“Inter-agency? Who the hell are you guys with?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Farrell said. “Let’s just say it’s a group that you don’t want to fuck with.”
“What you’re asking for is classified information,” Leggett said. “I’m not going to betray my country. You want to find out more, go through the proper channels.”
Leggett had a little more sand than Reilly had figured. He lashed a heavy boot into the spy’s kneecap. Leggett screamed in pain and went down on one knee in the mud, then struggled awkwardly back to his feet.
“Hey, let’s be reasonable,” Leggett said.
“Do I look fucking reasonable to you?” Reilly said.
“And remember Chip,” Farrell said. “He’s the good guy. If it were up to me, I’d just start taking pieces off your body until you start to talk. Everyone does, eventually.” Turning to Reilly, he said, “You want me to get the toolkit out of the van?”
“I think we’re going to need it. Now that Chip has gotten over pissing himself, he thinks he’s tough.”
Farrell smiled and said, “I love this kind of shit.” Then he started for the side door of the van.
“No, wait,” Leggett said. He weighed his options. He might be able to take the older guy, but not the giant. He was a dedicated agent, but not to the point of giving up body parts. What would be the harm if he told them a little bit? The girl was dead and there was no way they had a clue as to the real story.
“The girl was a Chinese agent. I doubled her,” he said, making himself sound like a player. “Strictly a low-level asset. In the end, she had no valuable intel. I have no idea how she died. Ask the Chinese, that’s my advice. That’s all I know.”
Reilly and Farrell looked at each other, then Farrell nodded. What Leggett had told them was likely true. If there was more, it would require the actual removal of body parts. At least it was something he could take back to Suzy, Reilly thought.
He smiled at Leggett and said, “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it Chip? I knew you would be the kind of guy who would co-operate.”
Leggett brushed water off his suit jacket, in a vain attempt to restore a fraction of his dignity. “All right then. Now what?”
“Now we move to part two of our agenda,” Reilly said.
“Part two? Look, I’ve told you everything I know.”
“I seriously doubt that Chip, but we’re going to take you at your word. Now, part two, that’s where we’ve got a problem.”
“A really big problem,” Farrell said.
“Come on guys, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Just let us go, that’s the last you’ll hear from us.”
“See, what I’d like to do,” Farrell said, “is to take you two assholes for a little walk in the woods. We all walk in, you don’t walk out. That’s the only way we never hear from you again. Somebody ends up in body bags. Just not us.”
Chip looked to Reilly, then said, “No, you don’t want to do that. Eventually they will find our bodies. The U.S. government will never let up until the thing is solved.”
“That’s not really a worry,” Reilly said. “Where I am thinking of putting you, years could go by before they find your decomposed remains. They find your vehicle in that parking garage, then the trail goes cold.”
“Chip wants to play hard ball,” Farrell said. “Maybe we need to get Don out here, see what he has to say.”
“Good idea,” Reilly said, nodding. “It’s not really fair for Chip to sign Don’s death warrant.”
“Agent Platt is a veteran, tough as nails. You won’t break him.”
“You could be right Chip, but are you sure he would be willing to give up his life for you?”
Leggett didn’t respond to that, but in his own mind, he knew Platt would sell him out in a New York minute.
“Let’s see what Platt has to say,” Reilly said.
Farrell opened the back of the van, unhooked Platt, then pulled his hands up behind his back and reattached the cuffs.
“Don,” Reilly said, like they were old pals. “Sorry about the nose. Chip here was just telling us that Mae Wang was a CIA double agent. Very interesting. Anything you can add there?”
Platt looked at Leggett with loathing. He knew that frat boy would fold as soon as someone said boo. The guy had pissed himself, for God’s sake. Whoever these two were, they were going to get nothing from him. To make the point, Platt directed a stream of spit and blood that landed on the big one’s shoes.
“Ah, now you’ve gone and pissed off my friend,” Reilly said. “I’ve seen him pissed off before, Don. I think you’d better lick that mess off his shoes before this turns ugly.”
“Fuck you.”
Reilly pulled a collapsible baton from his rear pocket, extended it and hit Don a stinging blow. It drove him down face forward into the mud in front of Farrell’s feet.
“Let me help you Don,” Farrell said, and drove his boot into Don’s mouth.
Reilly came up behind Don and dragged him back to his feet. “I hope we’ve got your attention now, tough guy. See, the other thing we wanted to bring up with Chip here was about some damage one or both of you did to a female reporter from the Ottawa Citizen, woman called Suzy Morin. This lady has a lot of friends and some of them asked us to take it up with you.”
Platt spit two teeth on the ground and said nothing, but Leggett spoke up in a high, agitated voice. “Look, we know nothing about any reporter. You’ve got that wrong.”
“Really? I noticed that your hands were all bruised and cut, Chip. What happened there?”
“I told you to leave her alone, you stupid fuck,” Platt said. “This is why we’re here. It’s got nothing to do with the dead Chinese girl. You two are cops, aren’t you?”
“If we were cops, we’d be arresting you,” Reilly said.
“Oh no, wait,” Farrell said. “These two are diplomats. They have immunity.”
