Dark Ambition

by Allan Topol

  Ben replied, "I thought you'd never ask."

  He reached into his briefcase, pulled out the document, and handed it to her. She read it quickly and pushed it aside.

  Jennifer placed a tape recorder on the coffee table and pushed the record button as Alexandra began to speak.

  "On Friday, the day before Winthrop died, a woman called me. She said that her name was Ann Winthrop, Robert's wife. Naturally, I was worried. It's always messy if a client's wife finds my number and calls."

  Jennifer was nonplussed. What was going on? Ann had never told her about this call.

  "Well, anyhow, Mrs. Winthrop said that she and her husband had an open marriage. She knew that he used my services. She wanted to give him a surprise for his birthday on Saturday afternoon at two o'clock. At home. A session with one of my best girls."

  "This is preposterous," Jennifer said.

  Ben shushed her. He wanted to hear where this was going. "What else did this woman who said she was Mrs. Winthrop tell you?"

  "That on Saturday I should send the girl down on the Delta Shuttle at nine-thirty, then call Robert and tell him a surprise was coming. I shouldn't tell him who was responsible for the surprise."

  Jennifer was looking at Alexandra in total disbelief. The madam had shifted to face Ben before continuing. "Mrs. Winthrop said she or someone else would meet the girl at National Airport with a sign that said Rome Industrial. They would take the girl to Robert. She also told me that she'd have fifty thousand dollars in cash delivered to me in a few hours to cover transportation, the girl and so forth."

  "That's a lot of money," Ben said, "for something like this."

  She eyed Ben suspiciously. "Meaning that I should have guessed something more was involved?"

  The woman was no dummy, Ben thought. How'd she manage to make such a mess out of her life?

  "Honey, you'd be surprised when sex is involved how people spend money. I once had a New York Yankee who—"

  Ben interrupted her. "Let's stick to this situation. Did you get the money?"

  "A courier, a young man, delivered it an hour later in a blank brown envelope."

  "What company was the courier from?"

  "I have no idea. I didn't pay attention."

  "Did you have any reason to believe that Ann Winthrop, or whoever was calling you pretending to be Ann Winthrop, might have been involved with a foreign government?"

  She shook her head. "No."

  "So you took the money?"

  "Yes. Which I will, of course, report as taxable income at the end of the year."

  "No doubt. And?"

  "Saturday morning, I told Betsy to take the nine-thirty Delta Shuttle to Washington. She's gorgeous. A new girl from Iowa. She was excited about the idea of being with the secretary of state." Alexandra's mouth turned down. "It was the worst thing I ever did in my life."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, obviously, it led to Robert's death. Like I said, he was one of my best customers. Dummy," she muttered, angry at herself. "I was stupid. I should have seen through it. The money blinded me."

  Ben brought her back to the story. "What happened to Betsy when she got to Washington?"

  "I didn't find out about any of this until she got back. But a blond woman met her at the airport. Said she was Ann Winthrop's secretary. When they got into the blonde's car, the blonde handed Betsy ten thousand dollars, and said the plans had changed. Robert was tied up on some urgent state department business during the afternoon. The blonde said she was taking Betsy to the Washington Hilton Hotel. She handed her the key to room 742 and told Betsy to be there that evening from six on. Robert would come by as soon as he could."

  Jennifer shook her head in dismay. Ann Winthrop didn't have a blond secretary.

  "What'd Betsy do?"

  "She'd never been in Washington before. So she did the monuments in the afternoon, went to the top of the Washington Monument, touched old Abe Lincoln, and looked at Thomas Jefferson. Then she went back to the Hilton at about five-thirty. She turned on the TV and heard about Robert's death. In two seconds, she packed up and came back to New York."

  "Where's Betsy right now?" he asked.

  "At home, I think. Over on East Seventy-second."

  "Get her over here now."

  Alexandra was hesitant. "Can I ask why? I'd really like to spare her."

  "Well, you can't. I want her to make an ID from some pictures."

