by Allan Topol
Jesus, that's what she made for me, Ben thought. Not only is she the mother of the year, but now she's Martha Stewart.
"Kirstin had a nightmare, she started screaming. Eddie went upstairs to quiet her down. Jimmy came into the kitchen and watched me beating for a couple of minutes. I do it by hand, the old-fashioned way. He came over and rubbed my shoulder. 'That's tough work,' " he said.
"What did you say?"
" 'You're right. My shoulder's killing me. That feels so good.'"
"And then?"
She hesitated.
"And then?"
"You've got to realize that I'm not a loose woman. Sometimes you marry someone and they change. They become less likable than the person you married." She was looking at Ben for understanding because he had known her husband. "You know what I mean?"
Ben nodded.
"In contrast to Eddie," she continued, "here was Jim Slater, so suave and debonair, and he showed genuine caring. I know it's a small thing, but in all the years I've made zabaglione, Eddie never asked me if my shoulders got sore."
"And then?" Ben repeated.
"Jimmy moved in close to me from behind. He pressed his body against me and cupped my breasts in his hand. 'That feels so good,' he said."
At the end of the table, Jennifer was cringing.
"And then?" Ben asked.
"I stopped beating and turned around. He kissed me. His mouth felt good. His hands started unbuttoning my blouse with an urgency that Eddie hadn't shown in years. I knew this was crazy. That Eddie would be back any moment. So I pulled away and buttoned up. He pleaded with me to see him. So we began dating."
"Dating?"
"We'd get together at his house every couple of days for dinner or lunch and..."
"Sex?"
"That too," she said happily. "He swept me off my feet with his charm and charisma. Jimmy can be that way."
Ben shot a glance at Jennifer, who looked away.
"So you had an affair with him?"
"You make it sound so squalid. We love each other, and we have plans. His marriage was nothing. A formality. In a year he expected Brewster to pick him to be chairman of the Federal Reserve Board. Then he planned to divorce his wife. I'd divorce Eddie, and we'd get married. After a couple of years as chairman of the Fed, he was planning to run for the presidency. I'd be the First Lady. That was the plan."
Jesus Christ, Ben thought, do I really need to know how Slater gets women in the sack? Trying to curb his impatience, he asked, "So how's this relate to Winthrop?"
Her brow darkened. "He found out about us and ruined everything."
"Who?"
"Winthrop," she said, as if it were a vile curse. "Jimmy told me that once Winthrop knew about the Chinese video, he blamed Jimmy for putting the Chinese up to it. He had become paranoid about Jimmy. He hated Jimmy because Jimmy was so much better and was gaining the President's respect. But it wasn't true."
"What wasn't true?"
Her tone remained venomous. "Jimmy had nothing to do with the video. The Chinese did that themselves. But Winthrop decided to get even by finding some dirt on Jimmy, knowing his wife was out of town and so forth. So he used private detectives. He had a picture of me going into Jimmy's house one night. He also had one of Jimmy kissing me good-night at his front door. Winthrop planned to tell the President about Jimmy and me at Camp David on Sunday—the day after he was killed. He figured that way Jimmy's career in Washington would be over."
Puzzled, Ben looked over his notes. Something wasn't making sense. "But what about the compromising video the Chinese had on Winthrop? If Slater told Brewster about that, wouldn't Winthrop go down in flames as well?"
"According to Jimmy, Winthrop was convinced the Chinese would never go public with the video. That they were only bluffing. He was prepared to stare them down. 'To tough it out,' he told Jimmy. As for Brewster, Winthrop felt that when it came right down to it, Brewster would stick by him because of their friendship. You know how it is when somebody excuses a friend regardless of what he does." She stopped and fiddled with her wedding ring.
Ben was surprised to see she was still wearing it. "So how'd you get hooked up with Gwen?"
"Jimmy told me to call Chip Donovan from the CIA. I went to meet him at his house in Georgetown one night when Eddie was working. He gave me her name. I called her and had a couple of meetings with her at the Jefferson Memorial."
So Donovan had cleverly shaded the truth to them, substituting one Fulton for the other. Jennifer had it right: He had been lying all along.
