Dark Ambition

by Allan Topol

  "Who else was Ed Fulton working with?"

  "As far as I could tell, he was on his own."

  "Wasn't he being directed by Jim Slater?" Ben asked.

  "I've got no reason to believe Slater was pulling the kid's strings, but I didn't try to find out. As I said, the less I knew the better."

  "Did Slater ever talk to you about this matter at any other time before or after Winthrop's murder?"

  "Negative. I've described the one conversation I had with him."

  "I want to remind you again that if you're lying in this interview, the immunity deal is off. I'll charge you with conspiracy to commit murder, because that's sure as hell what you set Gwen up to commit."

  "Believe me, I understand that. I'm choosing my words carefully."

  Ben wasn't convinced. "I can't see Ed Fulton pulling all this together himself."

  "Oh, I don't know. The kid may be lacking in people skills, but as I look at it in hindsight, he has plenty of brains. All he needed was a shooter. And unhappily I supplied Gwen."

  "Unhappily?" Ben asked skeptically.

  "Yeah, not only didn't I want to kill Winthrop, but Gwen was beaten up pretty badly as a result, which is a shame." He smiled, reveling in the disgusted faces all around him. "A number of years ago, I spent six months in Paris with Gwen on Agency business. We ended up living together. It was the best six months of my life. The only time in my life I've been in love. I was ready to toss my marriage away. The trouble was, she told me that she wouldn't marry anybody who had less than ten million in the bank. So that ended that."

  "Don't leave town," Ben said. "We may want to talk to you again."

  * * *

  Once they were gone and Donovan was alone in the house, he ran upstairs and grabbed a red phone concealed in a desk drawer. From memory, he punched in a Washington number. As soon as he heard a voice on the other end, Donovan said, "May Day."

  Donovan then turned on the receiver for the listening device he had slipped into Van Buren's coat. The four of them were conferring on the sidewalk in front of his house.

  "Should we believe him?" Joyner asked.

  "Not for a minute," Jennifer replied. "Donovan was lying through his teeth. Does he really expect us to fall for his country-boy routine and that cock-and-bull story?"

  "I don't know what to believe," Joyner said. "One thing, though, Sarah, you'd better get a couple of FBI people over here to keep tabs on Donovan. Don't let him leave the country under any circumstances."

  "Smart idea," Van Buren replied. "I'll have people here within a few minutes."

  Upstairs in his house, Donovan laughed. By the time his FBI watchers arrived, he'd be on his way to Dulles Airport. He opened a wall safe behind a picture, from which he extracted wads of cash and four fake passports with matching IDs. Deciding to travel light, he pulled from the closet a duffel bag he had packed as soon as he got home from Langley today. He set the automatic light timer in the house to turn lights on and off at different hours each morning and evening. To anyone out on the street, it would look as though he were still home. It would be days before anyone discovered he was gone. By then, they'd never find him.

  * * *

  Jennifer and Ben walked in silence to Ben's car, which was parked two blocks away. He was deep in thought, trying to absorb what Donovan had said. Ed Fulton was responsible for Winthrop's death? he wondered. I can't believe that he conned me so thoroughly. I feel sorry for Theo and the kids. Then there was Jennifer's bizarre reaction to what Donovan had said. Why was she so shaken by the mention of Jim Slater?

  He looked askance at Jennifer. "What part of Donovan's story did you believe?"

  "Not much of it."

  He decided to follow his instincts, attacking in a voice tinged with bitterness. "You mean, you don't want to believe that Jim Slater is guilty of conspiracy to commit murder? Is that it?"

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "How well do you know Jim, as you referred to him in the meeting?"

  When she didn't respond, Ben's pangs of jealousy increased. "Does Slater have the hots for you?"

  Her face flushed with anger. "What I do with my personal life is my own business."

  "Wrong. If you're seeing Slater, then you'd better disqualify yourself from working on this, because we now know that he's involved up to his eyeballs. You'll compromise our case."

  She retorted, "All we have to implicate Jim so far is a lot of lies from Donovan." She paused to take a deep breath. "And I haven't compromised a thing."

  "Bullshit!" he shouted. "Keep telling yourself that."

