Dark Ambition

by Allan Topol

  "How are you coming with Clyde's defense?"

  Jennifer's thoughts flashed to the meeting with Ben that afternoon. "We're doing fine. Thanks to you and the Chinese connection, I've got something. I'll be able to blow a lot of smoke."

  "I gather that you didn't sleep much last night either."

  "What do you mean?"

  Ann looked worried. "I heard about Marianne Kelso's party."

  "Did you hear I misbehaved?"

  "Not from Marianne. Jim Slater called me."

  Jennifer unconsciously patted her hair. "What'd he want?"

  "Oh, he pretended to be calling to see how I was doing after Robert's death. In reality, I think he was digging for intelligence about you."

  Jennifer was pleased and flattered. "Really?"

  Ann narrowed her eyes. "You sure you want to get involved with him?"

  Jennifer could see how genuine Ann's concern for her was. "The truth is, I don't know. I honestly don't know."

  "I just don't want you to get hurt."

  Jennifer hesitated and then said, "Suppose I told you that I like spending time with him?"

  Ann sighed. "I can see why. He has a lot going for him."

  "And one very big negative."

  "You said it. Not me."

  * * *

  Ed Fulton lived in a comfortable two-story colonial just off Western Avenue on the D.C. side of Chevy Chase, close to Rock Creek Park. He didn't get this house on his salary, Ben thought. There's got to be some family money. The trees towering over the house had shed a blanket of leaves that covered the yard. A large deer with antlers cut across the road, startling Ben.

  Fulton smiled. "We see them all the time."

  Ben expected Fulton's wife to be a small, mousy-looking woman who saw herself as an appendage of her hard-driving, ambitious husband. Instead, Theodora was a tall, striking brunette with haunting chestnut eyes and magnificent clear skin with a touch of olive that told of her Mediterranean roots. Wearing a navy skirt and a powder-blue sweater that was flattering on her full-bosomed figure, she had a clean, fresh look, as if she had just stepped out of the shower. Ben smelled the scent of a luxurious perfume when she shook his hand at the door. "I'm always pleased to meet one of Eddie's colleagues," she said, sounding as if she meant it.

  The children, whom Fulton had told Ben about, were a boy, five, and a girl, three. The instant the door closed they raced away from the nanny, a Latina woman in her twenties, and greeted their father with wild shouts and cries until he took turns picking them up. Proud of his children, Fulton introduced them to Ben, then said, "You have to excuse me. I gotta get these guys to bed." With Kirstin over his shoulder, Kevin tugging on his hand, and the nanny following behind, Fulton made his way up the stairs.

  Without asking what he wanted, Theo handed Ben a glass of sparkling wine. "Spumante," she said, "from the lake country of northern Italy. Make yourself at home. I have to do a couple of things for dinner."

  Ben wandered into the den, paneled in a rich cherry, and gazed at the pictures and plaques that lined the walls. One wall was devoted to Theo's family and the other to Ed. The first picture that caught Ben's eye was Theo in a graduation cap and gown surrounded by her parents and holding up a diploma from the University of Michigan that read cum laude. Her mother's face closely resembled Theo's.

  On the left was a picture of her father in a tuxedo and shaking hands with President Brewster. They were standing at the podium of what must have been a Detroit political fund-raiser, from the sign in the background. The handwritten inscription read, Without your help, Carl, I would never have carried Michigan. Above that picture was one of her father standing in front of a factory building, dressed in a suit and tie and wearing a hard hat. A little girl, who must have been Theo, with a hard hat covering her eyes, was holding on to his hand. In the background the sign on the building read Ericson Fastener Company. And above that was a photo of Theo holding a gavel and sitting at a table with a sign that said alpha phi sorority.

  Wanting to understand Fulton better, Ben moved to the other wall. There were the pictures he expected to see, namely Fulton with the chief justice of the Supreme Court, for whom he had clerked; with Jim Slater; and finally with President Brewster and an inscription that read To Ed, in appreciation for all of your fine work. Ben expected to see all of those photographs, as well as Fulton's diplomas from college and law school—summa cum laude. They were par for the course on a Washington wall. What Ben didn't expect to see was a framed newspaper article from the Kalamazoo Times that was captioned, Third-Generation marine inducted.

