Dead Promise

by Linda Wells

  78

  When the bell rang, he hoped it was LiLi. He didn’t want to wait for the food. The food could come later. His sexual appetite couldn’t wait. But it was the caterer and his assistant, carrying insulated boxes filled with silver serving dishes, bottles of French Champagne, and other aromatic delicacies in Styrofoam containers. He showed them to the kitchen, and they began preparing the meal, first placing a tray of assorted appetizers on the buffet, setting the table with a bouquet of fresh flowers, lovely china, and silver serving pieces at each place setting, and putting small casseroles in the oven. He paid the two young caterers, relieved they’d finally finished getting things set up for the special evening he had planned with his lovely companion. The Champagne was chilling, and the food was in the warm oven, everything ready. Doug opened the drapes at the last moment, the twinkling lights over the river adding the perfect ambience to the evening. He lit the candles just as the doorbell rang.

  When he opened the door, he was overwhelmed. LiLi was beautiful, but it was her sexuality that overtook him. Doug grabbed her and kissed her before she even stepped into the apartment. She responded to him, and he knew her, knew she was impressed by his power, and that turned him on even more. He loved that he had this effect on women, all women whom he’d bedded. They couldn’t resist his charm and prowess.

  He took her small evening bag, placed it on the table by the door, and dragged her to the sofa. He wasn’t going to wait. His mouth was on hers as his hands slid up her silk skirt, the feel of her soft thighs making him impatient. He removed her blue silk jacket, tossed it on the floor, and slid the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders. He pulled the top of her dress down to her waist, revealing her demicup lace bra. He kissed the mounds of each breast before unfastening the lacy undergarment and throwing it on the floor. He sucked her nipples as she gasped and moaned. He bit them hard, played with them, as he shoved her skirt up and stuck two fingers inside her panties, feeling her wetness. Kissing her mouth, he pushed her down and forced her legs open with his knee as he unzipped his pants, pulled his dick out, and shoved it into her. He fucked her hard, moving in and out, her moans getting louder. Doug ignored her, feeling his pleasure mounting, his strokes coming faster and faster; the insatiable feeling of never getting enough had overtaken him. He couldn’t stop, moving in and out, deeper each time until he came, forcibly, inside her, her legs spread apart for him, her panties torn.

  Doug stayed on top of her, unable to move for several minutes. LiLi was whimpering, tears in her eyes, her mouth bruised and swollen. He got up, zipped his pants, gathered her clothes, and tossed them to her.

  “Here, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll get you a drink, and you’ll feel better. You were just too delicious to resist.” He bent over to give her a quick kiss.

  He went to the buffet, opened the Champagne, and filled two chilled glasses. He handed one to LiLi, and she drank quickly, not looking at him. He sat down next to her, his arm around her. She was still half-undressed, not looking at him.

  “Now, LiLi, don’t be upset because I had to have you,” he said. “You know I have a special gift for you, don’t you?”

  She was quiet, and he noticed she’d finished her drink. He walked to the bar, got the bottle of Champagne, and refilled her glass. As she sipped the sparkling liquid, he pulled the small black velvet box from his pocket.

  “For you, dear LiLi, my angel,” he said.

  He started kissing her again, but she pulled away, focusing on the present he’d given to her. She opened the gift slowly, but her eyes brightened when she saw the necklace sparkle against the red silk lining.

  “Would you like to wear it?” he asked.

  “Yes, it’s so pretty,” she whispered in awe.

  Doug took it from the box, asked her to turn around, and placed the necklace around her slender neck, the heart looking beautiful on her bare skin. He helped her dress, kissing each breast before fastening her bra. Then he pulled the top of her dress up to cover her breasts, placing the slender straps on her shoulders. Touching her was so exciting.

  “It’s perfect,” he said. “Come look in the mirror.”

  He helped her stand, as she straightened and lowered her skirt. He guided her to the mirror. She touched the necklace, admiring its beauty, but when she saw her face, she started crying. Her hair was disheveled, and her lips were red and bleeding.

