by Unknown
When Sharpe and Paget were on the other side, she shut the door behind them, as if to say something she wished Brooks not to hear. ‘When you first came here,’ she said in a flat voice, ‘I had some sympathy for you, believe it or not. Now I know you’re just another user. So I want you to know that you’re using the wrong issue, for the wrong woman, in the wrong case. That’s what I’m going to prove.’
She turned and stalked back to her office, the brisk click of her heels sounding on the tile floor.
Chapter 11
‘Did Chris know?’ Steinhardt had asked.
Alone in his office, Paget imagined the second tape.
He was certain that it began with the night in Washington, fifteen years before, when Mary helped him evade Lasko’s men at the airport. The night they had found Jack Woods rifling Paget’s desk, clutching the memo that would destroy Lasko and the President. The memo of a dead man. The witness Lasko had ordered killed, Alec Lehman.
For an instant, Paget remembered, Woods’s face had frozen in surprise. Then it had settled into closed-off pride, looking from Paget to Mary and back again. His broken nose lent a hint of violence.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Paget had demanded.
Woods had remained silent, giving the room a searching glance. Only the desk was between them. The overhead light cast a sickly yellow tint on the bare walls.
The desk touched the wall to Paget’s right. But between the desk and the left wall was a four-foot space. Woods gauged it, then turned back to Paget.
Paget felt a sudden wave of anger. ‘Give me the memo.’
Woods shook his head. Paget’s anger began turning to disbelief. ‘It was you all along,’ Paget said.
Woods stared at Paget with contempt. ‘Nothing justifies the fuck-up you’ve made. You’re a fool, with no sense of proportion.’
‘And you’re a low-rent John Dean, Woods, with the ethics of a war criminal.’
Woods answered in a smooth, indifferent voice. ‘Lehman’s dead. I didn’t want that, but there it is There’s only you to say this memo ever existed. And there’s no one over me for you to say it to.’
They were both to the side of the desk now, three feet between them. Woods was framed by the darkened window, Capitol Hill spotlit behind him. The two men watched each other.
‘If you want to walk out of here,’ Paget answered, ‘you’ll have to kill me yourself. I know it all now. Most important, I know where the money was going.’
‘I’ll bite,’ Woods said negligently. ‘Where?’
‘The President.’
For five minutes, still tensed and watchful, Paget had spelled it out: a one-and-one-half-million-dollar ‘contribution’ to kill an antitrust case, the one witness who could prove that, Alec Lehman, whose memo Woods now held – whose death Woods had caused.
Woods’s response was unnaturally calm. ‘You’ve lost,’ he said simply. ‘Without this memo, no one will believe you.’
The words covered Woods’s careful slide toward the door. Paget slid back his right foot, to brace himself.
Woods suddenly dipped his shoulder and shot forward, knocking Paget against the desk. Paget bounced off and punched up from the rib cage. Woods’s teeth clicked.
Pain ripped through Paget’s forearm. Woods rocked, then caught himself against the wall.
Paget lunged for the memo. But Woods was too quick and too strong. He sidestepped as Paget stumbled past, off balance. A fist cracked into Paget’s cheekbone. He staggered, then sprawled facedown on his desk, seeing a sudden purple haze. The haze cleared. In front of him was an onyx bookend, a squat hunk of rock. He grabbed it left-handed and spun.
What Paget hit was teeth.
Woods’s hands jerked up to clamp his mouth, as if to hold it together. Paget cocked the bookend, then hacked at Woods’s forehead.
Paget heard Mary scream.
As Woods tottered on his heels, Paget hit him again.
Woods staggered, eyes glazed. Then he slid slowly down the wall. Paget gaped at him, breathing hard.
Mary stood in the doorway, staring. Woods was sprawled gracelessly on the floor, like the victim of a sudden stroke. His mouth was oozing blood.
Mary looked up from Woods, and then saw Paget’s face.
She froze, irresolute, turned to run. Paget caught her and threw her against the wall. She made a little sound, like a hurt cat. Her fingers covered her mouth.
Paget moved toward her.