  "Just stay out of my life. And keep the little green monster under control."

  Ben was seething. Dammit, she was seeing Slater, and dammit, he was jealous. "Your boyfriend's also a shit," he said. "Last night after the White House meeting, he tried to dump the whole blame on Fulton for trying to railroad Gillis."

  Jennifer didn't like that, but she didn't know if she could believe Ben. "Can we talk about the case now?"

  "How can we, in view of your involvement with Slater?"

  "Don't start in on that again. Slater's not the issue."

  "Then what is the issue?"

  "Somebody who just made up the world's tallest tale, which you're buying hook, line, and sinker because you want to believe Jim is involved. The idea that Jim would want to murder Winthrop because he was a liability to the administration, which is what Donovan told us, is absurd. That's no motive for murder. Why don't we confront Jim and give him a chance to defend himself?"

  They reached the car and climbed in. Before starting the engine, Ben thought about her suggestion. It was tempting to rush down and confront Slater, but also foolish. "We can't do that. We've got to work our way up the chain of command. We start with Fulton. We're going to talk to that son of a bitch right now." He glared at her. "I assume that no one will tip off Slater in the meantime."

  She shot him a furious look. "That was nasty and uncalled for."

  Ben took a deep breath and pulled back. In a softer tone, he said, "I'm sorry, Jenny. That was horrible. I apologize. It's just that a lot of emotional baggage got thrown into an already difficult case."

  Wanting to back away from the confrontation as well, she put her hand on Ben's arm. "You've got the Fulton complication, too. Wanting to see him now may be an emotional response on your part because he duped you."

  Ben nodded. "You think it's a mistake?"

  Behind the glasses, her blue-green eyes sparkled with intensity. "Let's play it out. If we confront Fulton right now, he'll deny everything. Then where are we? We can't make Donovan testify. We could make a plea bargain with Gwen and get her to testify against Fulton. The trouble is, there's no telling how long it will be until she can answer questions. Without corroborating evidence, we've got nothing. Also, we don't have the vaguest idea of Fulton's motive."

  "That's easy," Ben replied. "He was following Slater's orders. Trying to please his boss. That's the kind of a guy he is. I want to hit him with this cold before Slater hears from Donovan and tips off Fulton."

  "I think it's a mistake."

  Ben wouldn't listen to her. He was aware that his stubbornness was being fueled by jealousy, but he wasn't about to give in to her on anything right now. The clock in the car showed it was a few minutes to six. While he expected Fulton to be in his office, Ben decided to call first to make certain. To his surprise, he heard Fulton's secretary say, "His wife called. One of the kids is sick. He went home early."

  Ben hung up the phone. "Okay, we'll go out to his house," he said to Jennifer.

  When Ben turned left on Wisconsin Avenue, his cell phone rang. It was Art Campbell. "I've got bad news."

  "What happened?"

  "She escaped from the hospital."

  Ben gasped. "This is a joke, right? You're kidding."

  "I wish it were."

  Ben's hands started shaking so badly he pulled off to the side of the road and turned off the car. "I don't fucking believe it. How could t
hey let that happen?"

  "Don't shoot the messenger."

  "Oh, c'mon, Art. It's your police force. This is pathetic."

  "She must have regained consciousness when the guard was looking the other way."

  "I hope you fire that clown."

  "He paid for it with his life."

  "Shit. What happens now?"

  "The D.C. police and the FBI have a huge manhunt under way. We've got all the area airports covered. Train and bus stations. Roadblocks on the highways. We're putting her picture out everywhere. We'll find her."

  "I doubt it," Ben said grimly.

  Jennifer had been tugging on Ben's arm, and he finally turned to her. "What happened?" she asked anxiously.

  "Hold it a minute," he told Campbell. Then he turned to Jennifer. "Gwen escaped from G.W."

  "Oh, my God. I'll call Ann on my cell phone and tell her to keep Amy in the house. Also away from the television," she said, thinking aloud, "so she can't hear about Gwen's escape. Make sure Campbell gets some cops out to your home."

  Ben got back on the phone with Campbell. "I don't have to tell you I'm worried about Amy."