  “Now, now, none of that,” he said. “Let’s have some food, and you’ll feel better.”

  She grabbed her purse from the table below the mirror and asked to be excused for a moment. She knew her way to the bathroom, and Doug began uncovering the food dishes and placing them on the table. She was gone for several minutes, but he had everything ready when she returned. He pulled her chair out, and she sat down, facing the breathtaking view, the beautiful lights of the city shimmering off the water. Doug was relaxed, feeling better than he had in a long time.

  “I forgot the rice,” he said. “Please have some of the vegetables and dumplings. I ordered them especially for you, my LiLi.”

  When he left the room, she took the vial she had hidden in the palm of her hand and poured its contents into Doug’s drink. The liquid quickly blended into the sparkling Champagne. She slid the empty vial back into her small beaded purse, hidden under her napkin. He came back in the room with the bowl of rice and smiled at her, placing small portions of the snow peas and dumplings on her silver-rimmed dinner plate. Doug sat down, served himself and LiLi some rice and salmon, and took several large swallows of his drink, ready to enjoy a wonderful meal with his beautiful companion, looking forward to his after-dinner aperitif.

  79

  The knock at the door startled him. What was going on? He looked through the window, spotted a black SUV parked in front. When he opened the door, three figures, dressed in black uniforms and armed, showed their IDs.

  The one in front showed her badge. “I’m Special Agent Martin, FBI. We have a search warrant. Are you Danish Shah?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice shaking.

  One of the others asked him to lean against the wall and patted him down. “He’s clean,” he said.

  “Sit over there,” said Martin, motioning for him to sit down on the sofa in the small living room of his apartment. One of the men stayed with him, standing in the room near the front door.

  Danish was scared stiff. He knew what it was about, but he didn’t want to say anything. His mind started racing. Whom should he call? He needed a lawyer, but if they didn’t find anything, why would he need a lawyer? Everyone at Edgewood was probably getting searched. An unannounced visit from the FBI shouldn’t be a surprise. So why was he shaking? He’d already been questioned, and he had nothing to hide, right? How could they have tied him to anything? Unless he’d left something on his laptop. Or they saw the frequent calls he’d made to her on his cell phone. He’d made many calls to Dr. Chen at her home, but he’d hung up when he heard her voice. He’d really done nothing wrong. His work at the lab had been aboveboard, and he’d been promoted. He’d helped her with a special project, but that was all. He didn’t even know what it had been about, but he’d rushed through the findings, working on the special vaccine experiment. She was a research scientist. That was what they all did. Research.

  He’d thrown the receipt for the canister away, as far as he could remember. He’d bought it at a hardware store not far from his apartment. It was a big store, and no one would notice him. He’d bought trash bags and some other household items. He had been just another customer, paying cash for everything. He could hear them going through his things, removing drawers, opening kitchen cabinets. He started to get up, but the agent watching him told him to stay put.

  After about thirty minutes, the woman who called herself Special Agent Martin came in, holding a wallet in her hand.

  “Is this your wallet, Mr. Shah?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is,” he said.

  “We need to ask you some questions, sir,” s
he said. “I’ll have to ask you to come with us.”

  Danny was allowed to change from his T-shirt into a dress shirt, and he put on shoes and socks.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, but he knew what they wanted to ask him. “May I call my dad?”

  “When we get to headquarters,” Agent Martin said.

  Thankfully he wasn’t handcuffed, but he was placed in the back of the SUV, a steel panel separating him from the front seats. They slammed the rear door shut. He knew they’d found out what he’d done. He’d never put anyone at risk. He hoped Dr. Chen would testify on his behalf. He thought about what was in his wallet. He should never have done it. He had never meant to hurt anyone, only help her. His father would never forgive him. How could all of this be happening? He started to cry.

  80

  Wally’s number showed up on her phone.

  “Yes, Wally,” said George.