"And Alexandra Hart?"
"Jimmy knew her from his investment banking days in New York. He used her to set up escorts for clients. He gave me her phone number, and I called her pretending to be Mrs. Winthrop, just as Jimmy told me to do."
"So he had you doing all the dirty work?"
She grimaced. "Jimmy said that he was too public a figure to have meetings with these women. He told me I was doing it all for our future."
Ben could only shake his head. She read his thoughts and looked away at Jennifer, who refused to meet her gaze.
"What about the gun and money? Did you plant those in the gardener's truck?"
She shook her head. "Once Eddie told Jimmy that the gardener had emerged as a suspect, Jimmy had someone put the gun and money in his truck."
"Who?"
"I don't know. He didn't tell me."
Ben glanced through his notes.
"Okay, now let's turn to your husband's death. When did that idea come about?"
"On Sunday evening when you and Jennifer returned from London. Jimmy said the situation was dicey. We had to do some contingency planning in case things went south on us. We had to fix it so Eddie took the fall."
"And the amitriptyline?"
"Jimmy told me what to buy and where. He gave me a doctor's name and ID number. He said he knew the pharmacist, who would never check."
"And you went along with all of this?"
She looked troubled. Clearly Slater had had to convince her. "Not at first. I argued with him that I didn't want to kill Eddie. He said that he didn't want to either. We should just have the stuff in the house as a last resort. Only if it was absolutely necessary, Jimmy said."
"And then?"
"Jimmy called."
"When?"
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Ben saw she was on the verge of tears. "Christ, I don't know. A couple days ago, I guess. The day Eddie died. I can't remember exactly."
"And?"
"Jimmy said that he'd heard from Donovan, who had to give them Eddie's name. Now we'd have to be vigilant. Eddie would deny his involvement. As long as he did that, it could never get traced back to us. So I was supposed to keep my eye on Eddie. Then Jimmy asked me what phone I'd used to call Alexandra Hart and Gwen. I told him that I'd used the phone at my house and Eddie's cell phone. Jimmy didn't yell, but I could tell he was unhappy about that. He said that would come back and hurt us, which I guess was right. So I reluctantly agreed to give Eddie the large dose of amitriptyline and make it look like suicide. Jimmy said he was so sorry, but we didn't have a choice."
"Did he tell you to do it?"
She thought about the question. Ben was giving her a way to lessen her guilt. She hesitated, then rejected it. "We arrived at the decision together, I guess. Neither of us wanted to do it, but we didn't have a choice. I called Eddie to come home early. I had to really yell at him. Then you guys came the first time. I listened behind the door and called Jimmy to report. He told me that I had to do it. I agreed." She stopped, wiping away tears. "So I did it."
"You put the amitriptyline in the chocolate mousse you gave Ed?"
She nodded. "Uh huh. I also wiped the water glass on his mouth and his fingers against the glass and the bottle of pills. I was wearing gloves. My plan was to take away the chocolate mousse and run the dish through the dishwasher. Unfortunately, I didn't have time. I had just finished typing the note when you rang the bell."
"Have y
ou seen Slater since your husband's death?"
Looking despondent, she turned her head down toward the table and fiddled with her wedding ring. "He hasn't called me since Eddie's death."
You were as big a fool as I was, Jennifer thought.
"Have you called him?"
"No, we haven't spoken."
"Let's take a break," Ben announced.
While a guard escorted Theo and her lawyer to the cafeteria in the courthouse, Ben remained behind with Jennifer, Campbell, and Traynor. The FBI agent stood up and wrote the name Slater in chalk on the blackboard. "What do we have on him?" he asked.
"Write 'not enough,' " Ben said.
"She's given you powerful testimony," Jennifer interjected.
"But it'll come down to a question of whom the jury believes. I don't like cases like that. Particularly with someone smooth and convincing like Slater on the other side. We need more."
While Ben looked over his notes, Jennifer's mind was racing on all cylinders trying to find a way to build an ironclad case against Slater. Suddenly, she had it. "Have her arrange a meeting with Slater and wear a wire."
