‘Clyde,’ she called, beckoning the old Labrador, who trotted out from the verge, looked at his mistress and without fuss fell in loyally by her side.

  Franco stepped down first, back onto the beach. He had gone ahead as a show of his energy and vigour. Karen noticed his laboured breathing and thought he should slow down.

  The waves crashed against the sloping stones, throwing spray and white surf high into the blustery air like spittle from the nostrils of a raging bull. The boulders and stone blocks defended the point against the power of the sea. Karen spotted the old lighthouse and they walked towards it with Bonnie still leading the way.

  Karen glanced sideways at Richard.

  ‘Has young Rafferty had many girlfriends?’ she asked.

  Richard smiled and then paused for a moment while he thought.

  ‘Not many that I know of, but then I haven’t always seen that much of him over the past twenty years,’ he said. ‘He didn’t always visit as often as he does now.’

  ‘Has there ever been anyone special?’ she asked. ‘Someone he might have perhaps married?’

  Karen’s eyes remained on Richard. She wanted to hear his answer.

  He turned to her.

  ‘There was someone,’ he said, ‘someone that Isabella thought she knew about.’

  ‘Oh, who was that?’ Karen asked.

  Richard smiled as he remembered.

  ‘Daft really,’ he said, ‘but for a while, Isabella was convinced he was having a secret affair with that famous Hollywood movie star…’

  ‘...movie star, which one?’

  ‘Oh, you know, she’s dead now, the one with the blonde hair...’

  Just then, before Richard could finish his sentence and remember the name, Isabella, Maria, Rafferty and Clyde joined them. Neither Karen nor Richard had heard them approaching. They both turned, surprised by their sudden appearance.

  ‘Hello,’ Richard said, greeting them. ‘I thought we’d show Karen the old lighthouse before we go back.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Isabella agreed. ‘Clyde,’ she called and then searched. ‘Where’s Bonnie?’ she said.

  Karen pointed down the beach. Fifty yards away, in among the stones and rocks, they could see flashes of the liver and white spaniel.
r />   They carried on walking until they reached the foot of the boulders. They stood and stared at the lighthouse and the buildings alongside. The lighthouse construction was from freestone blocks and was weathered brown by the past one hundred and fifty years like the face of an old sailor. It stood tall and purposeful, lonesome and intriguing like a building from an old mystery novel.

  ‘Who wants a hot drink?’ Richard asked, making a tempting offer. He had decided it was time to head home.

  ‘Yes, it’s time to go back,’ agreed Franco, pleased it had been Richard who had given up first.

  On the walk home, along the village road, Karen was deep in thought. She was remembering what Richard had told her and she was thinking about Rafferty’s mystery girlfriend.

  She and Rafferty walked slowly together and fell back from the others.

  ‘Have you ever been to Florida?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, lots of orange juice, is that the place?’ Rafferty said.

  ‘Anna Maria Island?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’ve never been there.’

  ‘My parents retired there,’ she said. ‘However, they still like to visit New York sometimes. So every now and then, we swap. They come and live in my apartment and I go and live in their beach house. They get noise, traffic and shopping and I get a free vacation in the sunshine state.’

  ‘Sounds like a good deal,’ he said.

  ‘I’m going tomorrow,’ Karen told him. ‘Do you want to come with me?’

  She smiled.

  Rafferty held her gaze.

  ‘How long are you going for?’ he asked.

  ‘One week,’ she said.

  ‘I can only stay for three days,’ he told her.

  ‘I know,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll have to stop in Washington on the way,’ he said.

  She didn’t ask why.

  ‘Don’t forget to pack your swimming trunks,’ she said.

  52 January 6, 1964, Washington D.C.

  They took a cab from Dulles. The wipers dried their familiar arc and the wheels splashed through the puddles.

  Outside the restaurant, Karen admired the elegant blue awning that extended over the shiny glass and glossy paintwork and then read the square brass nameplate.