by Allan Topol
Gwen parked the rental car along Constitution Avenue, a few minutes' walk—or a two-minute run if she had to beat a hasty retreat—from the Lincoln Memorial. It was almost ten, and heavy clouds and fog had moved into the Washington area, as they often did in November, snuffing out the light from a half-moon. Rain was expected, but not until daybreak Wednesday morning. Gwen thought the conditions of poor visibility were perfect. She was wearing dark-lens infrared night-vision glasses that let her see objects as if it were daylight. Dressed in a dark brown leather jacket, denim jeans, and black running shoes, she wouldn't stand out. In her hand she clutched a black canvas bag containing an Uzi as well as other weapons. As she walked, the .380 Waltham PPK automatic with a sionics suppressor in her jacket pocket bumped against her bruised rib cage, which was healing slowly. She didn't mind the pain. It reminded her of Ben and Amy... her second stop tonight, his house on Newark Street. She hoped Ben didn't show at the memorial. Killing him here meant that she wouldn't have the pleasure of having him see his precious Amy suffer and die before his eyes.
She angled off along a path that led toward the reflecting pool in front of the memorial. Then she cut to the right, following along the pool. She unzipped her jacket pocket so she could go for the gun on an instant's notice. The area was deserted. The park rangers and tourists were gone. The lights had been turned off inside and around the memorial.
Her eyes were constantly in motion as she checked the area, perusing the trees on both sides of the pool. If this was a setup and the FBI had a SWAT team in place, here was where they'd be, although she knew how they operated. It was unlikely they'd be here two hours before the meet. One hour was SOP, which was why she had come so early. Still, she couldn't take a chance.
Approaching the end of the pool closest to the memorial, she spotted what appeared to be soldiers on the other side of the pool behind the trees. What the hell? There were at least six men in army uniforms. She darted onto the grass, behind a large oak, and pulled out a pair of night binoculars.
A smile of relief came over her face when she realized what it was. The Korean War Memorial consisted of statues depicting soldiers in army uniforms. She had forgotten it was buried in a clump of trees, where very few tourists ever saw it.
Satisfied no one was around, she crossed the road and began the long climb up the stairs to the memorial. First there were ten steps. Then a flat area. Ten more and another flat area. After that she began a steep climb up thirty stairs. She walked along a short flat area and began her final ascent of twenty more steep marble steps.
As she climbed, she glanced over her shoulder at the two green POW/MIA booths. Nothing looked out of the ordinary there. Eager to seem like a tourist and not wanting to draw attention to herself if the people manning those booths were awake, she decided to forgo more careful scrutiny of them until she reached the top of the steps. She moved over to the right, examining the bushes on the ground below for any movement, but they were still. She angled across the steps to the left and looked there. Again nothing.
Maybe, just maybe Theo had set this up alone, Gwen thought, but she wasn't willing to bet her life on it. At the top of the stairs, she slipped behind one of the thick marble columns. Dropping her bag at her feet, she took the binoculars out of her pocket and surveyed the entire scene below. Nothing looked unusual. There were no armed men in the trees. The two men, one in each of the POW/MIA booths, looked precisely like the grizzled Vietnam vets she expected to see there. The Washington Monument straight ahead was barely visible in the heavy fog. There was no shadow for it to cast over the reflecting pool.
She nodded a greeting to Honest Abe sitting on his marble throne, then reached into her bag and pulled out a small round white object resembling a shirt button. On one side, the button had a sticky adhesive. She jumped up and stuck it on the top of the monument base under Lincoln's feet. It was a microphone that would let her hear anything said in the chamber via a set of earphones in her bag. The color of the buttonlike object was a perfect match for the aged marble of the statue. If Theo or anyone else saw it, they would think it was simply a rough spot in the marble.
Feeling in control, Gwen moved toward the wall that had Lincoln's second inaugural speech cut in stone—across from the Gettysburg Address. In front, on her right was the door to the closed gift shop. She ignored that one and headed toward the rear of the chamber and a door leading to a maintenance room. It was locked, as Gwen had expected. In a few seconds, she picked the lock and entered the pitch-dark room.
