Dead End

by Brian Freemantle

  ‘Who’d the photographs go to?’

  ‘They had a cellphone number, listed under a phoney name. They called it and Johnson came immediately to pick up what they had.’

  ‘You got copies?’ asked Jackson.

  Pullinger looked at Parnell again. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What – who – do they show?’

  ‘It’s a little …’ started Pullinger, awkwardly.

  ‘Beverley,’ anticipated Parnell. ‘There would have been some photographs of Beverley.’

  ‘It’s not a secret, Ed,’ dismissed Jackson. ‘What about others?’

  ‘There aren’t any others,’ said Pullinger. ‘And surveillance has been pulled off.’

  ‘They were supposed to be looking for people stalking Richard, not Richard himself. Or who went into his apartment,’ said Jackson. ‘Grant lied, like Johnson lied.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Pullinger, as immediately as before. ‘But about what? Lying to the FBI isn’t a crime in itself. If it was, the entire state of Texas would be concreted over, for one great big federal penitentiary.’

  ‘I can’t believe this!’ protested Parnell. ‘I can’t believe you can do nothing, about all that’s happened … a murder, for Christ’s sake! Barry only saved me by … by …’

  ‘A good memory, not a fluke,’ completed the lawyer, unoffended. To Pullinger he said: ‘If you’ve got to accept Johnson’s explanation about the flight number, there’s no cause any more for FBI involvement.’

  ‘No, not unless there’s any evidence of conspiracy across State borders.’

  ‘Which you haven’t got,’ said Jackson. ‘Who takes over the murder enquiry? It can’t be Metro DC. I’m suing the two arresting officers. The entire department could come under investigation again, just like in 1996.’

  ‘I can’t work it out, and I’m glad it’s the Attorney General’s headache, not mine,’ said Pullinger.

  ‘Wait a minute!’ demanded Parnell. ‘The Bureau, with all its facilities and expertise, are at a dead end, and it could easily be ruled it’s no longer an FBI investigation anyway. The police department who would normally be responsible are disqualified. You can’t guess – and the Attorney General hasn’t decided – who should take over. Is that it?’

  ‘That’s it,’ accepted Pullinger. ‘But we haven’t been ruled out yet.’

  ‘You going to disclose the flight-number explanation to the Department of Homeland Security and the Attorney General?’ asked Jackson.

  ‘We’re mandated to do so,’ said Pullinger. ‘Can you imagine what the Bureau would be hit with if it was announced it was withdrawing from an investigation that’s got as much media attention as this has, in which it had no need to be in the first place? We’d be ankle-deep in blood.’

  ‘No one’s going to be caught, for Rebecca’s murder, are they?’ said Parnell, weak-voiced in acceptance at what he was being told. ‘No one’s ever going to know why Rebecca was murdered … by whom … they’re going to get away with it. Whoever killed Rebecca and tried to get me convicted of it are going to get away, Scot free.’

  ‘I said we hadn’t been taken off the enquiry yet. The thinking at the Hoover building at the moment is that it’s better to take the heat we are getting for not making any progress than use Johnson’s flight-number explanation as a way of getting out.’

  ‘What are you more worried about – concerned with! Justice? Or saving the fucking FBI any more embarrassment?’ exploded Parnell.

  ‘Both, equally,’ said Pullinger, calmly. ‘If we could get the first, we’d achieve the second. I’ve just tried to explain the difficulties.’

  ‘We appreciate it,’ thanked the more controlled Jackson.

  ‘You got any hearing date? Preliminaries, even?’ asked Pullinger.

  Jackson didn’t immediately reply, looking steadily at the other lawyer, before saying: ‘We’re getting close to disclosures.’

  ‘Obviously nothing that I’ve told you today can be included,’ said Pullinger.

  ‘Obviously,’ acknowledged Jackson. ‘Have you ever heard of investigating FBI officers being called as supplementary witnesses, after the emergence of evidence unknown at the time of disclosure?’

  ‘Don’t think I ever have,’ admitted Pullinger.