  The article recited the fact that Fulton's grandfather, a captain in the marines, had died in the battle of Okinawa. His father, who left his job in a Kalamazoo foundry to enlist in the marines, had died in the highland jungles of Vietnam. Next to that article was a picture of a little boy standing close to a woman with a tear-stained face, dressed shabbily but holding herself with resolute dignity as a marine officer handed her a folded flag. The boy, no doubt little Ed, was saluting the officer.

  All of these items reinforced Ben's view of Fulton—from a modest background, but very bright, hardworking, and ambitious to the point of being driven. He had become tremendously successful for his age, and he was now on a classic Washington PET—Power Ego Trip.

  Ben became aware of the scent of perfume. He wheeled around to find Theo holding a glass of sparkling wine and watching him from the doorway to the den.

  "Quite a story, isn't it?" she said. "Eddie was a patriot before it became fashionable."

  "That's true," he said easily. "How'd you meet him?"

  "Fraternity-sorority mixer my freshman year. His junior. After that night neither of us ever dated anyone else. He was so much different from the Grosse Point boys I'd grown up with. Nobody had ever given him anything. Everything he had, even tuition and expenses, he earned working and with scholarships. He was not only superbright and ambitious, but sensitive and caring. Good to his mother, whom he supported. Even a star pitcher in the IF League. He made me feel special. It was love on the first date, for both of us."

  The happy recollection made Ben feel sad. He had always wanted a relationship like that with someone.

  "You married, Ben?"

  "I was once. She died."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Thanks. The good news is that I've got a little girl, Amy. A great kid."

  "You should bring her out to play with Kirstin and Kevin sometime."

  Suddenly there was a pounding on the ceiling above them. Ben looked alarmed, but Theo waved her arm upward and smiled. "Don't worry; they're just jumping around up there. They're good kids, but they're wild when they see Eddie, because he's almost never home. That's why I was delighted when he called to say he was bringing you for dinner. Otherwise, I wouldn't have seen him until midnight."

  She said it in a cheerful voice, which surprised Ben. He had expected to hear a tinge of resentment, and he wouldn't have blamed her. This couldn't have been what she had bargained for when she agreed they should stay in Washington after Ed's Supreme Court clerkship. Still, the drift of the discussion made Ben feel uneasy. He changed the subject, pointing to the picture of Theo with her father in front of the factory. "What kind of fasteners did they make?"

  "My grandfather started the company," she said with pride. "They didn't make the screws and bolts you buy at a hardware store. In the early days, it was fasteners for automobile frames and parts. Then they shifted to high tech, precision, finely machined and calibrated fasteners for spaceships, airplanes, and other sophisticated uses. Daddy, who's running the company now, sells to Boeing, Lockheed-Martin, Northrop Grumman—all of them. People have been trying to buy him out for years, but he won't give it up."

  So that's where the money came from. "I'll bet you have a brother who's in the business."

  "Nope. I'm an only child. Since it looked like I was going to be the only one, based on what the doctors said, and I wasn't going to be Ted, the son he wanted, he called m
e Theo. He still figures that one day we'll come back to Detroit, that Eddie will practice law, and I'll run the business."

  "Not much chance of that, is there?"

  She nodded. "Eddie's always had a rapport with Daddy, but Detroit's not in the cards. Not the way Eddie's been making a name for himself here."

  There were several responses that Ben wanted to make to that comment, but he decided they were all insulting to his host, and he didn't want to do that as a guest in the house. He took a sip of his drink, trying to decide how to respond. At that moment, Fulton appeared behind Theo and said, "Let's eat, guys."

  They sat down at the table, set with beautiful blue and white Limoges china and Baccarat crystal. Fulton and Theo sat across from each other with Ben between them. Fulton bowed his head and said, "We thank you, dear Lord, for all of the generous bounty that you have provided for us."

  Theo got up and returned carrying homemade ravioli stuffed with wild mushrooms, while Fulton poured a deep red wine.

  Ben was blown away by the ravioli, which was simply the best pasta he had ever eaten. He asked Theo, "You made this yourself?"

  "From scratch, Ben. I take it that you like it?"

  "Like it? I love it. Where'd you ever learn to cook?"

  "Well, I had a long year after graduation from college and before we got married while Eddie was stationed in Macedonia on a peacekeeping mission. So I went back to the land of my mother's family, in a hill town of Tuscany called Rada. There I took several cooking courses to pass the time between Eddie's leave periods. Then we'd set off for the lake country, or Venice, or Barcelona, depending on how much time we had. When Eddie had only a couple of days, we never left the villa."

