Kathryn moved quickly to gather up the contents of her folder. “I’m sorry I lost my cool before. It won’t happen again. Before you can say it, Charles, I am focused.”
In spite of himself, Charles smiled. When he had the women’s attention, he started to press buttons on his computer. Lady Justice faded away to be replaced with a series of photographs of Michael Lyons from the moment he set foot in Hollywood until the present day. The women stared at the pictures but refrained from making comments as year after year in the growth of Hollywood’s Golden Boy filled the large screen.
“As you can see, Mr. Lyons is a very handsome man. On the big screen he plays athletic, virile heroes. He’s played just about every type of character there is, even a priest. He won an Academy Award for his performance in Sins of My Family where he played the part of a priest. His performance was so sterling, he was invited to Rome to visit the pope.
“I’ve had to enlist the aid of some of my…my old friends to get the information we need. I was only partially successful until last week when I managed to secure the passwords to his very private e-mail accounts. I’m still working on those and will have them ready to include in your folders in a day or so. They are not…enjoyable reading.
“I’ve been able to trace some of Mr. Lyons’s early activities when he emerged onto the Hollywood scene. The money and the fame came very quickly to him. He had it all by his mid-20s, which is when he started to look…for other forms of…gratification. He started wearing disguises and frequenting sex clubs. The sex clubs appeared to be profitable so he branched out. He realized, I suppose, that if anyone found out, he would no longer be Hollywood’s Golden Boy. He became a voice in the business that no one knew. At first he used his own money but as the money started to pour into his sex clubs, whose membership, by the way, was a hundred thousand dollars a year, he managed to separate the two. Any one club could have as many as two hundred sick, perverted clients. From his 30s to his 40s he owned—or various holding companies and corporations owned—twenty such establishments. I’ll leave it up to you to do the math.
“Lyons’s customers all had different fantasies that he catered to. Depending on the perversion, the client was charged extra. Money poured in like a tsunami. The demands were so high that Lyons was forced to go overseas for his…victims. He bought human beings, mostly young women like Yoko’s mother. He didn’t stop with the young girls. He bought children for his pedophile clients. Pure and simple, Lyons operated a slave ring. There was no such thing as medical care, decent food or shelter. These poor souls were used, abused and discarded, where they eventually died of one disease or another. Those that tried to get away were always caught and simply disappeared, never to be heard from again. A very few out of the thousands the man brought to this country got their freedom. Yoko’s mother was one of the very few who died on the outside when her aunts found her baby and did the best they could for her.
“Actor Lyons is his own best customer. He has an affinity for tiny Asian women. Some of the women he brings to his harems, for want of a better word, are his special property, where he will single out one or another and actually take them into his home and pretend they are servants. He uses them for a while, then, when he gets tired of them, he puts them on the sex circuit or sells them to some of his sick friends. I could go on and on about his perversion but I think you are all getting the message here. Actor Lyons, as of today, is still flourishing. Right now he is between pictures. This is when he heads to foreign countries where he buys his victims. He does this twice a year. Do any of you have any questions?”
Alexis leaned forward. “Don’t any of the families complain when they don’t hear from their children?”
“Who would they complain to, Alexis? Selling one’s offspring, even in foreign countries, is against the law. Lyons has a secure operation. He’s an absolute wizard at covering his tracks.”
“Not true,” Isabelle said. “You infiltrated his organization. Obviously, it’s not impenetrable.”
“Only because I was able to tap into old friendships, enlist the aid of others’ expertise. On my own, I could never have done it. Some of the information is suspect, but taken as a whole everything I’ve told you holds up and fits into the man’s profile.”
“Is Yoko’s mother the only woman who got pregnant? How did that happen?” Annie asked.
“The usual way, my dear. I’m sure there were others, since Actor Lyons doesn’t appear to be a man who practices birth control. From what I’ve been able to gather, should a pregnancy occur, the woman is sent out on the circuit until she simply dies. There are no files, no details of children being born that we’ve been able to come up with. Yoko is the exception. I’m not saying there aren’t others, just that we couldn’t trace any.”
