by Jan Coffey
CHAPTER 56
David Collier looked at his guests with real pleasure.
After the first night, they’d made a point of having dinner together. Because of Leah’s dialysis, David’s cottage was the natural place for everyone to gather. And, of course, Leah treated them all as if they were her long lost uncles and aunts. She was having the best time she’d had in years, David thought.
Taken together, they were the most unlikely group of individuals to form such a close bond. But it had happened.
Jay Alexei was twenty-one. His wife was eighteen. New parents and a hell of a lot younger than he was. Their baby was absolutely the perfect infant, though. He never cried, but of course, Padma almost never put him down, either. Jay had to nearly tear the infant out of her arms. David remembered Nicole being the same way the first month after Leah was born.
Outside, David could see him sitting on the patio with the baby. Alanna was out there, too, looking at the moon on the water and chatting comfortably.
Alanna Mendes was the dictionary definition of “married to the job.” Or, at least, this was the way she described herself. She felt comfortable enough to joke about it—willing to admit the television shows she’d missed out on and the movies she’d never seen and the places she’d never gone because of her dedication to her work. Here on the island, though, she couldn’t have taken more time being nice to Leah. David could see his daughter really getting attached to her.
This group’s cheerful camaraderie was one reason David felt uncertain about sharing what he’d discovered with Alanna and Jay. But he owed them the truth. They were all connected. They were all in this together. And each had their own reason to be concerned about taking part in this project.
Tonight, after dinner, Padma was taking her turn playing chess with Leah in the living room. The young mother was the best of all of them at the game, and she and Leah never stopped arguing as they played. David figured that was because of their closeness in age.
David got up and went outside. It was a good opportunity to mention his concerns. Harsha, as everyone now called the baby, was draped across his father’s chest, sleeping peacefully.
“There’s something I’d like to talk to you two about,” he said, sitting on one of the cushioned patio chairs.
He could see Alanna’s face immediately grow serious.
“Okay,” Jay said. “What’s up?”
“I’ve gone over all the accounts that money will be transferred from,” he told the other two. “All together, the balances today put the amount we’ll be moving at nearly five hundred million dollars.”
“And you checked to make sure all the accounts are listed under the name Bill Gates, I hope.”
Jay’s crack made them all laugh.
“We’re taking Galvin’s word that these are the right accounts,” David said, getting serious again.
“We’re taking his word for a lot,” Alanna admitted. “This late in the game, though, the only thing we can do is to trust him and let the dice roll.”
“You always surprise me,” David said to her. “But I guess that’s right.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” Jay agreed.
“But there’s something else,” David continued, “about the accounts that the funds are going to.”
“Is there a problem?” Alanna’s black eyes shone in the moonlight.
“As far as I can tell, they’re all nonprofits and U.S. and international charities, as he says…except one.”
David saw he had their attention. “Ten million dollars is getting transferred to Senator Paul Hersey of Pennsylvania.”
“Hersey?” Alanna repeated. David nodded.
“Wait a minute. Isn’t he running for the White House?” Jay asked.
“At this point he’s hoping for his party’s nomination,” Alanna commented.
“I don’t know what this guy stands for,” Jay told them. “But is a campaign fund donation a charitable contribution?”
“No,” David answered. “But there’s more than that. This is just a few zeros more than the allowable contribution for a candidate. Also, this is a transfer, not to the campaign fund, but to a personal account of Hersey’s. And another thing. The account is in the U.S., meaning it will be investigated and traced back to its source. This could not only destroy the guy’s political career but put him personally at risk of being charged with all kinds of fraud and conspiracy and any number of other things...especially if the word got out that some terrorist organization was the source of the money.”
The two sat still, wordlessly staring at him. He finally broke the silence.
“I’ve been in a position like that. I know what it’s like to be set up. It can destroy you. It will destroy him.”
“Galvin has something against Hersey,” Jay responded.
“That’s what it looks like to me,” David agreed.
Alanna shook her head. “Maybe we should ask him about it.”
“Listen,” Jay suggested. “Let me do some poking around—my way—and see if I can find out what the connections are between Galvin and Hersey.”
“I like both ideas,” David told them.
CHAPTER 57
Washington, D.C.
Mick was arriving tomorrow, and Amber still hadn’t been able to get two minutes alone with her father to tell him about their Irish guest. Campaign business was swallowing up all of his time.
He was speaking at a fundraising dinner for some organization tonight. She’d been invited, as well, but she’d passed. She was too wound up for tomorrow to put up with the speeches and smiling. She heard her father come in a few minutes after ten. Unfortunately, his good friend Matt Lane arrived immediately after.
Amber decided to interrupt them for a minute to let him now. This was his house and she’d respect his decision, if he preferred to have them stay at a hotel. She went downstairs.
Her father’s study was a comfortable room off the library in the front of the house. She walked into the library. The door to the study was open only a fraction of an inch, but she could hear their voices clearly. It sounded as if they were already in the middle of an argument. Amber decided to wait.