“You’re right. Fellows like Chip and Don deserve special treatment. As it turns out, I’ve got an idea for that.”
In fact, it was an idea that had just come to Reilly, but he liked it. “Originally, I was thinking that maybe I’d beat you two as badly as you did the reporter, but the weakness of that plan is that you’d get over it in time. I’m thinking now we need something more permanent.”
Farrell looked at Reilly curiously. This was a twist they hadn’t discussed.
“Take your clothes off, Chip.”
“My clothes? What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. How do you think that reporter felt, being left naked like that? Hard to imagine, isn’t it? Good news is, you won’t have to imagine it, because it’s going to happen to you.”
“No, I won’t do it.”
Reilly took the tactical gloves from his jacket pocket and pulled them on. “Oh you will, Chip. It’s just a question of how much encouragement you’re going to need. Personally, I would be happy to persuade you.”
Leggett looked at Platt, as if there might be some help there. His colleague turned his bruised and battered face the other way.
Leggett shrugged, having identified the path of least resistance. He began to take off his soggy clothes and was quickly down to his boxers, his belly hanging over them, his skin turning pink from the cold rain.
“Keep going Chip, almost there,” Reilly said.
Reluctantly, Leggett peeled down the sodden white boxers.
“Whoa, I don’t know if I’ve seen one that small before,” Farrell said. “I thought you CIA boys were big swinging dicks. That’s barely a cocktail sausage, man. What do you think, buddy? Is it shrinkage or is Chip just unlucky?”
“Definitely unlucky. This really isn’t his day. But here’s the good news, Chip. We’re going to let you live. I just need to get a few pictures so we can all remember this moment, down the line.”
Reilly pulled his phone from one of the pockets in his cargo pants, then snapped a few shots of the naked and demoralized Chi
p, including a couple that included Platt.
“If this showed up online, I don’t suppose it would do much for your career, would it Chip?”
Chip hung his head and didn’t reply.
“All right, then. We’ve got better things to do, so we’re going to have to leave you boys now.” Gesturing to Farrell, Reilly said, “Get their phones, would you? Oh, and Chip’s clothes, too.”
Farrell gathered up the phones and clothes, then released Platt from the handcuffs. The agent clenched his fists, then relaxed them, wisely deciding that trying to take on Farrell was a losing play.
“Now, it’s going to be a bit of a hike for you boys to get back to the embassy. Maybe you can hitchhike, although Chip, I think that’s going to be a challenge. Maybe Don can lend you some pants. Just hang a right at the end of this little lane here, it will take you to a main road.”
Reilly fixed them both with his fiercest stare. “I hope I’ve made myself clear here. I don’t want to see or hear about either of you again, because if I do, I won’t be as friendly next time.”
Leggett nodded. Platt just stared at the mud in front of him.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Reilly flexed his hands and breathed deeply, trying to get his heart rate down. He had really wanted to spend a little more quality time with Chip, square up what he had done with Suzy, but he knew what happened once the red rage took over. Chip didn’t know it, but it actually was his lucky day.
“You worried about the van being identified?” he asked Farrell.
“No. The plates aren’t mine. The truck itself is going to be burned out down a deserted road within the hour.”
“Excellent.”
FORTY-SIX
Finishing the draft of the Champagne story had taken a bit longer than I thought. By the time I got to court, the afternoon session had already begun. I took off my shoes to empty the water out of them, then shook off my umbrella before opening the door at the rear of the court as quietly as I could and slipping into a seat in the back row. With my luck, Bernstein had momentarily paused and was shuffling the pages of a yellow legal pad. Without a show at the front, everyone turned to look at what was happening at the back, including Justice Roderick Macpherson. The judge turned his baggy red face towards me and gave me a withering look. He didn’t like it when anyone distracted from the proceedings in his court. Just a couple of weeks ago this would have been a real concern for me.
On the plus side, Gail Rakic was among those who turned around. She wore a black suit, white blouse, single strand of pearls. I would have advised her to save black for the verdict. I caught her eye and twisted my head back toward the door. I hoped it was a look that conveyed how urgently I needed to speak to her.
Gail had already ignored the voice mail and text message I had sent her, and now she turned her attention back to the front again. Bernstein was questioning a witness I didn’t recognize, a man who looked to be about 75, balding and stooped forward in the witness stand. The too-big checked sports coat that he was wearing and the oversized glasses that people had worn in the ’70s made it look like the witness was a shrunken version of his former self. Conservative Party volunteer, I guessed, probably up to lie about the money.
I surreptitiously took out my phone and sent Gail another text, improving the quality of the bait. “Have a way to get Sonny off. Meet me outside now.”
I was overstating what I had to offer, but I knew Gail wouldn’t be able to resist. I left the courtroom and sat in the waiting area outside the door. It was deserted. Within two minutes, Gail came out of the courtroom, too, with an expression that mixed hope, fear and anger.
She walked up to me and said, “This had better be good. I need to be at Sonny’s side.”
“It is. Take a seat.”
She reluctantly perched beside me and I said, “How is the case going?”
