The two young men came out of their closet and shook hands with Cassidy. Hauser was tall, thin, dark, and studious, with horn-rimmed glasses and thinning hair. Steadman was fair and stockier, and he carried himself with an assurance Hauser did not have.
‘We don’t usually talk about what goes on in the congressman’s office without his say so,’ Steadman said.
‘My brother’s gone missing. I’m trying to find out where he was, who he met, what he talked about.’
The two young men looked at each other. ‘We don’t know what they said,’ Steadman said. ‘We weren’t in his office. But he asked us to bring in whatever research we had on who had lobbied him over the last eighteen months and who had contributed to his coming re-election campaign.’
‘I’d like to look at the material.’
‘I’m sorry, Detective, but we couldn’t do that without Congressman Williams’s permission.’
‘Okay. Can you tell me this, were there any obvious overlaps, people who contributed and also lobbied?’
The two aides exchanged a look. Steadman shook his head and smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Do any of you have any idea where my brother was headed after he left here.’
Neither one knew anything about Brian’s movements, and after a few more questions, they went back to their desk. Cassidy offered the secretary a cigarette, but she refused it. ‘I don’t smoke.’
‘How did Brian seem to you? Agitated? Nervous?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Do you think he might have gotten sick or something?’
‘I don’t know. He hasn’t been seen by anyone I know since he was here.’
‘Jeez, I’m sorry. I mean, if my sister was missing, I’d be worried sick.’ She twisted the pencil in her hand and looked toward the small office where the two aides were again in heated conversation. ‘If I tell you something, you won’t tell anyone, will you?’
‘No. I promise.’
She lowered her voice. ‘When he called for his appointment, he asked how long it would take to walk here from K Street.’
‘K Street?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he mention who he was seeing there?’
She glanced at the two aides in their office. ‘Jeremy and Andrew take everything so seriously. Every little thing that goes on in the office is super secret. The government might fall, or something, if anyone knew what the congressman had for breakfast.’
Cassidy waited while she worked up to telling him what she wanted him to know.
‘There’s a company on K Street that contributed to the Congressman’s re-election campaign, and Congressman Williams gave the money back, because he thought there was a conflict of interest. He’s very strict about things like that.’
‘A medical company? Brian mentioned that.’
‘Gallien Medical. I could give you the address, but you have to promise not to tell.’
‘And you think my brother saw him.’
‘I heard him say he had just come from there when I took him into the congressman’s office.’
A silver Rolls-Royce was parked in front of a six-story granite block building on K Street where the taxi dropped Cassidy. The brass-bound elevator carried Cassidy up to the fifth floor. Gallien Medical was identified by gold script on a pebbled-glass door. The waiting room was furnished with aggressively modern pieces. There were abstract art prints on the walls framed in chrome, and the chrome standing lamps looked like industrial accidents. The receptionist sat behind a desk with no straight lines. The top was an off-center oval of blond wood, and the thin ebony legs were bowed. The receptionist was a striking blond woman wearing a steel-gray suit with broad shoulder pads and lapels cut on a radical bias and a light gray blouse made of metallic cloth. The three pins on her jacket looked like silver shrapnel. The buttons were jagged red Bakelite shards. She wore glasses with heavy black round rims. ‘May I help you?’ she asked in a cool voice reserved for people who appeared without an appointment.
‘I’d like to speak to Mr Gallien.’
‘And you are?’
‘Michael Cassidy.’ He slipped the leather folder from his pocket and showed her his badge and ID. ‘My brother, Brian Cassidy, had an appointment with Mr Gallien yesterday. He’s gone missing, and I’m trying to trace his movements. I’d appreciate a minute of Mr Gallien’s time.’
The receptionist looked at Cassidy with bright blue eyes that missed no details. ‘He’s quite busy today, but I’ll go ask him. I’ll just be a minute.’ She got up and went through the door to the inner office.