  ‘Anything in the FBI charter that would preclude it?’

  ‘I’d need to check, but nothing comes immediately to mind.’

  ‘It was good of you to come, Ed – fill us in on a few things,’ thanked Jackson again. ‘I’d welcome your letting us know if your guys get officially withdrawn.’

  ‘You’ll know the moment I know,’ promised the FBI attorney. To Parnell he said: ‘I’m sorry it’s worked out like this.’

  ‘Not as sorry as I am,’ said Parnell.

  ‘You sure there’s no way the FBI could have intercepted the call?’ demanded Edward Grant.

  Johnson smiled, enjoying the other man’s rarely betrayed worry. ‘I gave Clarkson the call-box number in an envelope sealed in a way that could be recognized if you knew how. Which he didn’t. He gave it to Pete Bellamy’s dyke lawyer, to pass on unopened. When I rang Pete from my call box, I told him how to recognize the seal. It hadn’t been broken.’

  ‘What if one of the lawyers tells the Bureau?’

  ‘Lawyer-client confidentiality,’ replied Johnson, easily.

  Grant smiled, relieved. ‘That’s good. You’re good.’

  ‘That’s what you employ me – and pay me – to be.’

  ‘You’ll find out how grateful I am when this is all over.’

  ‘Which it will be,’ promised Johnson. ‘Baldwin filled me in on your meeting and Pete says he and Helen haven’t given anything away – nothing that helps any case against us, anyway …’ The hesitation was for effect. ‘There’s still the civil case against them, of course. If they lose that, it could cost them their jobs.’

  ‘You got another call-box to call-box arrangement?’

  ‘In a couple of days. I told Pete I was coming up to see you.’

  ‘Tell him – and get him to tell the woman – they’ll be well looked after.’

  ‘They’ll appreciate that,’ said Johnson.

  ‘You don’t think there could be a problem with your coming up here?’

  ‘What problem? I’m your head of security. The Bureau know we talk – that I come here sometimes. I flew up using my own name, came in the front door and used the public elevator. The curiosity would have been if I hadn’t come up, after they came here.’

  ‘I didn’t like that, the FBI coming here … questioning me like they did.’ The small man flicked at his deep-brown suit, as if dislodging some unwelcome speck.

  And it’s showing all over your sweaty face, thought the security chief. ‘This hasn’t been good. Too much was done with insufficient thought and insufficient discussion.’

  ‘Baldwin told you what I said to them, about putting Parnell under surveillance?’

  Johnson nodded. ‘They haven’t come back to me, to check it out …’ Enjoying himself unsettling a man who so much enjoyed unsettling others, he added: ‘Something else that didn’t have sufficient thought or discussion.’

  ‘They sprang it on me, for Christ’s sake! You should have guessed they’d tap your phones!’

  He should, Johnson supposed. ‘I didn’t think they’d go that far – believe they had enough to apply for the order. In the end there was no damage.’

  ‘If they had enough for the order, perhaps they’ve got enough to charge you!’ suggested Grant, in fresh alarm.

  ‘With what, forgetfulness?’ jeered Johnson. ‘I’ve been through it every which way with Clarkson. They’ve got nothing.’

  ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Just that. Nothing. We carry on doing our jobs and let their investigation run into the ground.’ And from now on I’m king of the castle and you’re a dirty old rascal, he thought. ‘So stop worrying, Ed, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ said Grant, without objecting to the familiarity.

&
nbsp; The love-making over, Parnell and Beverley lay side by side in the darkness of her apartment bedroom, hand in hand.

  ‘You know what’s creepy?’ she said. ‘It’s learning that we were being watched – photographed – without knowing it. It’s like being … being violated.’

  ‘And I was supposed to be taking extra care, watching my own back all the time!’

  ‘I’m sick to my stomach at the possibility of there being no prosecution for Rebecca’s murder!’

  ‘I’m even sicker.’

  ‘What are you going to do, if there isn’t a prosecution?’

  ‘I haven’t decided.’