“The man is a murderer,” Nikki said.
“Yes, he is, Nikki.”
“If he’s going to start traveling to…to buy more victims, how are we going to get him?” Kathryn demanded.
“I’m working on it as we speak, Kathryn. That’s my job. Your job now is to come up with a punishment that will satisfy Yoko. We’ll meet up again tomorrow at the same time.”
Myra ended the meeting. The others followed her from the room, more sober and thoughtful than they’d ever been in their lives.
The occupant of the wheelchair stared at the two reporters with hate-filled eyes. His gaze swiveled to his wife, Paula, who was watching his every move and listening to the conversation. He knew he would be wasting his time asking her to leave. Instead, he glared at Maggie Spritzer and Ted Robinson. “I no longer work for the United States government, as you can see. I have nothing to say to either one of you. My wife made a mistake inviting you into the house.”
Spritzer, ever mouthy and never shy, said, “But you said you would talk to us. Why did you change your mind? Don’t you want to see the people who put you in that chair brought to justice? We can tell you who they are but we can’t prove it. Did something happen to change your mind?”
Paula Woodley, the ex–National Security Advisor’s wife, gin and tonic in her hand, spoke. “My dear husband has mood swings. One day he’s gung ho and the next day he just wants to wallow in self-pity. I don’t think he knows anything that can help you. And, no, he doesn’t want to know who put him in that chair. The reason he doesn’t want to know is because the FBI and the DOJ were here a few days ago and while they were quite nice, they were equally firm about my husband accepting his tragic accident and getting on with his life. It will be dark soon so you should leave now. I’m asking you nicely not to come back and if you call, I’ll hang up on you. We don’t talk to the press. Ever.”
Ted ignored the woman and her little speech. “But, sir…Even though we don’t have hard proof, my associate and I have information that would allow you to seek justice. What and who are you afraid of? I can get you protection 24/7. The administration owes you that much.”
The man in the chair laughed, a bitter, hateful sound. His wife joined in before she drained her gin and tonic.
Maggie Spritzer had a sense of déjà vu. The Sisterhood at work. Either that or she had just slipped down the rabbit hole. Who were these people? They both looked deranged to her. Maybe it would be a good idea to leave. She tugged at Ted’s sleeve.
Ted wasn’t about to give up. He wasn’t afraid of the dark and he didn’t share Maggie’s feelings about the rabbit hole. According to Jack Emery, he was also stupid.
“There’s a first time for everything, Mrs. Woodley,” Ted said, ignoring the tug on his sleeve. “How is it possible that you and your husband don’t care to know who put your husband in that chair? Don’t you want to see the guilty parties punished?”
Ted shivered at Mrs. Woodley’s eerie laughter. “The answer to your question, Mr. Robinson, is no.”
It took Ted a full minute to come to terms with the woman’s response and the eerie laughter. Jesus Christ, did this weird woman pay those kooks at Pinewood to beat up her husband?
; Maggie tugged at his sleeve again. Ted started walking toward the door. He turned back and handed Karl Woodley his business card. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you change your mind.”
As Ted urged Maggie forward, she turned around in time to see Mrs. Woodley snatch the card out of her husband’s hand and tear it to shreds. “Open the damn door, Ted, and get us out of here before…those strange people do something to us.”
Outside, Ted looked around, trying to come to terms with what had just transpired. “Are those people crazy or what? What’s with that guy, anyway? Shit, I heard some of the rumors way back when, that said he was a wife beater but I didn’t believe it. She certainly appears to be in total control now. The guy hates her and is scared to death of her. Didn’t you see it?”
“Yeah, I did see it. Hey, if he was beating her up, I’m on her side,” Maggie said. “The guy’s a real shithead.”
“Well, if it’s true that he beat on her, then maybe she’s the one who hired those women at Pinewood. I bet that’s exactly what happened.”
“If true, you aren’t going to get anything out of her. By the way, don’t wait for Woodley to call you. She snatched your card out of his hands and tore it up.”