Cassidy cocked a hip on the edge of the desk. The furnishings and the receptionist announced that this company was on the cutting edge of tomorrow. If you wanted to buy into the future, Gallien Medical was selling it today.
The receptionist came back out. ‘Mr Gallien will see you now.’
Harry Gallien had a round head, bald and shiny, and a round, symmetrical face, a tubular neck, a rounded chest and belly with no discernible waist. It was hard to tell his age, but Cassidy guessed he was in his forties. He wore a beautiful dark blue silk suit hand tailored to disguise the peculiarities of his body, a cream-colored shirt with gold-and-sapphire cufflinks, and a bright yellow-and-red Countess Mara tie. He smiled at Cassidy in welcome, and offered a soft, damp hand across the desk. Cassidy took it and then gave it back. Gallien waved Cassidy to a chrome-and-leather armchair.
A lot more money had been spent to furnish Gallien’s office than the outer room. Abstract oil paintings rather than prints filled the frames on the walls. The desk was a massive amoeba slab of steel. A strangely shaped ebony table held expensive liquor bottles. The air was faintly perfumed.
‘Tell me what I can do for you, Mr Cassidy. A cop. I don’t think I’ve ever met a real policeman before.’ His eyes twinkled.
‘You must lead an exemplary life.’
‘What? Oh, yes. I see. Never met a cop. Never been arrested. I see. I see. Very good. No. Not even a traffic ticket.’ He let out a warm chuckle. He was, apparently, a man of great good humor.
‘I think my brother came to see you.’
‘Yes. Brian Cassidy. A very interesting man. And charming. I watch his show religiously.’
‘Would you tell me what you talked about?’
‘Sure. Absolutely. He wanted to ask me about a donation I had made to a congressman’s campaign for re-election.’
‘Congressman Martin Williams.’
‘Of Utah. Exactly.’
‘What did Brian want to know?’
‘He was interested in why the congressman sent the check back.’
‘Why did he?’
‘Congressman Williams is a man of high principle, and he was afraid that taking my check might in some way suggest that he might be influenced in his vote on a question in front of the House.’
‘A question concerning Gallien Medical?’
‘Yes. Congressman Williams is on a subcommittee of the House Appropriations Committee. Do you know what the Appropriations Committee does? Simply put, it decides on how much money will be spent by the government and who gets what.’
‘How much was the check for?’
‘A thousand dollars.’ Gallien waited for a reaction.
‘The price of a pretty good used car.’ Cassidy took out a pack of Luckies and offered it across the desk. Gallien shook his head and pushed a crystal ashtray closer while Cassidy lit his cigarette. ‘Was that all Brian wanted?’
‘He wanted to know whether Gallien Medical made contributions to other congressmen or senators. Of course, we do. We are very much interested in the legislative process, and we want to help the process wherever we can.’
‘Has anyone else ever sent a check back?’
Gallien smiled. ‘No. These men understand that I’m not trying to buy their votes, I’m just supporting men who see the roles of government and business the way I do. That’s the joy of democracy. You have the freedom to support the people you want to support.’
‘Did Brian ask you for the names of other senators or congressmen you’ve contributed to?’
‘He did.’
‘Did you give him the names?’
‘I did not.’
‘Why not?’
‘It wasn’t any of his business.’
‘What does Gallien Medical do for the government?’
‘Research and development in the medical field. We have laboratories and manufacturing plants in Delaware. Were you in the war, Mr Cassidy?’
‘I was.’
‘Wounded?’
‘Yes.’
‘Gallien Medical supplied the sulfa drugs that stopped infection, the plasma, the morphine, the bandages; pretty much anything that kept you alive, we supplied.’
‘Thank you for that.’
Gallien waved it away. ‘Oh, we’re proud to have helped save young American lives. Proud. And I have to say, we made a dandy profit doing it. That’s the American way, what I call enlightened self-interest. Since the war things have been a bit sparser, a bit tighter. But we’re working on some research that we hope will have applications for the military and in the wider civilian world.’
‘And you’d like the government to fund that.’
