Jack Higgins - Dillon 07 - The White House Connection

by The White House Connection(lit)

  Her face said it all. It seemed to crumple, went very pale. 'Oh, my God.' She aged right there in front of them. 'I need the bathroom.'

  'Sure you do,' Harry Parker said. 'Only don't go trying the back door. I know who you are, so I'd have to send a squad car, and I'm sure your boss wouldn't like that.'

  She gave a dry sob as she got up, knocking over her coffee cup. She ran to the back of the coffee shop and one of the men came from behind the counter, a cloth in his hand, all belligerence.

  'Hey, what gives? She's a nice kid. You can't come in and interfere with my customers.'

  'I can close you down if I want.' Harry's gold badge appeared again. 'Police business.'

  'The young lady witnessed a crime,' Blake said. 'We just need a few questions answered.'

  The man's attitude changed completely. 'Hey, I'm Nick, this is my place. You want some coffee?'

  'Great,' Parker told him. 'That's what I like - cooperation.'

  The girl returned in a few minutes, still pale, but composed. There was a hint of steel there. This was no bimbo, Blake was certain of it. She sat down, and sipped some of the coffee Nick had brought.

  'Right, what do you want?'

  'A few details. Jean Wiley, am I right?' Parker said. 'Twenty-four?'

  'So?'

  'That's a neat scar on your left cheek. It'll fade with time, but it could make you look interestingly different.'

  She was angry, her eyes dark. Blake said, 'What do you do?'

  'I'm an associate at Weingarten, Moore just round the comer. I got my law degree from Columbia two years ago, so I know my rights, gentlemen.'

  'Hey, why are we being nice here?' Parker appealed to Blake and turned to the girl. 'You want to tell us how your blood got on to the shirt of a murdered man?'

  That really jolted her. She turned to Blake, startled, inquiring, and he said, 'Look, why fool around? Last week, two lowlifes were shot dead in an alley a few blocks from here, sometime after midnight.'

  'The thing is, one guy was blood group A and the other O,' said Parker.

  'Except there were traces of blood group B on his shirt,' Blake said.

  'Which obviously got there when he cut your cheek,' Parker told her. 'Probably as he held you and you struggled. I'm right, aren't I? Those two grabbed you as you walked past.'

  Her face was wild now, her voice low. 'Bastards. Dirty rotten bastards.' She took a deep breath and sipped some coffee, her hand shaking. 'It's a nice story, Captain, but I know my rights and I'm saying nothing.'

  'Hell, a DNA check would say everything.'

  Blake saw it all now, saw it as it must have been. It all came together. Dillon at Wapping in the Thames staring up at Tim Pat Ryan and certain death, and saved by the woman, the unknown executioner who had taken out the Sons of Erin one by one.

  'They intended to rape you, perhaps murder you,' Blake said softly. 'You struggled, you were threatened with a knife, your face was cut, and then a woman walked out of all that darkness and rain and shot them dead.'

  Parker turned to him, frowning. 'What is this?'

  But it was the girl who was most affected, total shock on her face. 'How did you know that?'

  There was total stillness between them. Blake said, 'Sometimes these things are like a jigsaw. You keep getting nowhere and then all the pieces fall into place and there it is, the complete picture.'

  Even Parker was gentle now. 'Tell us about her, honey.'

  'I can't,' she said. 'I'd rather die than see anything happen to that woman.'

  She was shaking. Blake turned and called to Nick. 'Can we have a brandy here? You carry that? Good. And fresh coffee, some of that black Turkish stuff?'

  She got her purse open, fumbled out a pack of cigarettes and dropped them. 'Damn!' she said. 'I'm supposed to have stopped.'

  'You, me and everyone else I know.' Blake got out his Marl-boros, lit one and passed it to her.

  'Just like Now Voyager.' She laughed nervously.

  'Yeah, he's really a very romantic guy.' Parker took the brandy from Nick and passed it to her. 'Get that down.' She did as she was told, coughed once then reached for the coffee. 'Best fix in the world,' Parker added. 'And it's legal.'

  'And here's something else that's legal,' Blake told her. 'Some-

  thing they probably only whispered about in your law courses.' He passed her the presidential warrant.

  She read it quickly and looked up at him in awe. 'My God.'

  'Which means that you could tell Captain Parker here that you killed those two guys and he couldn't do a thing about it.'

  She glanced at Parker. 'He's right, honey,' he said.

  She nodded and it was as if she was looking back into the past. 'You've no idea what it's like, you men, when you're a woman in a really bad situation. It's the worst thing in the world.' She shuddered. 'So dirty, so foul. It's like the end of everything.'

  'And then a guardian angel descends?' Blake suggested. 'Tell us about it.'

  'I was on a date that went wrong, a guy who lied, didn't tell me he was married. We were having supper at this Italian place a few blocks away, late supper after a show. He got drunk, let slip the fact that he had a little woman at home and a couple of kids. I ended up walking out.'

  'And you couldn't find a cab?' Parker said.

