Annabel nodded. She felt her cheeks grow hot with tears.
“After that, I wanted to get as far from Boston as I could. I couldn’t bear to return to our little house with the window boxes. I called a client of mine who lived in Geneva and begged him to help me get a job. I started at Swiss United as an assistant, basically. They paid me half of what I was making back in the States and worked me twice as hard. But I didn’t care. I was so grateful to escape. That’s what I had hoped I could give to Matthew. After his father died, after the loss you two suffered, I knew he needed to start over. You both did. And that’s why I brought him to Geneva.”
“It was my fault we came here. I pushed Matthew to take this job. I needed the fresh start more than he did. I begged him for it.”
“You can’t blame yourself.”
“I know. But I do blame myself. Don’t you?”
“Yes. I feel guilty every day. It is the cross we bear, Annabel. For losing someone we loved. For not being able to save them.” He smiled at her then, tight-lipped. For a moment, they stared at each other, his cool blue eyes meeting hers.
“And you still find the will to go on?” she said. “To get up every day, even when you’re weighed down by your conscience?”
“I do. You will, too. They could not be helped. That’s what you and I must remember. Some things, no matter how tragic, cannot be helped.”
The doorbell rang. Annabel jumped.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “I think someone—”
“Ah, good. The police are here. We’ll straighten it all out now.”
But of course the police hadn’t arrived. No one had called them. It was Julian White. And Annabel was alone with them both in the apartment.
Marina
Marina was out of breath when she reached 5 East Sixty-fifth Street. As she skipped up the steps of James Ellis’s limestone town house, her heart pounded in her chest. The wind off Central Park stung at her cheeks and ears and ankles. She hadn’t planned on being out so late, or it being so cold, and she was woefully underdressed. A part of her—the cowardly part—thought about going home, but she forced herself to ring the bell. She had business with James Ellis. Immediate business.
For a minute, no one answered. Marina felt a tiny shiver of relief. She was turning away when she heard the familiar skitter of dog paws on the marble floor. The locks clicked open. James Ellis, flanked by his two pointers, stood in the entryway. He was casually dressed in chinos and a plaid button-down rolled up at his forearms. On his feet, he wore the fleece-lined slippers Marina had bought him for Christmas last year. When she saw those, her heart softened. She wanted to turn and run. But there was no choice. No going back now. Owen would send the story to press in the next twenty-four hours. She forced a smile.
“Hi, James,” she said. “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced.”
“You’re always welcome here. Please, come in.”
Marina followed James inside. The first floor was dark. A stack of hunter green luggage sat by the kitchen door. He was coming or going—she wasn’t sure. He was traveling constantly now that he was officially on the trail. She was lucky to have caught him.
They walked down the hallway to the library. A small fire crackled in the fireplace. A stack of papers lay facedown on an ottoman. A tumbler of scotch, neat, sat beside it.
“I’m sorry it’s so dark in here,” James said, flicking on the overhead lights. “I just got back from DC a few hours ago. Betsy’s in Long Island. Did you hear about the leak?”
“The leak?”
“Yes, in the basement. In Southampton. Did Grant tell you?”
“Oh, no. He didn’t. Was it serious?”
“Not sure yet. Happened during that cold snap last week. A pipe burst and everything’s flooded, apparently. These old houses are so much work, I can’t tell you. I would have been happy with a new build myself, but you know Betsy. She thinks all those Hamptons spec houses have no charm. Anyway, she’s dealing with it. So I’m alone tonight. Just me and the dogs and my security detail. But now I’ve got you. Lucky me. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m all right.”
“Come on. I’ve already poured myself a scotch. How about a glass of wine? Keep an old man company. Red or white?”
“Red, please. Thanks.”
James nodded and headed to the bar in the corner of the room. “Is Grant joining us?” he asked. He pulled out two bottles of red, examined both, settled on one. He opened it and poured her a generous glass.
“No, it’s just me.”
“Well, this is a nice surprise, then. Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Marina took a small sip. It was an excellent red, full-bodied, rich. Definitely expensive. She felt guilty that he had wasted it on her, on a night like this.
“So,” James said, settling back in his armchair. “I’m guessing this isn’t just a friendly visit.”
Marina smiled. “You’re right. It’s not.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Answer me honestly.”
“Of course.”
“How much money do you have stored in offshore accounts?”
James raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused. “This is about money?”
“Isn’t everything?”
“I didn’t think you were. In fact, I was counting on it.”
“I’m not shaking you down, if that’s what you think.”
“I don’t know quite what to think.”
“There’s a story being written about you. Not by me, but by someone I know. About your ties to Bashar al-Assad.”
“That old story.”
“Yes. Except this time, there’s a paper trail.”
“That’s not possible. I have no connection to Mr. Al-Assad, as I’ve said in the past. I plan on releasing my tax returns to prove that.”