  Fulton blushed, while Theo had a starry look in her eyes, as if she were longing for those days, when they made love morning, noon, and night.

  When Theo got up to clear the pasta and bring on the main course, Ben sipped some wine, which was fabulous. "What are we drinking?" he asked, not that it would have made any difference to him, because he knew nothing about wine.

  Fulton shouted to Theo through the swinging door that led to the kitchen, "Ben wants to know what's the wine, hon."

  She shouted back, "Tell him it's 1990 Brunello de Montalcino from Altesino."

  Fulton winked at Ben and said in a low voice, "You got that?"

  Ben nodded. She returned with osso buco in a blue pot, which proved to be spectacular. You're a lucky man, Ben thought.

  As they ate, they talked about Europe, with Theo doing most of the talking. Ben, who had never been outside of the United States, listened eagerly. They had traveled widely in Italy, Switzerland, France, and Spain. Next to Tuscany, Theo loved northern Italy and the small towns in Provence.

  Midway through the osso buco, she pointed to the credenza and a second unopened bottle of the Barello, or whatever it was—Ben couldn't remember—and said, "Eddie, why don't you open that other one?"

  Fulton dutifully complied and refilled their glasses, although he was drinking very little himself. Ben, who didn't usually drink wine at dinner, was enjoying this one, keeping pace with Theo.

  Following the main course, Theo disappeared into the kitchen for several minutes. Ben thought he heard a hand beater scraping against a metal bowl. It was a good guess. Desert was zabaglione spiked with Frangelico and accompanied by Vin Santi and homemade biscotti.

  When they had finished, she asked Ben, "How about some espresso?"

  She probably made great espresso as well. "Sounds like the perfect way to end a perfect meal."

  She was heading back into the kitchen when the phone rang. "I'll bet I know who that is," she said, winking at Ben. "Listen, Eddie, why don't I answer and tell Mr. Slater that you decided to take the evening off?"

  Fulton glared at her and raced into the kitchen to grab the phone before she could.

  "You can go into the den," Theo said to Ben. "I'll bring your espresso."

  At this point, sensing the marital tension that Slater's calls created, Ben would have preferred to go home. The problem was that Theo had worked so hard. He couldn't be rude to her. All of that was true, but he had to admit there was something else keeping him. She was a very foxy lady. In his current horny state he enjoyed looking at her and talking with her. "Sure. Sounds good," he said.

  A couple of minutes later, she joined him in the den carrying two cups of espresso. "Welcome to the Fulton household," she said, sounding amused rather than bitter. She sat down on the sofa. "It's like this every night Eddie manages to make it home."

  Ben found himself in the odd position of defending Fulton. "He's in a tough position, working for someone as demanding as Jim Slater."

  She laughed. "Eddie loves every minute of it. Carrying the great man's briefcase and doing his bidding. He'll do anything to get a higher mark from Jim Slater. Anything at all."

  The conversation struck Ben as very odd. She didn't sound as if she resented her husband and Slater. Was it that her Eddie was getting ahead in Washington? Ben ran with that idea. "He's just starting out. He wants to succeed."

  "And he's doing a good job at it, though there's a price to pay."

  Ben felt awkward. He didn't know what to say.

  Realizing this, she added, "I shouldn't be saying these things to a stranger, but it's funny. I feel as if I can talk to you."

  Ben smiled. "I sometimes have that effect on people. I guess it comes from questioning witnesses all the time."

  She drained her espresso and put her feet up on the sofa under her, letting her skirt ride up high on her thighs. She wasn't wearing panty hose, and Ben could see the pale yellow of her bikini panties and a little of her dark brown bush peeking out on the edges. It was a provocative position and she knew it. She watched him watching her and smiled at him. I'd better get out of here, Ben thought.

  She resumed talking as if nothing had happened. "Eddie didn't used to be like he is now. When I first met him in college, he was sensitive and caring. Ambitious but not driven to succeed at any cost. If he had been that way, I would never have married him."

  Ben had seen it happen again and again. Young men and women like Fulton came to the nation's capital in droves at the beginning of every new administration. Power for them was the ultimate aphrodisiac, to become players in Washington. Very few succeeded. And those who did often surrendered a part of themselves in a Faustian bargain. He tried to sound constructive. "Washington sometimes does that to people. It puts them over the edge. They get caught up in making it big here." He shrugged. "Sometimes they do."

  "Meaning that usually they don't."