  “We have the guy who planted the canister,” said Wally.

  “Who?”

  “He worked with Chen on the vaccine, told us everything.”

  “What was their relationship?” asked George.

  “Strictly work,” he said. “We’ve asked other people who knew him. He was a loner, no friends, just kind of hung out at the lab. Seemed to work all the time, even when off duty, on weekends, especially when Dr. Chen was there.”

  “What was in the canister?” asked George.

  “Empty,” said Wally. “Nada. Guess he wanted to point the finger at Adams.”

  “Why?” asked George. “Interfere in the investigation of Chen?”

  “The kid, Danish ‘Danny’ Shah, was a young chemist with a big crush. We have his phone and laptop. He has photos of Dr. Chen on his phone, on all his social media, and apparently he was at the lab the night she swapped the vials.”

  “So he hated Adams, too,” said George. “Guess he’d heard the rumors about Chen’s relationship, and he was jealous.”

  “Yes, it all fits,” said Wally. “He’s talking. But he didn’t know anything about the virus or her plan. He just knew something was going on, and he helped her with the vaccine.”

  “Ties to terrorist groups?” asked George.

  “No, nothing. His family is prominent and well respected, from Pakistan. Clean record, Virginia Tech grad, high honors,” said Wally.

  “Guess we’ll have to charge him,” said George.

  “Eventually,” said Wally. “Interfering in an investigation, evidence tampering, accessory after the fact, probably more.”

  “I guess he doesn’t know the Director.”

  “Never heard of him,” said Wally. “He’s just a whack-job kid, but guilty as hell.”

  “And in love with Dr. Chen,” said George.

  “Yes, he wanted to help her,” said Wally. “He kept asking about her. We have him locked up tight. He won’t be going anywhere for a long time.”

  “So he can’t help us,” said George.

  “No, I don’t think so, but he helped Adams,” said Wally. “Adams looks clean. At least for now.”

  81

  “How are you doing, Max?” asked George.

  Max was leaning against the wall, staring straight ahead. He looked at George and Mark as though he didn’t recognize them. Then he realized she was speaking to him.

  “OK,” he said.

  “Any news about Suzy? Did you talk to her again?” asked George.

  “No,” he said. “The nurse said she’d slept again and is doing well.”

  “Good,” said George. “Do you want to spend the night here?” she asked. “We’re going to the family waiting area on this floor. It looks pretty comfortable.”

  “I’ll stay here for now,” he said.

  “You could use the recliner in her room,” said George. “You need to sleep.”

  “I’m all right,” said Max.

  “She wants to talk to you,” said George. “That’s the last thing she said to me.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You have my number,” she told him. “We’ll be nearby.”

  “Thanks,” he said, standing up, extending his hand. She took it, and he shook her hand with both of his, gratitude in his eyes.

  George looked at the evening guards. She knew he was safe. She and Mark walked down the hall toward the lounge. All they could do was wait.

  82

  The ringing startled him.

  “Howland,” he answered.

  “Jake, it’s Bruce,” said FBI director Hamler.

  “Yes, what is it?” he asked, looking at the clock. Katherine turned over and faced him, listening.

  “Doug Bishop is dead,” he said.

  “No. Impossible!” said Jake. He sat up in bed.

  “He didn’t show up at the office. His assistant sent a staffer to his apartment. Security let him in, and they found Bishop in bed. They couldn’t wake him up. Rigor mortis had already set in. Guess he’d been dead for some time. Our people were called in, and he’s been taken to the MI6 coroner,” said Hamler.

  Jake was silent for a few moments, absorbing the news.

  “Alone?” he asked.

  “Looks like he might have had company, but someone cleaned the place pretty well,” said Hamler. “We’re doing a sweep, but so far, we’ve found no cell phone in the apartment, no laptop. We’ll search his office at the embassy, records, everything,” he said. “One of the security agents said there was a catering truck in back of the building last night. We’ll check that out. No sign of a struggle.”