She shook her head like a mechanical doll. ‘No. No, Chris. You can’t believe . . .’
Paget shook her hard.
‘Lehman,’ he demanded. ‘It was you and Woods.’
Mary stared at Paget.
‘Tell me, damn you, before I mash your fucking face into the wall.’
Her words escaped in twos and threes. ‘That night . . . the first time we went out . . . you said you were going to Boston. To meet a key witness.’ She caught her breath. ‘I called Jack, after I got in. Jack called Lasko.’
Paget clamped her shoulders. ‘Goddamn you.’
Her voice jumped. ‘No one knew Lasko would kill Lehman. I could hardly sleep.’
Paget shook her. ‘I was there, remember?’
The personal thing was close to the surface, passing unspoken from Mary’s eyes to his. ‘Please, Chris,’ she pleaded, ‘let me talk.’
Paget slowly eased his grip. Her mouth worked soundlessly, then started. ‘I never talked to Lasko or anyone at the White House. I never wanted you hurt. I didn’t know, really. I didn’t know what I was into. I just tried to help Jack control the case. I couldn’t expose him after the Lehman thing. He said we were both in trouble, because I’d known what he was doing. That’s the only reason I kept helping him.’
‘Including tonight, when you called him from the airport? That is what happened, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, damn it. Now let me go.’
‘Did you call anyone but Woods?’
She shook her head. If that was true, Paget thought, perhaps he had some time before Lasko’s people, evaded at the airport, figured out where he was. He let his hands drop.
Mary straightened and smoothed her hair, seemed to retrieve some of her poise. Something in Paget had admired that, even then.
Her eyes softened. She spoke quickly, looking at him. ‘Chris, you think I was with you because of the case. Maybe I used that a little. But I didn’t have to come to you this weekend. And I didn’t have to stay. I did that because I wanted to.’
Two days before, Paget remembered, they had made love. It seemed much longer. ‘I’ve had the privilege of listening to your speeches about politics, remember? You were just another weapon they could use. To pry the memo out of me, and give it to Woods.’
She nodded her concession. ‘All right. But if I’d kept you away from Lasko, or gotten this memo, you’d be safe. I cared for you. You were good at things, gentle underneath – and so free. Money does make you free, you know.’
‘No, I don’t know.’
‘Chris, please let’s not lose this too.’
It was no good, Paget realized. Slowly, he shook his head. ‘What I very much don’t want to lose,’ he answered, ‘is my life.’
A touch of panic crossed her face. ‘Give me the memo, Chris, and I can protect you. There isn’t anywhere you can go with this. Not Woods, the White House, or anywhere else.’
She was right, Paget knew. He looked over at Woods. He was still unconscious, but Paget’s time was running out. He turned to Mary and pointed to the chair behind his desk. ‘Sit over there.’
Paget reached for his telephone. In quick succession, he made two phone calls. When he had finished, a police lieutenant in Boston knew about everything except Mary and a reporter from the Washington Post was hurrying from home to meet him outside.
‘Why didn’t you tell them about me?’ Mary asked.
‘I have my reasons.’
Woods moaned but didn’t move. Mary glanced at him dispassionately. ‘You know, he was rig
ht. You don’t have enough proof to do to him what you’ve done to Lasko.’
Paget shrugged. Her eyes were imploring now. ‘Chris,’ she said urgently, ‘there has to be some way to make this better.’
Paget did not answer. His watch showed 9:43; in a minute or so, the reporter would be parked in front of the building.
Paget picked up the telephone and placed his last call.
An operator answered. ‘Police Emergency.’
‘Yes. I’d like to report an incident. The address is the ECC Building on D Street, Northwest, room 327. I’ve just caught a man trying to burglarize my desk. I knocked him unconscious, possible concussion. I’ll need a couple of officers and maybe an ambulance.’
Mary bolted upright. The operator repeated the address. ‘We’ll have someone there within three minutes,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’
As Paget put down the phone, Mary lunged for the door, half tripping over Woods.
Paget caught her by the wrist.
She struggled, then stopped. Paget pulled her back. ‘The cops will be here in about two minutes. I have to leave. I’m giving you a choice – stay or go.’