  "As soon as I heard the blonde was on the loose, I reinstated the police protection at your house around the clock."

  "Don't you think she'll be more intent on escaping than on getting back at Amy or me?"

  "We're dealing with a psycho. Let's not take any chances."

  "I guess you're right," Ben said, dejected.

  "Listen, I know you wanted to make a deal with her to find out who hired her."

  "We just found out who it was. You're never going to believe it."

  "Who?"

  "Ed Fulton."

  "That asshole."

  "Jennifer and I are going out to his house now to confront him."

  "Just the two of you?"

  "Yeah."

  "Oh, no, you're not. The guy's a former marine. If he hired a killer, there's no telling what he'll do if he feels cornered. Bill Traynor and I are going with you. They don't need us for the manhunt."

  "C'mon, Art, you have a gunshot wound."

  "Reports of my demise were premature. I've got a bandage on my shoulder. Big deal."

  "You sure?"

  "I wouldn't miss it."

  Art was right. They might need to make an arrest. "Good. Meet us in the parking lot of the Safeway on Connecticut near Livingston, say, in thirty minutes. I'll brief you then. We'll go over in one car."

  * * *

  At five forty-five, Gwen made her move. She walked out of the rest room and down the corridor to room 808. Opening the door a crack, she looked around. As she expected, at this hour the waiting room was deserted. Behind the counter was a heavyset woman wearing a white nurse's uniform. Over the pocket was a name tag that said Agnes. Gwen hoped the doctor was in the office. If not, she'd try another door on the floor. They were all doctors.

  "Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

  "I'm here to see Dr. Herbert."

  "What's your name?"

  "Irene Ross."

  Agnes looked at the screen on the computer that held the doctor's schedule. Without looking up, she said, "I'm sorry, Miss Ross. There must be some mistake."

  "Well, I spoke to Dr. Herbert myself this morning. Could you go back and ask him?"

  The second Agnes left her desk, Gwen went through the door that led to the examining rooms. She caught up with the slow-moving receptionist a few yards from Dr. Herbert's closed door.

  "Hey, you shouldn't be here," Agnes said.

  Gwen pulled the gun out of her jacket pocket and held it by the barrel. The nurse was too stunned to react as Gwen smashed the butt end of the gun over her head, knocking her out. Gwen rolled the receptionist into an examining room, closed the door, and squeezed her hands around the woman's thick neck. She maintained the pressure until she felt the life leaving the receptionist's body.

  Then, she stood up and straightened her brown leather jacket. With the gun in her hand, she walked down to Dr. Herbert's office. Before opening the door, she looked at one of the telephone panels on the wall, making sure that he wasn't on the phone and could tell someone about the intruder. Good. None of the lines were lit.

  Opening the door, she pointed the gun at a bald-headed man in his sixties with a round jovial face, who was sitting behind his desk.

  "Hey, what is this? Agnes, come in here right away," he shouted to the receptionist.

  "I'm afraid Agnes is dead," Gwen said in a stone-cold voice.

  The doctor blanched. "Dead?"

  "That's what I said."

  "What do you want? Drugs? Prescriptions? Anything you want."

  She grimaced from the pain. "Actually, I do want some Percocet, but that's not why I'm here."

  He reached for the phone and picked it up. Before he could dial, she yanked the cord out of the wall.

  Sitting down in front of his desk, she pointed the gun at him. "Now, let's get down to business."

  She gestured toward the framed picture on a corner of his desk, showing Dr. Herbert and his wife, four children, and six grandchildren. "If you want to see them ever again, you've got to do something for me, which is quite easy. If not, you'll end up like Agnes."

  "W-what is it?" he stammered.

  "I assume you've got a car parked in the garage under the building."

  "Absolutely," he said. He reached into his pocket, extracted a Lexus key ring, and tossed it to her. "It's a black Lexus sedan on level L-two in space twenty-eight. It's all yours."

  She gave him a sinister smile. "It's not that easy. We're going together. You're driving. I'll be on the backseat covered by a blanket, which you're going to supply. When we're in the car, I'll tell you where to go. Just remember, I'll have the gun in my hand at all times. We may come across a police roadblock. If I hear anything from you that sounds the least bit suspicious, I'll blow your head off. Then I'll blast my way out of the car. Is that clear?"