  “What’s it look like?” asked Jake.

  “It’s early, but they said he must have gotten very sick, eyes bloodshot, lots of vomit, blood from his mouth and nose; not pretty,” said Hamler. “No clothing.”

  “Doesn’t sound like natural causes,” said Jake.

  “Probably poison, off the record,” said Bruce. “It shouldn’t take long to find out.”

  “What about his security?” asked Jake.

  “They were on duty,” said Hamler. “Nothing unusual. They confirm he had a visitor. A young lady, one of his regulars, and she left late, hurried out of the apartment building.”

  “Call me as soon as you can,” said Jake.

  “Yes, I will,” said Hamler. “You were right about him. He was scared of something.” He paused. “There’s one more thing. London police found a body early this morning, a young Chinese girl. She was fished out of the Thames, pretty badly beaten. They think she’s a prostitute. We’ll know soon if there’s a connection.”

  “Will our agents call on the Chinese embassy?” asked Jake.

  “Oh yeah, that’s the other thing,” said Hamler.

  “What?”

  “Ambassador Han’s staff called our bureau attaché office and informed them that he’s been called back to Beijing on official state duties, and they’re unable to say when he’ll return,” said Hamler.

  “That’s convenient,” said the president. “What about the assistant to the ambassador? Will anyone talk to us?”

  “No one is available at this time,” said Hamler.

  “No surprise there.”

  “Correct,” said Hamler. “I called the CIA.”

  “I’ll call the prime minister,” said Jake. “This is turning into a CF, big-time.”

  83

  Georgiana and Mark were resting in the family waiting room. Exhaustion was setting in, and they’d found comfortable recliners with clean pillows and blankets. George looked at Mark. He was asleep, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back in the recliner. She stared at his face, his dark shadow of a beard, thinking of their night together. She put the thoughts aside, telling herself, “Not now.” She was too wound up to sleep, the television set droning low in the background. A few lamps on corner tables cast low, soft light into the room. She was checking her messages when her phone rang. It was Fran.

  “Hey, Fran,” George said, getting out of the recliner and stepping into the quiet hallway.

  “George, Hamler just cal
led me. The US ambassador to Great Britain was found dead early this morning in his private apartment. It looks like poison.”

  “Oh my God,” said George. “Do they know anything?”

  “It’s possible that the probe by the FBI set off some alarms, a connection of some type,” said Fran. “But it’s early and just speculation. Hamler said that Ambassador Bishop called the president yesterday, right after the FBI office in London called the Chinese embassy. Bishop sounded nervous, apparently taking some heat from the Chinese ambassador, wondering what the inquiry was about.”

  “I wonder what it all means,” said George.

  “I don’t know, but it looks bad. Bishop had a reputation, and he was tight with the Chinese embassy, lots of mutual entertaining, if you know what I mean,” said Fran. “Hamler called CIA director St. Clair. They’re investigating.”

  “Have our agents talked with the Chinese ambassador yet?” asked George.

  “No, that’s the other strange part of this. The Chinese ambassador, Wang Jie Han, was called back to China. No one knows when he’ll return to London,” said Fran. “And no one is available to talk to our people.”

  “Too coincidental,” said George.

  The lounge door opened, and Mark walked out. George gave him a look that said, “You won’t believe this.”

  “Another possible link is a Chinese girl found dead, beaten. She was dragged from the river last night, Docklands area. That’s the area where Bishop lived,” said Fran. “The CIA and FBI are searching his apartment and embassy office as we speak.”

  “Wally was right,” said George.

  “Yes, we just have to find the evidence. In the meantime, they’re still scouring all the laptops and phones from Edgewood,” said Fran. “And the money trail.”

  “What do you think of Adams?” asked George.

  “Doubtful. I think he was caught totally by surprise,” said Fran. “He hates Chen. They have a history, and not a good one. It makes sense that she set up the dead drop in his email drafts, or someone did. He left a trail of women he’d screwed, so to speak.”