Rather than turn on the light, which might be seen under the door, she took a small flashlight from her bag and looked around. There was a chair next to a desk that she could sit at with her earphones on. The desk would hold her weapons. There was another door at the far end of the maintenance room. Very few people knew about that door. It opened to an internal staircase running to the exhibit room downstairs. If need be, it provided another means of escape for Gwen.
She checked her watch. An hour and fifteen minutes until midnight. She had some cold chicken in her bag, which she ate and washed down with coffee from a thermos. She needed her energy. It might be a long night. She was now ready for anything. If Theo came alone, Gwen would come out and talk to her. If not, and it was a trap, she knew precisely what she'd do—and heaven help them.
* * *
Ben and Traynor established the command post for the operation in a ground-floor conference room at the FBI building, a five-minute drive from the memorial. When the round white clock on the wall read ten-fifty, Traynor said to the two FBI sharpshooters who would be pretending to be manning the POW/MIA booths, "Time to get in place. Don't use the road in front of the memorial. Enter from the side, cutting through the trees from Constitution."
"Will do," they snapped back, and headed toward a van waiting on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Fifteen minutes later, a van with Ben, Jennifer, Traynor, and Campbell set off for their waiting spot on the Virginia side of the Memorial Bridge. All four of them were dressed in dark green military camouflage uniforms with greasepaint on their faces. They were wearing Kevlar vests. Without telling anyone, Jennifer had decided to bring her gun in her jacket pocket, just in case. A second van followed with armed FBI agents. Behind it was a car with one female FBI agent driving and another in the back with Theo.
At eleven-thirty the car dropped Theo behind the memorial where Gwen couldn't see them. On her own now, Theo circled the memorial on foot, toward the stairs in front.
The driver called Traynor to report, "subject is on her way up to the memorial. We're heading toward your waiting location. Over."
"Roger," Traynor replied.
"Hey, wait a minute," Ben said in the back of the van. "Who's watching Theo now?"
"Nobody," Traynor said. "She'll be on her own for a couple of minutes until she attaches the microphone for our recording device, and the others come."
"Suppose she runs on us?" Ben said nervously.
Jennifer responded, "Get real, Ben. She won't run on those kids. Our problem will be to make sure she stays close enough to the microphone and gets the other speakers there as well. It's a large chamber. If they drift away from the microphone, we'll never get what we need on the tape."
In a voice crackling with tension, Traynor said, "I told her sixteen different times that's key—to stay close to the microphone. I think I got through to her."
Jennifer was sorry she'd said it. They were all feeling the pressure. "Sorry, Bill. I know you did. I just hope she doesn't forget."
As she climbed the steps to the memorial, Theo's knees were knocking. I must have been insane to agree to do this, she thought. She'll kill me. I'll never see my kids again.
* * *
In the maintenance room, Gwen heard footsteps through her earphones as Theo's heels clicked along the marble floor of the chamber. Gwen peeked through the door and saw the target. A great wave of relief washed over Gwen's body as she saw that Theo was alone. Her relief dissipated as she watched Theo
head straight for the base of the statue, extract a small object from her purse, and stick it to the monument base. Well, well. You disgusting cunt, Gwen thought. You're working with the Feds. Big mistake, Theo. You picked the wrong team.
Gwen's first instinct was to shoot Theo and then head down the internal staircase and blast her way out if they had troops in place. She grabbed her gun and aimed at Theo. Then she pulled back. She was developing a better scenario. Right now they didn't know she was here. That put all the advantage on her side.
She checked her watch. It was five minutes to twelve. She closed the door to the maintenance room and resumed listening.
* * *
At precisely midnight, Theo saw Jim Slater get out of a car and begin climbing the steps. She moved close to the microphone and said, "Jimmy is on his way up. No sign of Gwen."
In the back of the van, Traynor gave a thumbs-up sign. At least they had landed one fish so far.