  He nodded rigidly.

  "Now get a blanket and the Percocet. Let's get moving."

  A sly look came into his eyes. "I could give you something a bit stronger for pain."

  She scowled. "What do you take me for? You think I'm going to let you knock me out?"

  "I didn't mean that. I—"

  "Just get the stuff and let's go. Don't make me rethink my decision to let you live."

  Chapter 32

  Rather than have four people descend on Fulton, the decision was that Ben and Traynor would go inside while Jennifer and Campbell waited in the car.

  Ben's fingers were moist with perspiration when he rang the bell.

  Theo opened the door, wearing a white apron that said super mom in red letters on top and super wife in blue letters on the bottom. "Ben, what a nice surprise," she said, smiling warmly.

  "I called Ed's office and heard he came home because one of the kids is sick. I'm sorry."

  "Kirstin was throwing up and has a high temperature. It's that time of year."

  Ben introduced Bill Traynor.

  "I'll get Eddie," Theo said.

  .Startled to see them, Fulton led them into his first-floor study and kicked the door shut. He glowered at Ben. "I'm still pissed at you for getting me tossed off the Winthrop case. You made me look incompetent before Mr. Slater and the attorney general. It might kill my career. So if you're here to apologize, you can stuff it."

  "That's not why we came."

  Fulton's frown lifted. "A new development in the case?"

  "Yeah, we found out who hired Winthrop's shooter."

  "Hey, that's great. Who?"

  His interest seemed genuine. Everybody in this case was an actor, Ben thought. "What do you know about a man named Chip Donovan, head of special ops at the CIA?"

  Fulton shrugged. "I may have heard the name. Never met the man."

  "C'mon, Ed," Ben said, going easy. "There's no reason for you to take the rap for Jim Slater."

  His eyes bulging, Fulton looked at Traynor. "What the hell's he talkin
g about?"

  The FBI agent nodded to Ben, who said, "Donovan fingered you as the one who hired the blond shooter."

  "Me?" Fulton sounded astonished. "He fingered me? Is he crazy? What kind of bullshit is this?"

  "He gave us all the details," Ben said. "How Slater sent you to see Donovan. How Donovan gave you the blonde's telephone number."

  "It's all a crock," Fulton shouted. "A total crock."

  Ben looked at him sympathetically. "You don't have to take the rap for Slater. I can cut a good deal for you."

  "You don't get it, do you? There's no deal to cut. Donovan's screwing you over, and you can't see it."

  "I know Jim Slater's responsible. Just confirm it," Ben pleaded with Fulton. "I'll make sure Slater takes the rap. You shouldn't have to walk the plank for his crime. Come on. Talk to me."

  Fulton leaned in close to his face. "Are you stupid or deaf, or both?"

  "If you go down alone, you're looking at murder one."

  "What evidence do you have other than what some spook told you?"

  "Nothing yet. We wanted to give you a chance to cooperate."

  "You think Hawthorne will let you take that to a grand jury?" Fulton asked in disbelief.

  "I'm betting he will. Winthrop was the President's best friend."

  "The jury would see in a minute that I'd been framed. The next convenient scapegoat when your case against the gardener didn't stick."

  Ben held his hands wide. With a voice full of sympathy, he said, "Listen, Ed, I can cut a deal with you. The case doesn't have to go to any jury. Just tell me why you did it and who else was involved with you."

  "You really don't get it, do you?" he said, raising his voice. "Someone's trying to frame me, and you two numbnuts fucking don't get it."

  Ben was starting to lose his temper as well. "Instead of shouting at us, why don't you tell us who's trying to frame you?"

  "The Chinese government, you idiots. They were clever enough to arrange the video setup in London. They pulled this off the same way. They hired Gwen. They worked with Alexandra Hart. With the kind of money they have to play with, they easily could have pulled this off."

  Ben shook his head. "I questioned the Chinese ambassador myself. They didn't do it."

  "He conned you, Ben. He was eating you for lunch, and you couldn't even tell what was happening."