“Oh, shit, don’t tell me that.”
“I saw her do it, Ted. Now what?”
Ted took a deep breath. “If bad comes to worse I might have to suck up to Jack Emery.”
“Bad move, Ted. Don’t go there.”
“We’ll see,” Ted said. “No promises.”
Chapter 8
Maggie Spritzer stood at the living room window of her new apartment watching the falling snow and the snarled traffic moving inch by inch up the road. From her position behind the window it looked like the drivers were fighting a losing battle. She liked snow, unlike Ted, who hated it. She was angry and trying to conquer her feelings by watching the snow. It wasn’t working.
“Look, Ted, I think I’ve had enough of those women out at Pinewood. Everything we’ve done, and we’ve done some scary things, just isn’t cutting it. They’re too damn powerful.”
Ted squirmed around so he could face his partner and lover. “Even powerful people can be toppled. You can’t get away with breaking the law forever. Sooner or later someone like me is going to bring it all into the open.”
“You’re obsessed, Ted. You had me mesmerized. I thought we could get the goods on them but they thwart us at every turn. It’s not going to happen. We have to move on. Look, we got our jobs back at the Post. Let’s not jeopardize them. I want to grow old so I can wear outlandish getups and do outrageous things that I can blame on being old and crotchety. You need to think about the fact that we defied Charles Martin and left New York. Now, that bothers me.
“Another thing, I really like this apartment. It’s big and we can afford it. You can’t beat having two bathrooms, a decent kitchen and an office, and it’s a doorman building. I feel safe here. Are you listening to me, Ted?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening. How many times do I have to tell you this is Pulitzer Prize stuff.” He looked around, eying the cartons that were stacked everywhere. The game plan had been to unpack the boxes three days ago but that hadn’t happened. Ted wondered if he should suggest it just so Maggie would shut up.
“Why do you think the NSA blew us off? Last week he was all set to cooperate and then he switches up? Do you think it’s the wife or the fact that those guys behind the initials paid him a visit? Boggles my mind that a man like him could be scared off. He’s got to be one sick dude not to want to know who put him in that wheelchair. He’s no longer on the government dole. As a private citizen he has rights.”
Maggie laughed bitterly. “Yeah, like we had rights when Charles Martin forced us to relocate to New York. That man and the people behind him stomped and trampled our rights and no one did a damn thing about it. You were as scared as I was and don’t deny it, Ted. So the NSA is scared. He’s not going to open up since he’s been warned and that wife of his watches him like a hawk. That lady is in control. You just backed the wrong horse, you should have gone after her but it’s too late now.”
Ted eyed one of the cartons that said KITCHEN on it. Maybe he should unpack it so Maggie could cook a decent meal. He was sick of Chinese and fast food. He decided he was too tired to unpack anything. Arguing with Maggie was about all he could handle. “Why are you always so negative?”
Maggie brushed at her wild bush of hair, finger-combing it before she pulled it back into a ponytail. She clenched her teeth. “Because there is nothing to be positive about, that’s why. You came up dry from that stakeout in Lafayette Park and then again at the Lincoln Memorial. Can we just move on, Ted?”
“No, Maggie, we can’t simply move on. You’re right, I am obsessed. I did not exactly come up dry when I staked out Charles Martin. Whatever he was doing he needed a disguise to do it. The man he met was also disguised. They weren’t even good disguises. That tells me dirty work is afoot. And I thought I heard the name Lyons, or maybe it was Lynus, and the Lincoln Memorial mentioned. I grant you I don’t know what it means or who Lyons or Lynus is. They’re both common names. On the other hand, it could be a place. I thought a meeting of some kind was scheduled for the Memorial but, as you know, I staked it out and Martin was a no-show and I didn’t see the other guy, either. After four days I had to give up. Hell, for all I know it could have been a late-night meeting. Or, I just thought I heard what I think I heard. I admit I was psyched so anything is possible.”
“I guess that’s another way of you saying you’re not giving up,” Maggie snapped.