‘America runs on business, Mr Cassidy. What’s good for business is good for America. The war was a terrible thing, but business thrived during it, and we came out of it as the most powerful nation on the planet, economically and militarily. We were a rather small company in 1940, but we are now one of the leading medical supply companies in the country. The war and its aftermath proved that business and government are joined like Siamese twins. They cannot be separated. And that’s a good thing, because, as we all know, we’re now at war with people who want to destroy us. We must be strong going forward.’
‘Did he mention any other appointments he had that day?’
‘No, he didn’t. I like your brother. He’s a straight shooter. I could tell that immediately. As I said, I watch his show and enjoy it immensely. He doesn’t always get it right, but who does?’
Cassidy stood up. ‘Thank you for your time.’
‘Not at all. It was my pleasure.’ Gallien stood. ‘I’m sure you’ll find that he ran into a friend or something and just lost track of the time.’ Again he offered his soft, damp hand. Cassidy shook it and returned it again. There was something about the texture and feel of the hand that made him want to wipe his own on his jacket. He turned to go.
‘This is America’s time, Mr Cassidy. America is going to thrive, and Gallien Medical is going to thrive with it.’
He left Gallien’s office and walked down the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. By the time he got to the bottom, he realized he liked the way Harry Gallien decorated his office, including the decorative secretary, but he did not like Harry Gallien much at all.
SEVENTEEN
Cassidy came out of the building onto K Street and stopped to light a cigarette. A big man in a leather jacket was at the curb admiring the interior of the Rolls-Royce. Cassidy was at a dead end. Brian’s trail was twenty-four hours cold. He had nowhere to go unless Sam Watkins had found something from the DC police. He found a phone booth on the corner, put a coin in the slot, and dialed. A man picked up on the fourth ring. ‘Sanderson, DCPD. Your dime, start talking.’
‘Is Sam Watkins there?’
‘No, he ain’t.’
‘Do you know where I can reach him?’
‘No, I don’t. He caught a squeal and went out of here like his ass was on fire. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Are you Cassidy?’
‘Yes.’
‘He said if you called, it looks like your brother’s over at Sibley Memorial.’
When Cassidy came out of the booth, the man in the leather jacket was still inspecting the Rolls. Cassidy hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to Sibley Memorial. He looked out the window as they drove through the city and tried to keep his mind blank about what had put his brother in the hospital. He would know soon enough.
Brian was asleep in the hospital’s open ward on the second floor. There was a bruise under his left eye, and his stubbled face was drawn, pale, and slack. He looked older than his years, diminished and weakened. Brian had always been the calm center in the family, unruffled, unbreakable. Cassidy had never seen him like this. The ward doctor’s name was Rowe. He read Cassidy’s dismay and put a comforting hand on his arm and said, ‘There’s nothing organically wrong that we can find. A few scrapes and bruises. We gave him a sedative, because he was terribly confused and anxious when they brought him in. They’re doing the blood work now. It might tell us something more.’
‘Who brought him in?’
‘A police car. They found him wandering over near Rock Creek Park. One of the cops recognized him from TV, that program he does once a week, what is it? Behind the Headlines. Detective Cassidy, does your brother tend to drink to excess?’ Rowe fiddled with the stethoscope around his neck while he talked.
‘No. He’s a social drinker. I haven’t seen him really drunk for years. Why?’
‘He was staggering, incoherent, and there was a strong smell of liquor about him.’
‘Did he say where he’d been?’
‘He said nothing we could understand. As I said, he was incoherent. Babbling. Occasionally throwing his arms around, not violently, but out of control and yelling. Once he jumped up while a nurse was drawing blood, and ran for the door. The orderlies had to restrain him.’
‘Maybe there’s something in his clothes that would tell us where’d he’d been, a matchbook from a bar, a receipt.’
‘He wasn’t wearing any clothes.’
‘What?’
‘He was naked. I’m sorry, I thought someone would have told you.’