Ben shook his head in disbelief. "After Slater finds out she's been arrested, he'll never talk to her."
"What if we don't book her, and we don't hold her?"
Ben gave her an outraged look. "How can we release a murderer just like that? Besides, if Slater calls, she'll warn him. She's still got the hots for him."
Jennifer was two steps ahead of Ben, though. "We station a couple of female undercover cops in Theo's house posing as nannies—on revolving shifts. We tell Theo to act normal. The nannies stick with her at all times and listen in on all calls. If she does anything to tip Slater off, she loses her immunity and faces murder one. That's the arrangement."
Ben nodded. "I like it, I guess."
"So what's the script for her conversation with Slater?"
"Let me take a crack at a draft," Jennifer said sourly.
"He won't be easy to nail. He's smart and savvy. Somebody like that won't say, 'Oh, I'm so sorry that I told you to kill your husband.' "
"C'mon, Ben," she said in disgust. "I know that. But don't forget she did a good job of acting the night her husband died. She sure as hell fooled you."
Ben pulled back. "Ouch, that stung."
The old tension between them was coming back. "Well, it's true."
"And what if he starts messing around with her first? He'll see the wire and—"
"Give me credit for some smarts. At this point, you know I want to nail him as much as you do."
That was a certainty, and he was relieved. Deep in thought, Ben cut across the room to the blackboard, where he picked up a piece of chalk and flipped it from hand to hand a couple of times.
Jennifer knew that something was bothering him. "What don't you like about my idea?"
Without responding, Ben turned toward the blackboard, wrote down Gwen, and put a circle around it. "Even if your plan works, it's not enough. At least not for me. Sure, I want to nail Slater, but it still leaves Gwen out there somewhere. That means I'll have to spend every minute of my life worrying about when she'll come to get revenge on Amy. I know she'll come. Make no mistake about it."
As Ben looked around the room for agreement, it was deathly still. Silence from the others meant assent, he thought grimly.
"So let's bring Gwen to the party too," Jennifer said. "Theo can call Gwen on her cell phone and tell her things are turning bad here. They've got to do some damage control."
Traynor scratched his forehead. "She's a real pro, that one. She may smell a trap."
Excited by Jennifer's suggestion, Ben brushed aside Traynor's concern. "Suppose she doesn't take the bait? We haven't lost a thing."
"Oh, she'll come, all right," Campbell said in a dark tone that alarmed the others. "She'll come because she'll want to kill Theo—the only witness against her for Winthrop's murder."
Ben was charged. "We can protect Theo. It's a question of the right setup." He turned to Traynor. "Why don't you go find them in the cafeteria and bring them up?"
Traynor didn't move. "Not so fast, Ben. We've got to think this through. We're asking a lot from Theo to put her life on the line. You gave her as much as you could by agreeing to a two-year sentence. She's met her end of the bargain."
"I'll lean on her hard. Tell her it's part of the deal."
"And Talbott will tell you to fuck off unless we've got something else to motivate his client—like eliminating jail time."
Ben ran his hands through his hair. "To hell with that. She's already got the best deal we can offer."
"Then you'd better come up with something else."
Ben looked dejected. Traynor was right. "What do you think, Jenny?" he asked.
"I've got an idea."
Ben smiled. "That's what I figured. I could smell the wood burning."
"She always has an idea," Campbell quipped. "Which is what's been saving your ass in this case."
"Put Theo in a cell overnight," Jennifer said. "In solitary. Let me talk to her in the morning."
Ben was puzzled. "What'll you do then?"
"You wouldn't understand. It's a girl thing."
* * *
"Mr. Peng, please," Donovan said to the operator who answered the phone at the Taiwan Trade Mission in Paris.
"And who should I tell him is calling?"
"Gus Brock from New York," Donovan said in French, using the code name that he and Peng had used for communications over the last several years they had worked together.
A few moments later, Peng came to the phone.
"My company is interested in building a plant in Taiwan," Donovan said. "I was told that you could help me."