“Not that well. Since we lost the Mae Wang angle, Ben has been struggling. The judge’s questions tell me that he’s skeptical. No one likes politicians. You know that. I think we’ve got a 50-50 chance.”
“I can up those odds, but I need something from you.”
“I’ve given you everything I have. Did you get something on Champagne?”
Her look was so hopeful that I almost felt sorry for her. I was sure that she had been doling out the truth in little chunks, though. Now, I wanted to get everything that was left.
“There is a story coming on Champagne. I can tell you the details, but only if you can tell me more about how Mae Wang died.”
Gail got right in my face, trying out her bossy bitchiness. “Look, I’ve done a lot to help you. If you can save Sonny, you have to do that. He’s innocent. What kind of person are you?”
“Right now I’m the kind of person who is trying to get the truth about Mae Wang. That PI stuff was great, but I know there is more. When are you going to be straight with me?”
Gail looked away, visibly trying to calm herself, then reached into her purse. She pulled out her cigarettes, then put the package back. “God, I need a smoke.”
“It’s still pissing down rain.”
She sighed and said, “Let’s say, hypothetically, I did have some additional information about Mae Wang. How is that going to help Sonny? You already have a story on Champagne.”
“I do, but we don’t have him dead to rights. He could still wriggle off the hook. For you to win, you need Champagne’s credibility to be destroyed. I need to know if he had a direct involvement in Mae Wang’s death. If he did, think what Ben could do with that. Once it’s proven that Champagne is a lying shit, anything Ben wants to imply about what he did to Sonny becomes believable. This is the get-out-of-jail free card, Gail.”
She didn’t like that, and leaned back in her chair and gave me an appraising look. “How do I know that I can trust you?”
“You don’t have to trust me. Give me the truth about Mae Wang, and I’ll give you the details of the Champagne story before it hits the paper, let you and Ben prepare your next move.”
“What if I tell you something and it doesn’t help your story.”
“If it’s true, it will help my story.”
“And how do I know you will follow through?”
I reached into my purse and pulled out a printout of the rough draft I had just finished. Colin would freak out if he knew what I was doing, but he would forgive me if it paid off.
“This is the story, as it stands. It’s yours when I’m satisfied that you’ve finally told me all you know.”
Gail looked at the pages like she wanted to grab them out of my hand, but instead she said, “If I tell you what really happened the day Mae died, it has to be for your knowledge only, not for the paper. I need you to swear to that.”
“Done.”
Gail squeezed my hand, then said, “I’m going to trust you.” She looked up at the ceiling, then wiped away a couple of uncharacteristic tears. “When the PI first approached Mae to ask for her co-operation in testifying against Champagne, she flatly refused because the regime had her father in prison. I understood that, although it was very disappointing. Ben said we could still call her as a witness anyway, use it as an opportunity to put questions to her, but he wasn’t sure it would seem convincing.
“Then we got word that Mae’s father had died. I thought it was worth one more chance to persuade her to help. I was trying to save Sonny’s life, our future. She agreed to meet me, but said it had to be on the roof of your building. We weren’t recording in her apartment at that point, but she said others were.
“I pleaded with her to help, but she said there was nothing she could do. Yes, her father had died, but she still had a mother and a brother back in China. If she helped me, one or both of them would be put in prison. Mae said she had only met with me to get me to stop pressuring her. She said that she was trapped, that her life was already ruined, that she had no way out.
“Then she surprised me. She turned and began running for the edge of the roof. I could see that s
he was going to jump. I ran after and tackled her. We both went down on the gravel, me on top. Then she turned and kneed me, knocked the wind out of me. I rolled off.
“Mae staggered to her feet. Her head and knees were bleeding. She gave me a desperate look, then leaped off the roof.”
Gail paused, as if considering whether to end her story there.
“This next part is the thing I am ashamed of. I should have done something. Called 911 or told the police what happened, but if I did, I would have to explain why I was on that roof with her. Adrenalin took over. I knew she wanted to die, and she had achieved her goal.
“So I did nothing. I took a Valium, then caught a cab to court.”
I didn’t know what to say. I had not seen that coming. I knew what it was like to be willing to do anything to protect someone you loved.
Gail stared off into the distance, as if I were not there. Despite that, I knew she was waiting to hear what I had to say. Even when we know we have done something awful, we still want someone to say it’s all right. I decided to oblige.
“She wanted to die. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t stop the nightmares. What if I hadn’t pressured her? She never would have been on that roof. It was as if I had left her with no other way to escape.”
Gail shook her head, as if trying to dismiss the memory from her mind. I knew from experience that it wasn’t that easy.
“All right,” she said. “I’ve given you what you want. Now, can I please have that story?”
I handed Gail the story and said, “Good luck.”
As I headed back into the rain for the walk to the Chateau Laurier, I was already thinking about the rewrite. After chasing Mae Wang’s killer for so long, I had just found out I had been wrong the whole time.
Or had I? The Chinese, Champagne, maybe even the CIA, had all played a role in the drama that put Gail and Mae on that roof on that cool spring morning. They hadn’t pushed her, but they forced her to the edge. Mae was a victim of those who stole her life, no matter how she left that roof. My job was still to get as much justice as I could for her.
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