Marina shook her head. “That won’t prove anything. All your business dealings with him happened through shell companies. With money in accounts at Swiss United Bank. Not exactly the kind of accounts that show up on tax returns.”
“Sounds like the premise of a great novel.”
“Except it’s fact, not fiction. And we both know that.”
James’s face hardened. Marina had seen him lose his temper before, but never with her. She braced herself, her fingers curling around the arms of the chair.
“Let’s get to the point, then,” he said, his voice cold. “How long were you two working together? Was it before or after you met my son?”
Marina frowned, confused. “How long have I been working with who?”
“With Duncan Sander. You think I didn’t know he was writing a story about Swiss United? If that’s the case, you’re not much of an investigative journalist.”
“You know, you’re the second person to say that to me today,” Marina said. She smiled, trying to keep her cool.
“Everyone at Swiss United knew about it. They warned me about him. Told me to stay away. Then Grant shows up with you on his arm. To be frank, I was certain you were a plant. It was an interesting plan. What better way for Sander to get the inside scoop on me than to send his pretty young assistant in to fuck my son?”
Marina’s mouth dropped open. “That’s what you think? That all this time, I’ve been with Grant so I could spy on your family?”
“Listen, you’re a terrific actress. You had me fooled for a while. I told Grant that I had my doubts about you. But he said he was madly in love, and you really did seem to care about him. About all of us. So I convinced myself that it was just an unfortunate coincidence.”
For a moment, Marina stared at James in stunned silence.
“Oh my God,” she whispered finally. “You killed Duncan.”
James glared at her, indignant. “Of course not. I was speaking at a real estate conference at NYU at the time.
You can check. There are plenty of eyewitnesses. Anyway, the man had scores of enemies. I was hardly the only person whose life Duncan Sander tried to destroy.”
“But you had him killed.” Marina didn’t need a response. She felt her voice rise with rage. “And you don’t even care.”
As she said the words, she remembered what Grant had said to her in Paris. Focus on family, he had said. Everything else is just collateral damage.
Suddenly her head was swimming. The room felt unpleasantly hot. Marina wiped her forehead with the edge of her sleeve.
“You’re not looking well, Marina. Are you all right?”
James moved toward her. Reflexively, Marina threw her wine in his face. “What did you do?” she screamed. “Why did you do it?”
“Keep your voice down,” James snarled. “I have security down the hall.” He lunged for her. She flinched, covering her face with her forearm. She felt him snatch the dripping glass from her hand and pull away. She opened her eyes. He was walking away from her, toward the bar. He placed her glass in the sink. From a drawer, he withdrew a cocktail napkin and began to blot his face dry.
“You didn’t need to kill him,” Marina said, her voice breaking into a sob. “He was a good man.”
“He may have been good to you, but Duncan Sander was far from a good man. He was a drunk and a liar and a crook. I didn’t kill him, but I don’t mind telling you that I’m happy he’s dead.”
“You can’t seriously be calling Duncan a crook.”
“He was a crook. He would do anything for a story. He tried to blackmail the head of Swiss United, did you know that? Threatened to run some tawdry story about how he was having an affair with an actress if Jonas didn’t give him information on some of his banking clients. He made a very powerful enemy that day.”
“He wasn’t investigating you, you know,” Marina cried. “He didn’t care about you. He was trying to track down Morty Reiss. That’s why he was poking around Swiss United.”
James scoffed. “Maybe that’s how it started. But Sander was a smart man. He knew how valuable it could be to have a source inside an offshore bank. Morty Reiss is a small fish compared to some of the other clients at Swiss United.”
“Like you.”
“Like me.”
“So you admit it, then. You have money there.”
James laughed. “You want me to tell you the whole story? You may not like what you hear.”
“Yes, of course I do. That’s why I came here.”
“Because you want the truth.”
Marina was aware that James was mocking her, but she didn’t care. She could tell he was about to break. He wanted to tell her the story, she realized. Maybe he was planning to kill her afterward. Or blackmail her or bribe her into silence. But like so many other criminals she’d interviewed, she could tell he wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done. He might even be proud of it.
“I do,” she said, her voice small. “You may not believe this, James, and I have no way to prove it to you, but I love Grant very much. I came to you tonight because I am worried about you. And I wanted to warn you that this story is being written. Not by Duncan. Not by me. By a journalist at the Wall Street Journal.”
For a moment, they were both silent. James took a seat, his brow furrowed. Marina could tell he wasn’t sure whether to believe her, but he was going to give her his ear.
“Why was Duncan fishing around Swiss United?”
“Duncan was obsessed with Morty Reiss. He’s always wanted to prove that Reiss faked his own death, that he was still alive somewhere. That’s why he started poking around offshore banks. He figured that the best way to find Reiss was to find his money.