"Hello, Jimmy," Theo said when Slater reached the top of the stairs. She moved forward to great him.
"Helluva place you picked to meet," Slater said, regarding her up and down. "It's freezing out here."
Theo was trying to remember the script Jennifer had written for her and gone over a dozen times. "I wanted a place where nobody could see us. After all, this soon after Eddie's death I couldn't take a chance."
"Well, if that's what you had in mind, you certainly picked the right spot." There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.
Nervously, Theo looked down the stairs and around the area along the road, wondering if Gwen was coming.
Slater picked up on it. "What are you looking for?" he asked, turning around and glancing down the stairs himself.
Theo was furious at herself for being so obvious. Slater was smart. She'd better be careful or he'd be tipped off. Her best bet now was to assume that Gwen wasn't coming and follow what Jennifer had said was script two, for Theo and Slater alone. "I just want to make sure you weren't followed," she said in a deep, throaty, sensual voice.
That sounded more like the woman he knew. "You don't have a thing to worry about. We're in the clear."
She remembered that she'd better be close to the microphone, or they wouldn't hear a thing in the van.
"I'm also cold," she said. "Let's move back away from the wind."
She backpedaled toward the statue, with Slater following her. "Poor baby," he said, "let's see if I can warm you up a little."
He leaned forward and kissed her, with his tongue darting into her mouth. When she didn't respond, he began unbuttoning her coat. She was afraid he'd find the Kevlar vest, which would blow the whole thing. With a sly smile she slipped away from him. At the base of the statue, he caught up to her. From behind, he pressed his erection against her. He slipped a hand under her skirt, around to the front, and into her panties. "No, Jimmy," she said, forcing her legs together.
He looked confused and disappointed. Afraid of losing him, she stopped and rubbed her hand against his crotch, massaging the bulge in his pants. "You want me, Jimmy," she said. "You want me. Don't you?"
"Do I ever, honey. Yeah, stroke my prick like that. It feels so good."
In the back of the van they listened to the amplified voices in disbelief. Ben turned to Jennifer and said, "That was quite a script you wrote for Theo."
Jennifer blushed. "At least we know the mike's working."
With Theo's hand still on his crotch, Slater said, "I could drop my pants and take you from behind, the way you like it. It'll warm both of us up."
Theo abruptly pulled her hand away. Then, to cover, she said, "I can't do this now," pretending to be crying. "I'm too scared. I've got to talk to you. Maybe later we can make love."
"What's wrong, honey?" he said, stroking her cheek.
"What's wrong is that you never think about anybody else. Only yourself."
Slater was startled by her mood change. "What do you mean?"
"When I called you, I said that we had to talk. So far, you never even asked me why." She broke into tears that weren't entirely pretend.
"Hey. C'mon, Theo, what happened?" He awkwardly patted her hair, trying to comfort her.
"You don't even care."
"Of course I do. I just asked."
She wiped her nose and sniffed back more tears.
"Your protégé deserves an Oscar," Ben said in the van.
Jennifer was too engrossed in Theo's conversation with Slater to respond.
"The cops won't quit about Eddie's death," Theo said.
Slater stiffened in alarm. "What do you mean?"
"They keep coming back to the house. They're checking every prescription we have for names of pharmacies. They've dusted the den for prints twice. They're checking phone bills and phone records. They know it wasn't a suicide. It's only a matter of time until they find the pharmacy where I bought the shit. Then what?"
"They'll never find it," Slater said, trying to sound confident. "You'll be okay."
"I thought of a better solution."
Slater was wary. "What's that, honey?"
"You've got all that power in the White House. The President controls the FBI and the police. You could get them turned off."
Slater fidgeted. He didn't like where this conversation was headed. "How are your kids?" he asked, trying to change the subject. "How are Kevin and Kirstin doing?"
Theo snarled. "How the hell do you think they're doing? They miss their father. They cry all day. I don't know what to do."
"Take them away over Thanksgiving."
"We're going to my parents'." She started to cry again. "I should never have killed him."