Peng knew that Donovan wanted to meet him to discuss an urgent matter. "Perhaps we can meet over lunch today and discuss this new plant," Peng said. "I'll make a reservation at Pre Catalan for one o'clock. We can meet in front of the restaurant. Is that agreeable?"
"Excellent. I think it best if we discuss this matter ourselves before advising others."
"I understand."
Two hours later, Donovan entered the large grassy park known as the Bois de Boulogne. Approaching Pre Catalan on foot at twelve thirty with a copy of the morning Herald Tribune in his hand, Donovan scanned the park in every direction. Satisfied that no one was there, he sat down on a bench about fifty yards from the entrance to the restaurant.
The wind was whipping through the park, blowing the leaves. Donovan turned up the collar on his coat against the cold. Calling Peng was a gamble on his part. He was betting that Joyner hadn't put the word out among intelligence services of friendly governments that Donovan had jumped out of the boat, as they said at Langley, and shouldn't be rescued. Or if she had, that Peng was willing to entertain a better offer.
At precisely one o'clock, Donovan saw a black BMW pulling into the restaurant's parking lot. Peng climbed out and walked slowly toward the front of the restaurant. As he looked around, he saw Donovan on a park bench holding up a newspaper. Peng turned and walked that way.
"Would you like to talk over lunch?" Peng asked. "The tables are well spaced."
Donovan was relieved. Peng would never have suggested talking in a public place if he had known that Donovan was on the run from Joyner and the CIA. So the news wasn't out on the street yet.
"I would prefer to walk," Donovan replied.
He took the path that led away from the restaurant back toward the city. If this was a setup, he wanted the option to avoid being trapped in the deserted park.
"What happened with Operation Matchstick?" Peng asked.
"Chen was compromised. They were all arrested at the missile base before the bomb was set. They tortured Chen. He coughed up my name."
"How do you know that?"
"Liu, their ambassador in Washington, told Cunningham."
Peng didn't like that news. "Who compromised Chen?"
"I wish I knew." Donovan hesitated, shoving his hands into
his pockets. "I thought it might have come from your end. Somebody sympathetic to Beijing."
Peng shook his head. "It's possible, but I don't think so. Is that why you wanted to see me?"
"It's more complicated than that."
Peng took a package of cigarettes out of his pocket and pointed to a bench. "Let's sit."
Satisfied no one was around, Donovan followed Peng to the bench. The moment of truth had come. He wasn't certain that he could trust Peng. The trouble was, he didn't have a better idea. "I'm persona non grata in Washington," he said quietly. "If Joyner finds me, she'll put me under arrest."
Peng took a deep puff on the cigarette, blowing out the smoke in circles while absorbing what Donovan had said. "Because she didn't authorize Operation Matchstick?"
"That's part of it." Donovan stopped there. Taiwan had viewed Winthrop as a friend. Donovan didn't dare say that he'd played a role in the secretary of state's death.
Peng sat silent. A patient man, he was waiting to hear why Donovan had called this meeting.
"I want to make an arrangement with your government," Donovan said.
"What kind of arrangement?"
"I want to come and live in Taiwan. It'll have to be done in secret, because if Joyner finds out and Washington seeks extradition, I suspect your government will turn me over, regardless of what your laws provide."
Peng nodded, then took another drag on his cigarette. "You're asking us to risk a lot. Washington will be furious if they ever find out. Without their backing, Beijing would gobble us up in a minute." He let the cigarette smoke flow out in a thick stream. "So what do we stand to gain?"
Donovan had known all along they'd get to this question. "I'll tell you everything I know about Beijing's intelligence operations. I'll give you suggestions for operations you can launch against them. I'll tell you where your own points of vulnerability are."
When Peng didn't respond, Donovan added, "Don't forget that at Langley we've spent years playing war games that involve China and Taiwan. I know a lot about them."
Peng put out his cigarette. "I can't make this decision myself."
"I appreciate that. How long will you need to consult with Taipei?"
"A few days. Until, say, next Tuesday."
"Good. I'll call you Tuesday morning and suggest a meeting place. Will you assure me that no one on your side will leak this to Washington?"