  ‘What about immediately? The vice-president offer? I thought you had to decide before the stockholders’ meeting?’

  ‘I told Grant today that I’ll take it.’

  Beverley was silent for several moments. ‘I’m surprised.’

  ‘I’m sure we’re going the right way with a SARS vaccine. And I don’t want to give up on avian flu, either.’

  ‘I’m still surprised.’

  ‘For surprised should I read disappointed?’

  ‘Yes, after what the FBI lawyer told you,’ she said, bluntly.

  ‘We don’t definitely know that there isn’t going to be a prosecution. If there is, I have to be here. If I’m definitely told nothing’s going to happen, I’ll think some more about it.’

  Beverley took her hand from his and turned away from him in the darkness.

  Thirty-Six

  ‘I knew you’d accept,’ said Edward Grant.

  ‘I needed to think,’ said Parnell.

  ‘Of course you did,’ patronized Grant, at the penthouse window looking out over the financial heart of the world. ‘And you came to the right decision.’

  ‘I bought some shares, to qualify for the stockholders’ meeting, before you invited me.’

  ‘Then you bought in cheap. Got a good deal.’

  ‘I hope it turns out that way.’

  ‘The board have agreed the terms I offered you.’ said Grant, turning back to a package on his desk. ‘There’s your new contract, setting out the salary and the stock options for your lawyer to look over. Ours already have. All you’ve got to do, if your guy agrees, is to sign it.’

  ‘It’s all happened very quickly.’

  ‘We’ve only got one priority now – restoring confidence. Your name – your publicly being here – is important in beginning that process. And maintaining it.’

  ‘You know I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘There’s going to be a media release, to coincide with my announcement of your appointment. Not just here, worldwide.’

  ‘I spoke to Wayne Denny, about Dwight,’ said Parnell. ‘Thought I might go out to see him. Wayne said he didn’t think he was well enough.’

  ‘He isn’t,’ said Grant, at once. ‘Won’t be, for a long time. I’ve got a lot to say about Dwight later.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘You’ve been through a hell of a time too, Dick. And come out well.’

  ‘It’s dragging on.’

  ‘You really sure, about suing those two sons of bitches?’

  ‘My lawyer thinks I’ve got a good case. I’m doing it on his advice.’

  ‘I’m thinking about Dubette. All the publicity it’ll stir up again.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it from that point of view.’

  ‘Think about it over the next little while,’ urged the president. ‘You know what I’d like, for us all? I’d like an out-of-court settlement offer, a public apology from the Metro force, and for that to be the end of it, all forgotten in a week. It would go a long way towards the healing process, restoring the confidence I was talking about.’

  Parnell shrugged. ‘The offer would have to come from the other side.’

  ‘Your attorney could suggest it to theirs. That’s how these things are done. I’d really appreciate it – Dubette would really appreciate it.’

  ‘I’ll talk it through with him.’

  ‘Tell him that’s how you want it to be. He’s working for you, remember.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Let me know how it goes.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘That’s how it’ll be, from now on. You and I talking together. Direct.’

  ‘I’ve got a lot to learn.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have offered you the position if I hadn’t thought you could hack it.’

  ‘I hope it doesn’t cause any resentment at McLean.’

  ‘You’re the man there now. Complete control, my complete confidence. Whatever you need to do to establish yourself, do it. You want some words of real wisdom?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘No one likes the man in charge, because he’s the man in charge and everyone else thinks they can do his job better. Never worry about not being loved. Enjoy being disliked and proving them all wrong.’

  ‘I’ll remember that.’

  ‘I thought about bringing you on stage, when I make the announcement. But I don’t think that would be right.’

  ‘I don’t think so either,’ agreed Parnell. ‘Particularly not in the circumstances … Dwight, I mean.’

  ‘But I’ve had a place kept, near the front. When I announce the appointment, I’d like you to stand up … be recognized. There’ll be some media there.’

  ‘Good job I’m not wearing the yellow sweater.’ Parnell was, in fact, in a conservative blue, Ivy-League suit, the first he’d bought at Brooks Bros.