  As Ben was framing his response, Fulton reappeared.

  "My master returns," she said, pulling down her skirt and lowering her feet to the floor.

  Ben had had enough of both of them. This could get ugly. He stood up, holding his hands in front of his pants to cover the bulge. Theo noticed it with an amused expression, but Fulton was oblivious. "I'd better be going. Let me call a cab."

  "Don't be silly. I'll drive you home," Fulton said. "Besides, I've got to go back to the office now. You're on the way."

  At the door, Theo gave Ben each of her cheeks for a perfunctory farewell kiss, European style, and said, "Ciao;" then quickly disappeared.

  "Sorry to leave you alone so long with Theo," Fulton said as he started the engine. "I hope she didn't bore you to tears."

  "No apologies are necessary. She's good company." A lot more fun to be with than you are, Ben thought.

  "I'm sure she's plenty pissed at me," he said, backing out of the driveway, "but how can I not take a call from Mr. Slater? How can I not go back to the office and prepare the things he needs first thing in the morning?"

  Fulton was very happy, Ben decided, that the call had come. It showed how important he was. "You have to do what you have to do."

  "Part of the phone call dealt with you," Fulton told Ben.

  Ben was thinking Fulton was nuts to leave his sexy wife in that lonely house. Still, he asked, "Oh, and
what did your fearless leader have to say about me?"

  "I gave him a status report on the Gillis case. He was pleased that you've got an early arraignment and that Hogan's the judge. He's met her a few times. Wants to know if he can do anything to help."

  "Tell him," he snapped, "the last thing I want is White House interference." He didn't have to behave like a good guest any longer. "Tell him to stay out of my way so I can get the case ready for trial."

  Fulton was shocked. "Oh, I'd never talk to Mr. Slater that way."

  "Well, you'd be doing him a favor if you did."

  "It's a matter of respect and loyalty. I mean, how I talk to somebody like Mr. Slater."

  "Jesus, you were in the marines too long." It was an unkind comment, knowing what had happened to Fulton's father and grandfather, but Ben didn't care.

  Fulton clutched the steering wheel tightly to control his anger. "You obviously don't believe in serving your country."

  Ben could feel his blood pressure rising as well. "I've spent my whole career in public service. I've had lots of high-paying offers from law firms, but I've turned them down."

  "So why do you keep doing what you're doing?"

  "It's a long story."

  "We have time until we drop you off."

  "We do," Ben said. He closed his eyes, not wanting to talk to Fulton, to Theo, or to anyone else for the rest of the night. "But we're not going to talk about it."

  * * *

  Amy was sleeping peacefully when Ben got home. He sat in the rocker in her darkened room and watched her. "So why do you keep doing what you're doing?" Fulton had asked him in the car.

  It was a story he had told very few people—only Jenny and Nan. When the tragedy occurred, he was too young to comprehend it. Years later, when he had been a student at Berkeley, he had been obsessed with finding out what had happened to his father. Doggedly, he had pursued the events of more than a decade earlier, until he had pieced the story together from newspaper articles and interviews.

  In the late fifties, when he was born, it had been a time of great growth in San Francisco. With limited land available, city council approvals for building projects were critical. With what was at stake, it was perhaps inevitable that there should be widescale corruption in the city government. Still, what Ben's father, Morris Hartwell, a young assistant district attorney, found exceeded what anyone had thought. Builders and developers were making massive payoffs into a slush fund. The open question was which city officials had masterminded this scheme and who were its beneficiaries. The public and the newspapers were clamoring for an end to the corruption and punishment for wrongdoers. Morris Hartwell, an ambitious young prosecutor, followed a paper trail that led him to Curt Richardson, a city council member who was clearly living well beyond his public salary. Following a sensational, headline-grabbing trial, Morris got his conviction and Richardson went to jail for twenty years. After a year Richardson was stabbed to death in the prison exercise yard. Then additional facts came out about the former councilman's life and his sources of income from a private investment in a Tahoe gambling casino. As Morris kept digging, he realized that Richardson had been set up with false evidence, and the young prosecutor had been duped by the false trail. Slowly, without any of the press fanfare that accompanied the earlier case, he began building a case against two other city councilmen. He was on the verge of taking his new evidence to a grand jury when a truck smashed head-on into his Ford Fairlane on a fog-shrouded road outside of the city. Morris and his wife, Nell, were killed instantly. Their five-year-old son, Ben, was at home with a baby-sitter at the time.