Dark Ambition (35 page)

Ben looked expectantly at Campbell.

"Mrs. Gillis kept the phone number," he said. "It's a pay phone on the corner of Twelfth and L. Mrs. Gillis also gave me her account number at Riggs Bank." He stopped to pat his pocket. "And a note that lets me get any information about her account."

Ben decided at this point it was all right for him to speak up. He turned to Campbell. "I think we better go down to Riggs Bank and see about that deposit."

* * *

They left Jennifer's red SAAB convertible on Quincy Street and set off in Campbell's unmarked car to the main branch of Riggs Bank. The detective didn't take a direct route. He wove around streets and back alleys of southeast Washington until he was certain they weren't being followed.

At the bank, Ben and Jennifer waited in the car, parked on Pennsylvania Avenue, which was off limits to vehicular traffic, while Campbell went inside alone.

In the high-ceilinged marble lobby resembling a shrine as much as a bank, he sat down across the desk from a pale, thin young man with black horn-rimmed glasses resting halfway down his nose. On his desk was a sign with gold letters that said, Harvey Miller, Vice President. The banker studied Lucinda Gillis's note carefully.

"Without Ms. Gillis being here," Miller began, "I'm afraid that—"

"If you even dream about giving me any shit like that," Campbell said irately, "I'm going right to Mr. Parker, who always cooperates with the police. You'll be Harvey Miller, former vice president."

The detective's harsh tone, coupled with invoking the name of the president of the bank, had the desired effect. Miller pushed back his glasses and began punching buttons on the computer on his desk. The screen immediately sprang to life.

"Last evening at five fifty-eight p.m., Washington time, a wire transfer of ten thousand dollars was made into the Gillises' account."

"Where'd the money come from?"

"Credit Suisse in Zurich. Number Twenty Bahnhofstrasse."

"From whose account in Zurich?"

"There's no name. Only an account number." Miller didn't wait for the detective to ask. He wrote the Swiss bank's name, the address, and the account number on a small piece of paper, and handed it to him.

With a deadpan expression, Campbell came out of the bank and got into the car. Before he could open his mouth, Ben said, "Well, what happened?"

Campbell looked at Jennifer and smiled. "Was he always so impatient when you used to date him?"

She returned the smile. "He has lots of good qualities. Patience isn't one of them. No way I could change him."

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

Campbell reached into his pocket and handed Ben the piece of paper Miller had supplied. "How good are your contacts at the Department of the Treasury?" Campbell asked. "They might be able to shake some more info free from Credit Suisse, but maybe not. From my experience, those Swiss bankers are tough customers."

"We can't go to Treasury," Ben responded. "If someone high up in the administration's involved, a call to Treasury will set off the alarms bells. I'll be tossed off the case, for openers."

"We need someone in Zurich," Jennifer said.

Ben's mind was racing ahead. "A few years ago I prosecuted a high official at Treasury for corruption. Same as now, I had to make an end run around official connections to Swiss banks. I developed a relationship with Jack Carmack, a CIA operative in Zurich, who hates the Treasury people because of their haughtiness. Carmack's well wired into the Swiss banking industry."

"Would Carmack help you," Jennifer asked skeptically, "in a case like this when you're operating on your own?"

Ben realized it was a long shot, too, and he frowned. "It's worth a try. We'd have to do it in person because the CIA routinely monitors the calls to and from Carmack, and we don't want to tip off people in Washington. What do you think?"

"We've got no choice," Jennifer said.

Reluctantly, Ben nodded in agreement.

"So now we've got a bank in Zurich and a madam in London to work with," Jennifer said.

The detective offered, "Sounds to me like you two are headed to Europe."

At this suggestion Ben instantly looked worried. "What will happen to Amy if I'm gone?"

Campbell responded, "I'll personally spend time at your house and watch her go to and from school. I hate to put it this way, but as long as you're not planning to be with her all day, she'll be as safe whether you're in Europe or downtown."

Ben wasn't satisfied. "No, I can't do that," he said, shaking his head.

"Let me call Ann," Jennifer volunteered. "She'd be glad to stay with Amy while we're gone. She's been dying for grandchildren." Seeing Ben was unconvinced, she added, "To get started, the two of them can spend some time together when Amy gets home from school today—before we have to leave for the airport."

"Ann Winthrop is hardly my idea of a bodyguard," Ben replied.

Jennifer reached into her briefcase and extracted the picture of the man with the broken nose in the video store parking lot. "This gentleman might disagree with you about that."

* * *

Voice mail is great, Ben thought. It's the perfect way to leave messages for people when you don't want to talk to them.

From the phone upstairs in the study in his house, he left identical messages for Hennessey, Traynor, and Fulton. "Sorry, I had to go to Chicago for a couple of days on the Young case. This shouldn't pose any problem for the Gillis prosecution because there haven't been any new developments. I have plenty of time to get ready for trial."

He smiled when he hung up from Fulton's voice mail. For forty-eight hours he and Jennifer would simply vanish. Only Campbell and Ann knew their itinerary.