Mary stared at him furiously. ‘I want to leave.’
Paget forced himself to be very calm. ‘Choice one is to stay and tell the truth. That Woods said he called Lasko about Lehman, that you called Woods tonight, and that after that he broke into my desk –’
‘I didn’t know he was going to do that,’ she interjected.
‘And along with that, you can do your Miss Innocence routine and try to wriggle out. If you can pull that off, I won’t stop you.’
Her eyes were black pools. ‘And if I leave?’
‘Then I give your name to the Post.’
She clutched Paget’s shirt. ‘Do you know what that would do?’
‘I figure disbarment at the very least. You’ve got about a minute to decide.’
She dropped her hands. ‘I’ll stay, damn you.’
‘Good. Tell the police I’ll be by in the morning.’
Woods was moaning, the blood caked on his mouth. The memo still lay by his hand.
Paget picked it up and started to leave.
‘You’re a bastard, Chris.’ She said it in a clear, quiet voice.
Paget turned back. She was watching him, with an odd, expectant look. ‘My reporter friend will be calling the police,’ he said, ‘at exactly midnight. To check your statement on Woods, for his article. If you change your story or tell the cops where I am, you’ll be reading about yourself tomorrow morning.’
Mary’s mouth parted. It was strange, Paget thought; he had never seen her more beautiful.
He turned and walked out.
He glanced back, once, as he rounded the corner. Mary was staring down at Woods. The yellow light was surrounded by darkness. The room looked like a cell.
‘Did Chris know about you?’ Steinhardt had asked Mary.
Chris knew everything.
There was a knock on the door, and Terri Peralta came in. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Did you find Mary?’
‘Yes. She’ll be here in about an hour.’
Paget nodded. ‘Close the door,’ he said. ‘There are a few things I have to tell you.’
It was somehow touching, Paget thought, to watch Terri’s attempt to listen like a lawyer, devoid of judgment or emotion. It made his own feelings a bit more bearable.
When he had finished, Terri simply sat there for a moment. ‘Why did Mary tell you she was pregnant?’ she finally asked. ‘At least when she did.’
‘Insurance, I would guess. That night in my office, neither of us could know what we were getting into – a Senate investigation, national television. We were both improvising, with Jack Woods lying there on the floor. I was trying to save my life and, as Mary saw it, she was trying to save her life.’ Paget paused. ‘By the time we got to the hearing, I guess Mary wasn’t sure I’d still protect her.’
‘Would you have?’
‘I had hoped that no one would ever ask about her.’ Paget leaned back, remembering. ‘When Talmadge did ask, there were so many things going through my mind.
‘The hearing room was quite imposing: leather chairs and a long wooden bench, raised so that you had to look up from the witness table; thirteen senators staring down; cameras everywhere.
‘Millions of people were watching me. I had come so far with this since I’d seen Alec Lehman run down on a Boston street, since William Lasko had tried to do that to me. In the last two hours of testimony, I had settled my accounts with Lasko, with a President I didn’t even know, and, most personal of all, with Jack Woods – who represented everything in government that I despised.
‘I had to decide whether to go all the way, or to end it with a lie.
‘In a way, it was Woods who put me there.
‘Mary had finished him, of course – I couldn’t have nailed Woods without a second witness. Skipping the question of morality, her testimony that morning was a thing of beauty. With complete self-confidence, she had told the truth about Woods by claiming that he had “confessed” what Mary in fact already knew. Then she covered for herself, absolutely certain that Woods could never implicate her in any convincing way without implicating himself.’
Paget watched his words register in Terri’s eyes: their client was a liar and worse, and Paget had always known it. ‘Which brings us,’ he said slowly, ‘back to me.
‘Talmadge asked a question with a lengthy preamble, as senators seem prone to do on television. But when he finally got to the question, it was, “Did Miss Carelli have any involvement in the death of Alec Lehman, the obstruction of your inquiry, the leaks to William Lasko, or the alleged cover-up of illegal contributions to the President himself.”
‘I remember looking up at him, composing my answer. Thinking about Woods, and Mary, and the baby she would have.