  'It was after midnight, but more than that, it was raining like hell, and when can you get a cab in Manhattan when it's raining?'

  'So you started walking?' Blake said.

  'In all my finery. I had a small umbrella, but I still got soaked. I was so angry, just storming along in a kind of rage, and then I passed this alley and there were voices shouting and then I was grabbed, hustled inside. One guy held me, the other cut my cheek with one of those spring blade knives.' She shuddered deeply. 'They kept saying what they were going to do. The language was foul.'

  'And then she appeared?' Blake asked.

  It was as if they weren't there, as if she was talking to herself. 'It was unbelievable. Her voice was so gentle. She told them to let me go. I could see her standing there in the entrance to the alley. One of them was holding me from behind and the other

  shouted at her, all threats, I can't recall the exact words, and he made a move, I think, and her hand came up with a hat on it and she shot him through the hat.'

  'A big explosion?' Parker asked.

  'No, sort of a muted sound.'

  'A silencer.' He nodded. 'And the other?'

  'He tried to use me as a shield, he had a knife, but she shot him in the head over my shoulder.'

  Parker turned to Blake. 'I'll tell you one thing, she must be good to risk a shot like that. And then there's the silencer. You were right, Blake. A pro in a way I hadn't realized.'

  Blake said, 'Tell me about her.'

  'That was the strange thing. She was a real lady. Could have been late sixties. She wore a rain hat, a trenchcoat, carried an umbrella. Her hair, what I could see of it, was white.'

  'Her face?'

  'Don't ask me to go through the photos. It would be a waste of time. I didn't see enough of her to make a positive identification, and I wouldn't.'

  'That's okay,' Blake said. 'I wouldn't ask you to. There's a lot to this that you'll never know, matters of national security. This is not a case that ever comes to court. The two guys she shot are just two more on a list of New York street killings never solved.'

  'So I won't be pulled in or anything?'

  'Absolutely not.' He turned to Parker. 'Please confirm that.'

  The police captain said, 'He's in charge, I'm only here to help in any way I can. I'm as much at the mercy of that presidential warrant as you are.'

  'I guarantee that your identity will be mentioned to no one,' Blake said. 'I will tell only the facts of this affair, even to the President, but you have my solemn oath that your name will never be mentioned.'

  'How about him?' She nodded to Parker.

  'Tell her, Harry,' Blake said.

  'Don't know what you're talking about,
honey,' Harry Parker told her. 'Never seen you before.'

  The two men got up. 'With luck, I won't need to speak to you again, Miss Wiley.' He turned and hesitated. 'Just one thing. What did she sound like?'

  'Oh, a lady, a real lady, like I said. You know the kind of person? Almost English.'

  'Are you saying she could be English?' Parker said.

  'Oh, no, just blue-blooded American, that kind of accent.'

  'You mean you could have bumped into her going round the designer rooms at Bergdorf Goodman?' Parker asked.

  'Or Harrods in London.' She shrugged. 'She was an upper-class lady, what more can I say?'

  'Good.' Parker nodded. 'Don't forget to get the restaurant to book you a cab next time,' and he led the way out.

  They stood there in the rain. Blake said, 'What do you think?'

  'It's the damnedest thing I ever heard of, Blake. You've got some angelic elderly lady out there like the President's mother, knocking off two lowlife rapists like she's an ageing Dirty Harry.'

  'Just like she did Tim Pat Ryan in London.'

  'And Brady, Kelly and Cassidy in New York, and probably Cohan in London. I told you, Blake, every policeman's instinct tells me this whole thing is very personal.'

  'I agree.'

  'I think there's more there to do with the Sons of Erin than you realize, but that isn't my problem, it's yours. According to your presidential warrant our lunch with the Wiley girl never happened.' He glanced at his watch. 'Got to go. I've got a meeting with the Commissioner and you know what's so frustrating? I can't tell him what great work I've done on this case.'

  He went off like a strong wind, hailing a cab. Blake watched him go, then turned and walked away.

  He caught the shuttle back to Washington, thought about things, then called Alice Quarmby and told her to set up a meeting with the President.

  'Did you get anywhere?' She was guarded, as usual.

  'It's a highly unusual story, Alice,' he said. 'But I'll tell you later.'

  As luck would have it, he was alone, the next seat vacant. He lay back, tilted his seat, closed his eyes, and started right at the beginning, allowing one event to flow into another, trying to make sense of it all. The only trouble was that he became so relaxed he fell asleep, and was only aroused by the touch of a hand on his shoulder as they landed at Washington.

  Alice had coffee waiting, hot and strong, and he sat behind his desk, sipped it and looked at the in-tray. 'Looks like a lot to me, Alice.'

  'I can handle most of it. Just needs a signature. What happened?'

  He told her, everything that had taken place, everything Jean Wiley had said, though he didn't disclose her name.

  'I think Captain Parker is right,' she said, when he was finished. 'It's something personal we're missing, something to do with those Sons of Erin bastards.'