Matt Lane and her father had known each other for decades. They’d gone to law school together. They’d started their careers in Washington at the same time. Matt didn’t have the charisma or the looks for politics. So he’d pursued a successful career in the law. Amber knew he was smart. He’d also held a couple of low-level cabinet positions under one or two presidents. Lately, though, Amber knew Matt Lane was the person working the lights for her dad. He was the eyes and ears for him, smoothing the way. Her father trusted Matt Lane’s counsel like no one else’s.
And Amber had never heard them argue like this. As she turned to go, she couldn’t help hearing bits and pieces that made her stop dead.
“…two deaths…couple of days apart…”
“Overreacting…” her father was saying.
Amber moved to a leather chair near the senator’s office door. She turned on the light next to her and grabbed today’s newspaper off the ottoman.
“…It’s not over. You’re letting down your guard…” Matt warned.
She could hear their discussion clearly. Amber felt no embarrassment listening in on what was being said. Her father always treated her as a confidante in his political dealings. They’d become especially close since she’d moved back home.
“…Amber is home safe. All I care…”
Her father lowered his voice behind the door, but she was starting to think that perhaps the security bulletin her father had received when she was in Ireland hadn’t been complete nonsense.
Matt Lane’s voice suddenly came through, his tone angry and accusatory. “But you let Nathan die.”
Hearing the name, Amber felt her spine stiffen. There was only one Nathan that she knew was dead. Nathan Galvin. He’d died this past year, traveling in Turkey.
“Steven is over it. He’s retired.”
They were t
alking about Nathan Galvin, Amber realized.
“For God’s sake, Paul. He lost his son, his wife. Kei killed herself because of what you allowed to happen to Nathan. Don’t you think he’s holding a grudge?” Matt asked.
The newspaper slid through Amber’s fingers. She stood up and walked toward the study door.
“I’m telling you, he doesn’t blame me,” Paul Hersey said. “He still thinks I did everything I could. Shit happens. People die. You’re wrong, Matt. We just got a donation from Steven. He wouldn’t still be supporting my campaign if he was holding a grudge.”
Amber pushed open the study door. Her father looked up with a start. Matt was standing with his hands on Paul’s desk, leaning over. He turned around quickly.
“Amber,” Paul said, sounding as if there was nothing wrong. “Come in, honey. You missed a great party tonight.”
“I need to talk to you,” she told him.
“Matt and I are done here, anyway.” He looked meaningfully up at his friend.
“Not quite.”
“But we can talk about this tomorrow,” Paul stressed.
“I’ll be by to see you early,” Matt told him.
“I’ll tell Susan to call your secretary with my schedule.”
Matt Lane gave Amber a quick pat on the shoulder as he charged out of the room. A few seconds later, they heard the front door open and shut.
“So what’s up, honey,” he asked, putting on a campaign smile.
Amber felt like she was looking at a stranger. She remembered Nathan’s funeral. She recalled the years that she and Nathan had gone to the same summer camps. The sailing classes they’d taken together. The get-togethers of the two families. All of them had been great friends for as long as she could remember.
“Nathan,” she said. “How did he die?”
“Oh, forget you heard that, sweetie. Matt’s getting paranoid in his old age,” he said, brushing her off. “What is this thing Susan was telling me, though, about some Irish charmer who’s been calling—”
“How did Nathan die, Dad?” she asked forcefully, interrupting him.
He leaned back in his chair. He tugged at the bow tie of his tuxedo, loosening the knot. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“But I do,” she persisted. “Tell me.”
Her father took a deep breath and frowned.
“Nathan was kidnapped by a group of terrorists. They killed him before we could negotiate anything for him. Are you happy now?”
She remembered the vagueness at the time of the funeral. Someone said he’d died in a car accident. It wasn’t exactly a question you could ask his parents. Everyone was shocked.
“Did Steven and Kei know about it?” she asked.
“Yes, they knew,” he told her.
“Why all the secrecy? Why the rumors about an accident?”
“Because he was working for the CIA. That’s why.”
She sat down in the chair across from her father. That didn’t make any sense. She just couldn’t see Nathan doing that. He was too normal to get involved with spies.
“Why did Matt say that you let Nathan die?” she asked.
“He was being melodramatic.” He turned his chair and opened his laptop.
“Dad, why would Steven Galvin blame you for Nathan’s death?”
“He doesn’t.”
“Why, dad?” she asked again.
“That’s history, Amber,” he snapped at her, whirling around and facing her. “Let it go.”
“I can’t. You’re my father. Nathan was my friend. I need to know the truth.”
“And you’ve decided I’m not telling you the truth?” he asked. “Look, honey. That’s enough talk about Nathan. I told you, it’s history. Now I have work to do.”
He turned his chair again, dismissing her.
Amber stared at him. She didn’t recognize the man. He wasn’t her father. There were no emotions in him, no compassion. He didn’t care about the truth.