  * * *

  Betsy arrived fifteen minutes later. One look at her, and Ben knew that Alexandra wasn't exaggerating. The woman was gorgeous. About twenty-four years old, she was large-busted with sandy brown hair and a smooth, clean complexion. Straight from the farm, she had an innocence about her. New York hadn't yet hardened her.

  He could see the fear in her eyes as her gaze darted from one of them to the other. "Are you cops?" she stammered.

  "We're helping them," Ben responded in an authoritative tone. "As long as you cooperate with us, nothing will happen to you. I promise."

  From Betsy's expression, she wasn't persuaded. Alexandra took her into a back bedroom. When they returned a few minutes later, Betsy's look had changed. She had been intimidated into following her whoremaster's command.

  After she corroborated Alexandra's story, Ben handed her a picture of the blonde, taken that morning at George Washington hospital. Betsy's fingers were wet and clammy. "Is that the woman who met you at the airport?" Ben asked.

  She stared at it for a long moment. The bandage on the nose and facial bruises were making the ID difficult. Finally, she squinted, then nodded.

  "You're sure of it?"

  "I'm sure. I'll never forget what she looked like. She gave me the creeps."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She had a dead look in her eyes. She was a killer, that one. I could tell."

  Ben told her to write her address and telephone number on a small piece of paper. With a trembling hand, she gave it to him.

  "Please, you won't tell my parents what I'm doing in New York, will you? They think I'm working for an advertising agency."

  * * *

  "You guys don't believe for a minute Ann Winthrop made that call, do you?" Jennifer said as soon as they were in Mark's car on the way to LaGuardia. She was in the front seat. She turned around and looked at Ben in the back.

  He put his hand on her arm to calm her. "I agree. There's no reason to believe Ann did it. Anyone could have paid a woman, or asked a secretary or a woman friend to make the call, pretend she was Ann Winthrop, and follow the script. Our George Nesbitt could have even made the call. Personally, I think Ambassador Liu arranged it. We learned how deft he was at setting up encounters of this type from Peg Barton in London. Still..." he hesitated. He hated asking Jennifer because she'd chew his head off, but he had to. "You'd better touch base with Ann to close the loop."

  Jennifer sighed. "All right, I'll call her." Jennifer pulled the cell phone out of her purse.

  After she explained to Ann what had happened, Ann laughed. "That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard. Me arranging a prostitute for Robert?"

  "That's what I told Ben. Did you ever talk to Alexandra Hart?"

  "I never even heard of the woman until we found Robert's checks to her. And by the way, Robert's birthday is April fifteenth, tax day. A wife would know that. She'd never use a phony birthday as an excuse for a surprise gift to her husband, because it's so patently false."

  "Okay, I get it," Jennifer said.

  When she told Ben what Ann had said, he was convinced she hadn't made the call. Somebody had arranged for another woman to make that call to Alexandra Hart. It was Liu, Ben was now certain.

  Chapter 28

  Ben and Jennifer went immediately to the Department of Justice from National Airport.

  "It's time for us to go see Ambassador Liu," Ben announced as they walked through the door into the AG's office.

  Hawthorne was in the midst of dictating to his secretary. He rose from his chair with a sta
rt. "Let's take a break, Mary Beth."

  When she had departed, he shut the door. Ben and Jennifer gave the AG a rundown while he rolled an unlit cigar around in his mouth.

  "You're right," he said when they were finished. "Your next stop is the Chinese ambassador."

  Ben tried to look hopeful. The moment of truth had come as to whether they could count on Hawthorne. "We'll need your help getting to interview Liu."

  "I've already started the process. I've arranged for us to meet this evening with the President to discuss the issue. He's expecting us at nine o'clock in the Oval Office."

  Ben was pleasantly surprised. "Should we bring anything?"

  "All your stuff. We're only going to get one chance to do this. The tapes, the pictures, and Jennifer's motion papers relating to the deposition of the Chinese ambassador."

  Jennifer patted her briefcase. "They're all right here. I never leave home without them."

  "There's one more loose end," Ben said.

  The AG tossed his cigar into the wastebasket. "What's that?"