  Grant’s face clouded, then cleared as the recollection came. ‘That’s a long time ago. A misunderstanding. You’re part of the family now.’

  ‘Part of the family,’ echoed Parnell.

  ‘There’s an invitation-only reception after the meeting. You’re on the list, of course.’

  ‘I’ll see you there.’

  ‘There are some people I’m looking forward to introducing you to.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting them,’ said Parnell.

  It was a stop-start journey up a traffic-clogged Sixth Avenue from Wall Street, but Parnell was still among the first to arrive. The acceptance had been enormous, because of the publicity and its effect upon the stock valuation of the company, and the ballroom had been taken over. Parnell shuffled forward in the queue, the formal admission ticket his stockholding allowed him in hand. As soon as his name was recognized he was escorted to a reserved aisle seat in the fourth row from the front. The noise increased as the room gradually filled behind him. Once, Parnell swivelled, trying to estimate how many people there would be, but gave up trying. There was a central aisle, against which he was sitting, with two passages on either side of the seated area. In each were already established men with cordless microphones for when the meeting was thrown open to questioning from the floor. One was directly in front of the temporary stage, beneath a podium. Parnell ignored the prepared reports awaiting him on his chair. He considered opening his contract package but decided against that, too. Three tiered rows of seats were set out on the stage and he guessed the rear two were for the members of the overseas subsidiary boards, almost immediately confirmed when the raised area began to be occupied and he recognized Henri Saby from the Washington seminar.

  Edward C. Grant led the parent board on to the dais, looking expectantly out into the slowly silencing hall. He did not sit but strode at once to the podium-mounted microphone, his prepared speech – which was not among the already distributed papers – in hand. There was an abrupt blaze of camera and television lights and Parnell was instantly reminded of his court appearance and the midtown press conference.

  Grant arranged his papers in front of him on the angled stand, but made no attempt to start, staring out into the room until it became totally quiet. When it did, he smiled and said: ‘Good morning and thank you all for coming.’

  He did not look down to his speech, appearing not to need it. Dubette had endured a turbulent year, due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control. A respected and admired member of sta
ff had been savagely murdered, another briefly wrongly accused, about neither of which he could comment, because of ongoing investigations and possibly impending court actions. The adverse publicity had severely affected stock value, which he understood to be the concern of everyone in the room. There was no need for that concern. Dubette, as an international pharmaceutical conglomerate, remained as strong as it had ever been, and he was confident it would recover its value in the coming year. As an indication of that confidence the dividend this year would be an increase of five per cent upon the last, the funds coming from their more than adequate reserves. There were to be important changes within Dubette. It was with great personal as well as professional regret that he had to announce the premature retirement, on health grounds, of Dwight Newton, who, as vice president responsible for research and development, had made an incalculable contribution to the commercial success of Dubette Inc. over the past twenty years. He was sure the meeting would join him in wishing Newton a speedy recovery and contented retirement.

  Grant had spoken looking towards the rear of the room. Now he looked down directly to where he knew Parnell was sitting. ‘At our annual meeting last year, I announced the intention of establishing a pharmacogenomics division. From media releases since that time, you will all be aware that Dubette were successful in recruiting the world-renowned English geneticist Professor Richard Parnell to head that division. It is with great pleasure, personal pride and expectation of an enormous contribution to the continuing success of Dubette that I today announce that Dwight Newton’s position as head of research and development has been offered to Professor Parnell…’ Grant stepped to the side of the podium, gesturing for Parnell to stand. ‘… whom I am introducing to you today …’

  There was another glare of camera lights as Parnell dutifully stood but moved immediately to the waiting man with the cordless microphone standing directly beneath Grant. Turning back into the packed hall as he snatched the microphone from the startled man, Parnell said: ‘Offered as a bribe for my not making public the fact that Dubette is knowingly inflicting harm, in some cases killing, hundreds of people by not recalling badly manufactured medicines …’