“I don’t get it,” she said, standing up. She moved toward the door. “You’re a different person. I don’t understand you.”
CHAPTER 58
Getting up early, Alanna went looking for Steven. At the main building, she was told she could find him working in the stone gardens.
Alanna knew where that was. Walking around the property a couple of days ago, she’d spotted the area. It was a twenty by forty foot garden of exotic flowers near the sandy beach. The plants were protected by a handmade stone wall four feet high. When she got there, she found him down on his knees, weeding around some of the flowers. The colors were vibrant. The bed of soil and greens was well cared for.
“I never would have taken you for a gardener,” she admitted.
“Another project that Kei started. She loved to work the soil, bring beauty to life.” He straightened his back and looked down at the flower bed. “I think she’d be happy to know I’m taking care of them. Considering how much I teased her about my hating gardening.”
Alanna sat down on a stone bench right outside of the enclosure and stretched her arm out along the wall. The stones were warm and smooth to her touch. The sky was blue. The weather forecast promised a sunny day on the island. The wind never stopped.
“This afternoon, the countdown starts.” He glanced at her, resting an elbow on a raised knee. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “There’s an important question that I’d like to ask you, though. It’s actually a question from all of us—Jay, David, and me.”
If he was nervous about what the question might be, his expression gave nothing away. He shrugged. “Fire away.”
“Why Senator Paul Hersey?” she asked.
He stared at her for a minute, and then he nodded. “I knew David would find it. Actually, I was counting on it.”
“But you haven’t answered my question,” she pressed.
He pushed himself to his feet. The old jeans he was wearing were covered with dirt at the knees. The sneakers on his feet had holes in them. He dropped the clippers in a basket sitting on a ground and took off his work gloves, dropping them on top.
“Paul Hersey, one of my oldest friends, was responsible for Nathan’s death.” The anger was barely concealed in his tone.
“I thought you said terrorists killed your son.”
“They did. But that was because they thought he was someone else, a more experienced CIA operative, the real target of the kidnapping,” he told her.
“So how does Senator Hersey come into this?” she asked.
“I went to Paul. I begged for his help. I begged him to let me be involved.” His voice rose with the morning breeze. “I told him to offer any amount of money. He patted me on the back and lied to me about helping Nathan. But when I walked out of his office, he never passed on my offer to the people who mattered. And when the time came to let Nathan be sacrificed—to be killed so that they could protect the more valuable agent—he let it happen. He said nothing. He turned his back on a friend. He did nothing to save a boy that he claimed to love like his own.”
Alanna watched him pick up the basket of tools. His back was bent with the weight of his grief. His hair seemed more gray this morning. The lines on his face were deeper, more pronounced. For a man who was only in his fifties, he looked so much older.
“Is that why none of the public reports mentioned anything about the kidnapping?” Alanna asked.
“Yes.” He looked up at her. “Our government and those in charge at Langley didn’t want to blow the cover of the agent my son was to die for.”
“How do you know Paul Hersey was responsible for any of this?”
“In this great country of ours, everything is for sale. Actually, the same goes for anywhere around the world. You can buy information for the right price. I have my connections, Alanna. I know who did what during the situation with my son, and I know who did nothing. I know who is responsible for my son’s death…both at home and in the Middle East.”
He came out of the stone
enclosure, and she stood up. The two of them started walking back toward the main building.
“When that money gets transferred to his account,” she said, “his political career is over.”
“I know. I have not formed my plans without careful thought. I want to take away from him what he values most.”
CHAPTER 59
Washington, D.C.
Paul Hersey tried to kid himself that what his daughter thought of him didn’t matter. But that was a lie. Her opinion mattered greatly.
He waited some fifteen minutes, busying himself with checking his email, his schedule for tomorrow. It was pointless. Shutting off his laptop, he trudged upstairs. All the lights were on. At the top of the stairs, he found a suitcase already packed. Amber’s bedroom door was open. She was going back and forth between the closet and the bed, dropping armloads of clothes into an open suitcase.
“What are you doing?” he asked, standing in the doorway.
“Moving out,” she said quietly, but not pausing.
“Why?”
She didn’t bother to answer.
“Amber,” he said sharply. “I deserve an explanation.”
She whirled on him. “And I don’t?”
Their glares locked.
He looked away first. He couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t admit it to her right now, but she mattered more to him than any political career, more than his wealth, more than anything else he held dear. The renewed relationship between them made Paul feel as if he’d finally done something right in his life. She was the flower who’d blossomed, despite how badly he’d screwed up his marriage. She was part of him.
She was too much like him.
“I don’t think it’s right to dredge up the past,” he said in a reasonable voice.
“How are you responsible for Nathan’s death?”
“I didn’t take a gun to his head and shoot him,” he told her.
“What was it that you did or didn’t do?” she asked, slowly enunciating each word.
“You’ve grown up with politics your whole life. You know that things can’t be black and white. We can’t feed everyone. Some have to go hungry.”