‘Just as I began to answer, a camera flashed.’
Paget gazed at Terri. ‘I lied, of course. Time magazine captured the moment in mid-sentence and put it on their cover.’
Terri met his gaze, impassive. ‘Is that why you’ve never talked about it?’
Paget nodded. ‘I don’t know,’ he said softly, ‘whether it was that so many people thought I was a hero, or the lie itself. Whatever, the Lasko case had done something to me, and I was through with it.’
‘Does anyone else know?’
‘Only Mary.’ Paget hesitated. ‘And now you.’
‘Not Carlo?’
‘Definitely not Carlo. Not, at least, until someone finds the second tape.’
All at once, Terri’s shoulders slumped. ‘Oh, Chris, she said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘Mary and I both made our choices. We’re the perfect couple, and Carlo is a lucky boy.’
Terri shook her head, almost angrily. ‘He is lucky. What you did was out of love – it’s something a parent does for a child.’ She finished more gently: ‘It’s something my mother would have done for me.’
‘That’s the most attractive view. But I didn’t do it just for Carlo.’ Paget turned, watching the rain spatter his windows. ‘Perhaps, to some degree, I did it for Mary herself. But I don’t think it was just that, either. Maybe it comes down to this: I needed Mary to tell the truth about Jack Woods, so I helped her lie about herself.’
Terri’s gaze was steady again. ‘That doesn’t explain raising Carlo.’
‘If you believe Mary, I was searching for atonement.’ Paget looked away. ‘I know this much: the day in Paris, when I threatened her with the truth unless she gave up Carlo, was one day Mary thought would never come. And today, listening to her confess on tape, was a day I thought would never come. For any of us.’
Terri was silent. Finally, she said, ‘If that tape gets into evidence, Mary doesn’t have a prayer, does she?’
Paget shook his head. ‘Not only does the tape give her a motive, but the motive is to conceal that she’s a
lready committed perjury. After that, no jury will believe her about anything.’
Once more, Terri hesitated. ‘Do you think Mary planned to murder Ransom?’
‘I have no idea.’
Terri looked pensive. ‘What I don’t understand is why she wanted you to represent her. Of all people, you’re the one least likely to believe her.’
‘Oh, Mary’s reason’s clear enough to me.’ Paget turned to her. ‘I’m the only person alive that Mary absolutely believes to be as ruthless as she is – at least if I want something badly enough. She’s seen that twice: that night in Washington, when I wanted to finish Woods, and that afternoon in Paris, when I felt I was saving Carlo.’ Paget paused. ‘Because of Carlo, I have something to lose now. It was Mary’s turn to play the perjury card. To force me to represent her.’
‘With what’s on the tapes, though, why would she want you?’
Paget gave a bleak smile. ‘They’re the best motivator of all. The first tape damages me by implication, the second no doubt finishes the job. If I don’t manage to suppress either or both – not so coincidentally giving Mary her only hope of beating this – Carlo will get a rude surprise regarding both his parents.’
Terri touched her eyes. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know that, either.’ Paget hesitated. ‘I may not have a conflict in the literal sense – I’m no longer chargeable with perjury, and I have no personal knowledge regarding Ransom’s death. But in the deepest way, my own interests are very much at stake.’
‘Or Carlo’s interests.’
Paget shrugged. ‘In a family, it’s hard to keep them separate: what the parent does, or doesn’t do, invariably affects the child. That’s why Mary was right to give up Carlo. For whatever reason.’
‘Have you thought of telling him?’
‘A thousand times. And the answer I keep coming up with is “not unless I have to.”’
Terri hesitated. ‘He’s not a frightened seven-year-old anymore. He’s a different boy.’
Paget considered that. ‘How different, I wonder. Most kids, when they learn some hard truth about a parent, make their peace with it in private. That’s a bit easier than learning in the full glare of publicity that your mother – who’s already charged with murder – obstructed justice fifteen years before, was morally implicated in the killing of a government witness, and went hand in hand with your father to lie about it to the United States Senate.’ Paget shook his head. ‘What would your mother do with that one?’