  "The FBI report on the blonde's fingerprints."

  "You underestimate me, Ben. When we hadn't heard anything by eight this morning, I went directly to Murtaugh. There had to be some reason it was taking so long."

  "And?" Ben held his breath.

  "It turns out that George Nesbitt doesn't have fingerprints. At least not ones we can use to make a match."

  Ben was nonplussed. "That's crazy. Everybody has fingerprints."

  Hawthorne smiled. "That's what I said, but we're both wrong. They can be surgically removed, which is what happened here."

  "Holy shit. So we're dealing with a real pro."

  "Precisely. And once she wakes up we may be able to make a deal with her and find out who hired her. The Chinese ambassador or someone else."

  Ben thought of the woman's assault on Amy, and his face burned with anger. "No way I'm going to agree to let this psycho walk."

  "Let's cross that bridge when we get to it."

  Hawthorne stood up, signaling that as far as he was concerned, the meeting was over. Ben remained in his chair, deep in thought.

  "What's bothering you?" the AG asked.

  "I'm trying to puzzle this all out. I can see the Chinese ambassador getting someone to call Alexandra Hart and making all the arrangements for the hit on Winthrop. That's doable, all right, but an awful lot's happened since then. Threats and bribes on the Gillis family. An attack on me and my daughter. And a helluva lot of other things intended to cover up Winthrop's murder. The Chinese ambassador couldn't have done those himself."

  Hawthorne sat back down, regarding Ben closely. "What are you saying?"

  "I think he needed help from an American. Do you have any idea who was close with Liu?"

  "The only one I know of is Marshall Cunningham, but Marshall wouldn't—" Hawthorne stopped in mid-sentence. "Jesus, this is turning into a fucking nightmare."

  "Should we invite Cunningham to the Oval Office this evening?" Jennifer asked.

  "Great idea," Hawthorne said. "Let's see how he deals with this."

  * * *

  Ben thought the President would explode with anger, or at least have a heart attack behind his desk in the Oval Office, when he and Jennifer finished the summary of their investigation, including Mark Bonner's photos showing the pickup of the video taken from Ann Winthrop by someone from the Chinese embassy. He shot to his feet. His face was beet red, and his breath was coming in short spurts. He ripped a page off the pad on his desk, rolled it up into a ball, and flung it into the wastebasket. Ben couldn't remember ever seeing anyone that angry.

  "Those bastards," he said, "spying on Robert like that and killing him. God damn them. We can't let them get away with it. I'll send Liu home. I'll cut off all diplomatic relations with the Chinese government. I'll—"

  Hawthorne interrupted him. "At this point, Philip, we don't know for sure that the Chinese government was responsible for Robert's death."

  "But just blackmailing him that way. That's enough to let Ben here do the interview he wants. We'll see where it leads."

  Ben was watching Cunningham, as he had during much of the presentation. The secretary of defense had a hostile scowl on his face.

  Jennifer knew that she should be watching Cunningham as well, but she kept glancing at Slater out of the corner of her eye. When they arrived, he hadn't acknowledged that he knew her, for which she was relieved. Throughout the entire presentation he had been silent, showing no visible reaction.

  The President turned to Cunningham. "What do you think, Marshall?"

  He tried to sound helpful. "Let's face it, the whole thing's a mess. The more poking around we do, the more likely we'll end up reading about that part of Robert's life in the newspapers. Equally important is our current relationship with Beijing, which is so sensitive right now, with their troops on the move toward Taiwan and our forces streaming toward China. I'm afraid the kind of interview Ben wants to do with Ambassador Liu could have serious foreign-policy repercussions. To be blunt, it could be the spark that lands us in a major war in Asia. For this reason, I think it would be a terrible mistake even to request this interview."

  "But if Liu was somehow involved in Robert's death..." Hawthorne said.

  "That's the whole point, Ches," replied Cunningham vehemently. "Ben's got no credible basis to believe Liu was involved."

  "I do have the two tapes Ann supplied."

  Cunningham snarled, "This is the first I've heard of this Chinese effort to blackmail Robert. What's clear is that it's a red herring as far as Robert's death is concerned."