  'Why, Alice, bad language at your age.'

  'Don't be funny.' She looked at her watch. 'If you're interested, you've got six minutes to get up to see the President. Try the pool first.'

  'Thanks very much.' He pushed his chair back and jumped up. 'I'll do you a favour sometime, Alice,' and he hurried out.

  TWELVE

  Jake Cazalet was in the White House swimming pool, flailing up and down, one length after another, watched by two Marine sergeants, immaculate in white track suits, who acted as lifeguards. He swam to the side and looked up at Blake.

  'Anything productive?'

  'You could say that, Mr President.'

  'Okay, we can't talk now. I'll shower and change and see you upstairs, but I don't have long. Got a pile of work to do.'

  When Blake went into the Oval Office, Henry Thornton was arranging a stack of papers on the desk.

  'How did it go?'

  'Well, let's say I learned a lot, but not enough.'

  Thornton raised a hand. 'Don't tell me. Let's wait for the great man himself. I always prefer to share bad news with others. It detracts from any feeling of personal responsibility.'

  'Are you getting anywhere with your background checks?' Blake asked.

  'Not so far,' Thornton said.

  The President breezed in, his hair still damp and tousled. 'Okay, Blake, let's hear the worst.'

  When Blake was finished, both his listeners looked serious. Thornton said, 'Well, there's one thing, Mr President. At least we know this mystery woman Dillon mentioned exists.'

  'More than that. It would appear she's been responsible for

  all the killings, and that really is incredible,' Cazalet said. 'But why?'

  'Some sort of vendetta,' Blake told him. 'It's the only explanation.'

  'And this girl, whose name you won't give us,' Thornton said, 'she wasn't able to help in any other way?'

  'As I've told you, she described the woman, for what it's worth.'

  'And what a description,' Thornton said. 'Sixties, white-haired, blue-blood accent. We seem to be talking High Society here. Come on, Blake, this girl, can't she come up with more?'

  Cazalet raised a hand. 'No, what Blake got is all there is. I accept that, just as I accept Blake's integrity in holding to his word, both to that young woman and to Captain Parker for backing him to the hilt in this matter.'

  'Fine, Mr President,' Thornton said. 'But where does it leave us? No further forward.'

  'Have you got anywhere with your own investigation?'

  Thornton said, 'I'm afraid not.'

  Cazalet nodded, frowning. 'I suggest you speak to Brigadier Ferguson, Blake, bring him up to date. Is there anything else you can do?'

  'I've been wondering whether any of the premises near the alley where the two shootings took place might have anything on their security videos for the time in question.'

  'That would show the woman?'

  'Perhaps. A long shot.'

  'Okay, pursue that, and as I say, bring Ferguson up to date.' Cazalet nodded. 'Perhaps it might even be an idea to have Dillon over.'

  'But how would that help, Mr President?' Thornton asked.

  'Well, he did catch sight of the mystery woman in Wapping after the Tim Pat Ryan shooting.'

  'A glimpse only,' Blake pointed out.

  'Yes, but the same glimpse on a security video could match up. What else have we got?'

  'Not very much, Mr President.'

  'So, to other matters. This party of Chad Luther's day after tomorrow in Quogue.' He turned to Thornton. 'Any special problems, Henry?'

  'None, Mr President.' He turned to Blake. 'Good old Chad is our biggest fund-raiser and he'll have all the world and his wife there.'

  'Will you use Air Force One, sir?' Blake asked.

  'No. I'll go down in one of the Gulfstreams.' The President nodded. 'Pursue your inquiries, but I want you to join up with the security arrangements, too, and come to Long Island. Take the helicopter.'

  'Forgive me, Mr President, but I'll have Sean Dillon here by then.'

  'Bring him with you, by all means. I'd appreciate seeing him again.' Cazalet smiled. 'But now, I really must get on. Good old Henry here will be breathing fire and smoke before I know where I am.'

  Thornton laughed appreciatively, and Blake withdrew.

  Back in his office, he spoke to Harry Parker and raised the question of security videos. Parker said, 'That's a good point. Thinking about things after you left, it occurred to me, too. I'll check.'

  'That's that, then,' Blake said. 'I saw the President, told him everything about our talk with the girl. He said he appreciated your help, Harry.'

  'Hey, don't fuck with me.'

  'It's the truth, Harry. I'll keep you posted.'

  Harry Parker sat there at his desk, frowning, thinking about what Blake had said. Then his phone rang again, and a woman's voice said, 'Captain Parker?'

  'Who is this?'

  'I have the President for you.'

  Parker sat there in total astonishment, gripping the phone, and the President said, 'Harry Parker? Jake Cazalet.'

  Parker managed to mumble, 'Mr President?'

>   'Just wanted to thank you for your efforts. Blake Johnson has filled me in. I know the fact of a presidential warrant must have given you a problem. It goes against the grain of all your service experience. But I'm personally immensely grateful for the help you've given without hesitation in a most serious and confidential matter.'