Ted stroked his two cats who were sitting in his lap. “Yeah, that’s what it means, Maggie. Look, that guy Martin scared the piss out of both of us. We went running with our tails between our legs. Well, I’m done running. That guy isn’t going to tell me what to do. If he blows the whistle on us, I’ll take the fall and do jail time, but my mouth will be going a hundred miles an hour. I’ll do my best to keep you out of it. I’m running a computer check on the name Lyons as well as Lynus. There’s a kazillion of them in the database.”
“Then why bother? It’s got to be a dead end.”
“It’s not like I have a lot to do, dear heart. I want to run something by you. Tell me what you think.”
Maggie looked around the living room at the stacked cartons. “We should start to unpack these. I’m not going to like whatever it is you want my opinion on, right?”
“Negativism is not becoming even in someone as beautiful as you are. We have all weekend to unpack those boxes. Fetch us a beer and some munchies first, though, okay? I’d get it but Minnie and Mickey are asleep and I don’t want to disturb them.”
Maggie snorted as she made her way to the kitchen. She wished she could shake the anger she was feeling. She wasn’t even sure what she was angry about. Ted? Charles Martin? Circumstances in general? Maybe it was something as simple as missing her dog, Daisy Mae, who her mother was taking care of.
Maggie handed a beer to Ted along with a bag of onion-flavored potato chips. “Let’s hear whatever it is I’m not going to like.”
Ted stuffed his mouth with chips and then washed them down with a slug of beer. “Just hear me out, and don’t say anything until I finish. What do you think about me going to see Aaron Frist and telling him our story? I know he’s retired but he ran the Post for a hundred years. I revere the man. I’ll lay it all out to him, all the things we did, why we did them, the whole ball of wax. That man cannot be intimidated. He doesn’t have a problem thumbing his nose at the administration. He’ll help us if he thinks we’re on to something. We need someone in front of us, Maggie, someone with clout. That paper has been in his family for generations. Just because he stepped down doesn’t mean he isn’t keeping his hand in things.”
“If he tells you you’re nuts, will you back off and leave it alone?”
“Well, yeah. He is/was the head guru.”
“He’s going to want to see our notes, our files. Martin confisca
ted everything. You don’t have anything to show him.”
“That’s true but I have a good memory and so do you. We’ll spin it out like a story. If we’re onto something, he’ll smell it. I even know where he lives. I was there for his retirement party. It was before you came to the paper.”
“They say he was a holy terror.”
“Among other things. He was tough as rawhide but fair. He knew everyone’s name at the paper right down to the janitor. He even knew the kids’ names of his employees. Always asked about them. He’s probably one of the smartest people in this country. A week didn’t go by that he wasn’t invited to the White House. And he knows everyone. When you first meet him you walk away thinking you just made a good friend. I think he’ll listen, Maggie. He’ll like being back in the game even if it’s just to offer advice. If he doesn’t like my story there’s every possibility he’ll kick my ass all the way to the Pennsylvania Turnpike. So, are you with me or not?”
Maggie pretended to think. “I’m with you if you swear on my life, your mother’s life, the life of these two cats, my dog, my mother’s life, the pope’s life and the life of every single relative in your family that you will walk away if Frist tells you to take a hike.”
Ted stretched his long, lanky frame. “You drive a hard bargain, Maggie Spritzer. Yeah, okay. I sure could use another beer.”
“Yeah, I could, too. It’s your turn.”
Ted was no fool. He shifted the cats to their own cushion before he got up. “Let’s go early tomorrow morning. He retired to his summer home he has up on the Chesapeake. He hardly ever comes into the District these days.”
“How old is this guy?” Maggie asked curiously.
“Eighty on his last birthday. Walks five miles a day, plays a little tennis if his knees permit, and he does the Times crossword puzzle every week. I made it my business to study up on that guy because I knew a day like this was going to come. I’ll tell you all about him tomorrow on the drive. Let’s fool around.”
7. Free Fall Page 7