The police report was clipped to a carbon copy of the hospital intake report. Two cops in a patrol car had found Brian wandering naked at the western edge of Rock Creek Park. He had been unable to identify himself or to explain what had happened to him. He smelled of alcohol. He had been admitted to the hospital at 12:24 am. The hospital intake report outlined the procedures that had been followed and noted that blood had been drawn and sent to the lab. Dr Rowe said it might be a couple of hours before Brian awoke, but that Cassidy was not to worry. Then he went off to make rounds.
Cassidy got a handful of change from the gift shop and called Marcy from a booth in the front lobby. He caught her as she was about to leave to pick up the girls from school. He told her what had happened and then listened to silence until he thought the phone was dead. ‘Marcy?’
‘I’m trying to take it in. Is he all right? Should I come? I can get Leah to take the girls, and I could be there by this evening. God, drunk? He doesn’t get drunk. And naked? Michael, what the hell happened? This isn’t Brian.’ She was trying to sound calm, but a spike of anxiety rose in her voice.
‘Marcy, he’s asleep. I’ll be here when he wakes up, and he can tell me what happened. The doctor says there is nothing really wrong with him, but he wants to keep him overnight. When he’s ready to go, he and I will catch a train home. There’s no need for you to come down. I’ll call you when he wakes up and let you know.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It’s up to you, but I’m here, and there’s nothing to do.’
‘All right. Call me, though. Please. Call me when he’s awake.’
‘The moment he’s up.’
Cassidy called Kay at home and told her what had happened. She said, ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ Cassidy went back upstairs. He pulled a chair close to Brian’s bed and sat where he could reach his brother’s hand where it lay on the cotton blanket. Brian’s chest rose and fell slowly with his breaths. Some color had come back into his face, but he still looked pale and drawn. What the hell had happened? Marcy was right; this was not how Brian behaved. Brian was the one who pulled Cassidy and their sister Leah back from the drop. What drove him off the rails?
Cassidy dozed.
He was awakene
d by a hand on his shoulder, and lurched back into consciousness.
Kay Lockridge stood by his chair. ‘I canceled my appointments.’
He rubbed his face. ‘I fell asleep.’
‘Yes. How is he?’
Brian had turned over on his side, the first movement Cassidy had seen. Maybe it was a sign that he was throwing off the sedative.
‘I don’t know. The doctor said he should wake up soon, but that he might be disoriented when he does.’ He found another chair and pulled it next to the bed.
Kay sat down and looked at Brian without expression for a moment and then sighed. ‘Have you seen the paper today?’
‘No.’
She had it folded in her lap and now she handed it to him. It was turned to the front page of the Metro section. There was a photograph above the fold. It showed Brian caught in the sudden glare of a camera flash. He was naked, crouched near bushes, staring terrified at the camera with black eyes like a wild animal. The story below the photograph reported that the prominent ABC Television reporter, Brian Cassidy, was found wandering near Rock Creek Park by a police patrol. The officers reported the subject was naked, dazed, and incoherent, and he smelled of alcohol. He was taken to a local hospital where he was sedated and kept for observation.
‘Jesus. What the hell was he doing way out there? How the hell did he get there like that? Naked.’ He stared at the photograph.
‘I don’t get the paper delivered to the house,’ Kay said. ‘It goes to the office. I don’t read the paper at breakfast. It’s too early in the day to let that crap intrude. Somebody left it on the front step. It was folded open to the Metro section. Someone was taking the trouble to make sure I saw it. I’ve made enemies over the years. In this town if you don’t have enemies, you’ve never taken a stand on anything. Someone wanted to make sure my day started off badly. It won’t hurt me. It’ll be a little bit embarrassing, because people will delight in talking to me about it, but it’s terrible for Brian. A man in his business depends on his reputation. Who’s going to believe reports from a drunk?’
Cassidy put the paper down. ‘Brian doesn’t get drunk.’
‘Oh, Michael, I know you love him and respect him, but everyone can stumble at some point.’
Night Watch Page 16