Slater stood apart, not knowing how to handle this. "Neither of us wanted to do it. We did what we had to do," he soothed.
She shouted, "We could have let him live!"
"C'mon, Theo," Slater said, "you've got to calm down. Remember where we were." He tried to sound regretful. "I didn't want to make that call to you. I would have given anything to let him live. We had no choice. I had to protect you and our dream. Look at the big picture. In five years, you'll be in the White House. First lady. You'll be far away from all of this."
She kept on sobbing.
"Sometimes little people like Ed have to die," Slater said. "So people like us can achieve our dreams. Can help the country. That's what you have to remember."
She began crying louder, sounding hysterical. "You don't hear my kids at night. You don't know how awful it is."
Slater was losing his patience. "C'mon, Theo, get hold of yourself."
"Don't be so fucking cruel."
He'd had enough of her whining. "This isn't why I came here tonight. To take shit like this."
"You don't know what it's like to have children. You and your wife never—"
"Cut the sob story," he said, raising his voice. "Don't get carried away. If you hadn't made the calls from your house, I wouldn't have had to tell you to kill him. What the hell were you thinking of? Or I guess you weren't thinking, huh?"
She punched her fists against his chest. "How did you think I was going to make the calls? I have two little kids. I can't just leave them by themselves. I should have told you to call Alexandra and Gwen yourself. Killing Winthrop was your idea. I never even met that man."
"Don't be a goddamn moron. I explained it to you six times. If Winthrop told the President about us, we could have kissed it all good-bye. Our dream together."
"Big fucking deal," she cried. "Right now our dream's been flushed down the toilet."
"Oh, forget it," Slater said, exasperated. "I'm leaving. This isn't why I came to see you. Call me if you come to your senses."
He was about to walk away when she caught the lapel of his coat. "Don't go. I'm sorry, Jimmy." She was almost whimpering. "I shouldn't have said those things."
At last he smiled and kissed her. "Don't worry. I'll always take care of you."
In a quiet voice, against his cheeks, she said, "Then you've got to talk to your friend, the Preside
nt, and get the cops off my back so they won't prosecute me. You can do it."
He jerked back away from her. "It's not possible," he said in a hard voice. "And don't ever fucking ask me again."
"You dirty bastard," Theo replied, equally sharp. "Either you get me immunity, or I'm going to testify against you and that monster Gwen. I'm going to bring the two of you down to save myself. I can do it. You watch me. You'll both fry."
Slater laughed at her. "For sure you'll be able to bring down Gwen, because the two of you plotted Winthrop's murder, but you can't touch me. I've covered all of my tracks. You'll never even be able to establish we had an affair. You keep your mouth shut, or you and that psychopath witch will fry."
Slater's taunt made Gwen explode. With gun and rope in hand she burst out of the maintenance room and advanced toward Theo and Slater. They were too stunned to speak. While Theo watched in horror, Gwen went directly to the microphone Theo had planted on the statue base. She ripped it off and hurled it onto the grass below.
Then she turned to Slater. "I'm Gwen. Here, let me show you what a psychopath witch can do."
She kicked him viciously in the balls. He made a choking grunt of pain, then toppled to the ground.
Pointing the gun at Theo, Gwen tossed her the rope. "Tie his ankles together and tie his wrists with his arms above his head," she barked.
* * *
In the van they weren't hearing any more sounds from the recorder.
Jennifer was alarmed. "What's going on?"
"Theo must have moved away from the microphone," Traynor said.
"Let's get over there," Ben snapped. "It doesn't matter if Gwen didn't show. We've gotten all we need to nail Slater. Let's close up shop."
Traynor shouted, "Move it," to the driver of their van. Then he told the driver of the second van to remain in place. There was no need for an army at the memorial with just Slater and Theo. Likewise, he told the chopper to remain back for now.
* * *
In the memorial chamber, as a shaking Theo bound Slater's ankles and wrists, Gwen sneered at him. "You're not pinning this on me. You were responsible for the whole thing."