  There was a brief silence. All of the others turned toward the President, waiting for Brewster to speak. Meantime, he picked up Ann's videotape and turned it over repeatedly, trying to sort out in his mind what to do.

  The President glanced at Ben. "How do you respond to what Marshall just said? You're the experienced prosecutor."

  "I think it's a mistake to wait. In any murder case the trail gets cold with time."

  Hawthorne jumped in to support Ben. "That's precisely right."

  "But doesn't Marshall have a point? There is no direct link between Robert's death and what was said on Ann's tape."

  Hawthorne nodded to Ben, who answered, "The circumstantial evidence is strong. If this were any other case, I wouldn't hesitate to interview a witness in Liu's position."

  "But this isn't any other case. Is it?"

  "That's correct, Mr. President," Ben said respectfully.

  "Shouldn't we follow Marshall's advice and wait until you have some direct evidence?"

  Dammit, Ben thought. Cunningham was winning. He would get away with it unless Ben stopped being intimidated by the Oval Office and became more assertive. Ben took a deep breath and decided to give it his best shot. "I've been doing criminal cases for a long time, Mr. President. I've learned to be suspicious about coincidental events. It's my experience that when two closely related events occur at about the same time in a serious criminal matter, it's not a coincidence. It's like hitting the same number twice on a roulette wheel. Yes, it could happen. But personally, my guess would be that there was a rigged wheel."

  Brewster smiled. "Actually, I'd put my money on a rigged wheel, too." The President looked over at Slater. "What do you think, Jim? You've been awfully quiet."

  Slater tugged on his blue suspenders. All eyes in the room were turned to him. Looking pensive, he said, "I'm in a funny position. I was the one who was pressing hard for a quick arrest and conviction of the gardener because I honestly thought he was guilty. I gave Ben a pretty rough time over that."

  He glanced over at Ben, who muttered, "That's an understatement."

  "But," Slater continued in a flat, even voice, "I'm a big enough person to admit if I make a mistake. Listening to everything Ben and Jennifer have said, I think it's probably more likely that Liu was responsible."

  Ben saw Cunningham squirming in his seat.

  "So I'd let Ben do the inter
view," Slater said. "As for how the Chinese will react?" He shrugged. "We'll never have their respect if we literally let them get away with murder."

  Brewster looked at Hawthorne. The AG leaned forward in his chair and cleared his throat. "I agree with Jim," he said. "My gut as a trial lawyer tells me Ben should do the interview with Liu. I'm not sure what we'll get. There's a good enough chance we may get something."

  Cunningham looked angry. "Oh, that's a great way to make national policy, Ches, based on your gut and his guess. I still think—"

  President Brewster cut him off. "I'll set up the interview through Dalton at State. If that doesn't work, I'll call Beijing myself."

  "The Chinese might not agree to it," Cunningham said.

  "Then Miss Moore will file her motion papers, and we'll take the diplomatic immunity issue to a judge. Robert was my best friend. One way or the other I'm going to get their cooperation."

  Cunningham was beaten, but he wasn't finished yet. "This is sensitive politically and diplomatically. At the interview, we'd better have somebody present from DOD. There's a lawyer on my staff who—"

  "If that's your concern," Hawthorne said, "then I'll get Bruce Girard to send somebody from his legal office at State. Can you live with that, Ben?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And I think," Cunningham added, "that your interview should be informal and off the record. No transcripts. No tape recorders. You can take notes. Nobody attends besides you and this representative of State. Nothing obtained during the interview can be disclosed to anyone other than the people in this room without express approval from the President."

  "I can live with that, too," Ben said.

  As the meeting was breaking up, Slater came over to Ben. "Listen, I meant what I said. I am sorry that I pushed you so hard on the gardener."

  Ben was still pissed at Slater for inserting Fulton into the case, but he decided to be gracious. "We've all been under a lot of pressure."

  "It wasn't that. I'm used to pressure. The reports I was getting from Ed were so strong and so definitive. He was absolutely convinced the gardener did it."