“He never told me who his sources were. In fact, he was completely close-lipped about the whole investigation. I do know that a source gave him quite a bit of information. Financial records, emails, everything. Just before he died, Duncan must have shared it with other journalists. It’s a huge investigation now, involving a number of people at a number of publications. And the stories will come out. Soon.”
“And one of the stories is me.”
“Yes.”
“Involving my holdings at Swiss United.”
“Yes. And your business dealings with Assad.”
James sighed. Suddenly he seemed very tired. With his thumb and forefinger, he massaged the skin between his eyebrows. “And you came here because you want to know if it’s true.”
“Not as a journalist. As your daughter-in-law.”
James nodded, considering. “You know I hired a team. To vet me, basically. Paid a small fortune. They didn’t find a thing.”
“So you decided it was safe to run.”
“I’m hardly the first politician to have money stashed offshore.”
“I’m sure.”
“The Assad business was so long ago. It doesn’t really matter now.”
“He’s a dictator. Of course it matters.”
“He’s a deal maker. Same as me. He bought me out of a bind, that’s all. And it’s been a very lucrative arrangement for him. He’s made a killing off those hotels.”
“But optically—”
“Yes, optically, it’s not good. Because of sanctions lists and what-have-you. What people don’t understand is that sanctions lists aren’t about justice. They’re just leverage. A way for one country to exert power over another.”
“So you don’t believe that sanctions lists should exist?”
“I think we live in a global economy. If we want the economy to operate efficiently, we should be able to trade freely, with whomever we please.”
“Even if that means doing business with criminals.”
James smiled. “Who gets to decide who is a criminal? Just because the US doesn’t like a foreign leader and slaps his name on a sanctions list, does that make him a criminal?”
“Assad is an extreme case.”
“Perhaps. But you can’t trust everything you read in the papers, Marina. If you were to pick up a Syrian newspaper, I’m sure you’d find some scathing critiques of our current president. It’s all a matter of perspective.”
“It’s a matter of truthful reporting.”
“You know what I think is criminal? Illegally acquiring financial statements from inside a bank and publishing them.”
“Does Grant know about your holdings at Swiss United? Or your dealings with Assad? Does he know what happened to Duncan?”
“No.” James gave her a stern look. “Keep Grant out of this, Marina.”
Marina nodded. She breathed a small sigh of relief. “I will.”
“If this story comes out, it will destroy his career, you know. Mine, certainly. But his, too.”
“I know.”
“And you love him. Or you say you do.”
“I love him very much.”
“Then you must understand that I will do everything in my power to kill this story. I have, and I will.”
“I understand.”
“And you’ll stand silently by as I do it.”
It wasn’t a question. Marina nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to speak.
“Good. We’re family now, Marina. Every family has its secrets. This will be ours.” James rose from his chair. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said. “The dogs need their walk. And I have an early flight in the morning.”
“Of course. I can show myself out.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll have my driver take you home. It’s dark out now. Can’t be too careful.”
Marina followed James down the hall. From the foyer table, he removed two leashes. Upon hearing the jangling sound of the metal clips against the marble floor, the two dogs came running. They sat obediently at James’s feet as he tightened their collars around their necks and clipped them into their leashes.
“Goo
d boys,” James murmured beneath his breath, feeding each a treat from his pocket.
James opened the town house door. His Escalade idled at the curb. Marina looked to her right and left, scanning the street. She did this reflexively now, always aware that someone might be following her. Across the street, lights twinkled from inside a cozy French bistro. A neighbor’s maid stood on the sidewalk, watering the topiary bushes that flanked the town house door. Otherwise, the block was empty. The cross streets between Fifth and Madison always felt eerily quiet after dusk. Marina began to descend the stairs.
She stopped halfway down and turned.
“James,” she said, just as he was beginning to close the door.
“Yes?”
“The man who has been following me. Was he sent by you?”
James smiled. From the look on his face, Marina knew the answer was yes.
“You know, this morning I had Betsy fire the caretaker out in Southampton,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because of the leak. These things start small, but if you don’t watch them, they can destroy a whole house.”
“He should have been watching more closely, you think.” Marina shivered. A light rain had begun to fall and Marina felt her hair growing damp.
“With a house that valuable, he should have been watching it like a hawk. It’s what I pay him for. Leaks can be deadly.”
Marina nodded. The dogs cowered beside James, unhappy but silent. The rain was coming down harder now. She couldn’t pretend to ignore it.
“Go home, dear. Take care of yourself. Manuel will make sure you get there safely.”
James yanked on the leashes, and the dogs leapt to their feet. Marina watched as they descended the steps and headed in the diretion of the park. She turned and strode defiantly past James’s car. She would rather walk home in the rain.
Annabel
Darling.” Julian pulled Annabel to him, his arms locking behind her back. “There you are. I was so worried.”
“I’m all right. Jonas is here. He helped me clean this place up a bit.”
The Banker’s Wife Page 19