Jennifer walked into the room. "Art Campbell called on the other line. He made a copy of the video, which will be delivered here before we leave for the airport. They finished analyzing Winthrop's pants. It was precoital fluid, no doubt about it."

Ben cringed. He wondered what type of sick game the blonde had played with Winthrop—making him think he was going to fuck her when she blew him away.

Jennifer was looking at him curiously, and he quickly changed the subject. "How are Amy and Ann getting along?"

"Fabulously. Ann's really into dressing up Barbies."

Ben went downstairs to spend some time with Amy before they left for the airport, while Jennifer called her office to check for messages. Kathy said Jim Slater had called but didn't leave a message. Jennifer checked her watch. There was time to return the call.

To her surprise, she heard Miss O'Brien, Slater's secretary, say that she'd pull him out of a meeting. What did he want that was so important? Jennifer wondered.

"I called to see if your workload has changed for the weekend. Is California now doable?" he asked.

She smiled. "Persistent fellow, aren't you?" Her tone was gentle and playful.

"I'm not used to rejection."

"Poor baby. But it's not rejection. Just deferral."

He sounded elated. "Deferral I can handle. Tell you what. The first weekend after the Gillis case is over, I'll take you to London for the weekend. We'll stay at the Connaught. Three shows. Meals at Gordon Ramsey and The Square. How's that sound?"

He sure knew the right things to say to a girl. "Sounds great."

"Good. It's a deal."

"Hope you win your polo match on Saturday."

"I always win."

"Modest fellow, aren't you?"

"Talk to you when I get back."

* * *

Ben drove to Dulles Airport in his Volvo. Telling Jennifer to look for any car following them, especially a dark blue one, he tried every trick he could remember from any detective movie. Feeling a little like James Bond, he went up streets one way, and down the other. He made sharp quick turns, pulled to a stop, and waited. He got off the beltway twice—once at Old Georgetown Road and once at River Road—and back on again quickly, always watching the rear-view mirror.

All of this time, a mile behind the Volvo, at the wheel of her own car, Gwen watched Ben's antics with amusement. Get into the modern age, you dope, she thought. With electronic homing devices, you don't have to see a car to follow it.

When he finally parked at Dulles, she parked three lanes away and waited until he stepped inside the terminal before exiting her car. From a distance, she saw him and Jennifer in line at the United international counter.

She picked the lock to a dark gray door that said united employees only. None of the flight attendants lounging around between flights paid any attention when she sat down behind a computer. Looking very official, she punched the keys. Before Ben and Jennifer even boarded the plane, she had their entire itinerary. Zurich tonight on United. London tomorrow afternoon on British Air. An open return to Washington.

She exited the room and went to a pay phone downstairs. Using a phony credit card number that AT&T's automated system took, she called Zurich. A gruff-sounding man answered, "Herr Wilhelm."

Then he recognized her voice and cheered up.
"Meine kleine madchen,"
he said, eager to do the bidding of the blond goddess.

Five minutes later when Gwen hung up the phone, she had a puzzled expression on her face. She knew why Ben and Jennifer were going to Zurich, and she had arranged with the help of Karl Wilhelm to deal with them there. But why London?

There must be facts related to Winthrop in London. But they hadn't told her about those facts. They had concealed them from her. That made her very angry.

 

 

 

Chapter 21

 

Ben had a strategy for dealing with Jennifer. He waited until the plane had leveled off at thirty-five thousand feet, and they were sipping white wine.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you," he said in a no-nonsense tone. "Now you're going to listen to me."

She saw the determination on his face and groaned. "We're getting along so well now. You want to ruin it all?"

"I have to tell you the story of what happened."

With her eyes she pleaded with him to stop. People made mistakes. She was willing to move on, but he wouldn't let it rest. "Can't we leave it alone? Just keep on the way we are now?"

"I can't do that. You've got to hear me out."

She could see that she had no choice, and it was too bad. Since this morning, she had enjoyed being with him again. She was starting to feel the old, easy companionship they used to share. He didn't wow her like Slater, but in a way she was more comfortable with that. She was hoping that they could at least be friends.

She made one more futile stab at stopping him. "Really, Ben," she said, trying not to sound dogmatic, "whatever happened, happened. Some things are best left undiscussed."

"Not this one, Jenny. Please let me tell you about California."

He was so serious, she tried to add some levity. "Since I don't have a parachute and it's a full plane, I guess you've got your audience."

"Good, let me start with the bottom line." He whispered, "I didn't do anything with her at all."

Jennifer shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, right."

"Well, let me explain."

Her voice was ten degrees frostier. "Ben, this was your idea. I'm willing to listen."

"It was a Saturday afternoon when Terry called," he began slowly. He had this memorized.

"I know it was a Saturday afternoon," she interrupted. "I was the one who answered the phone. I happened to be addressing our wedding invitations at the time, as you just might remember."

A little steamed, he replied, "I remember exactly what you were doing."

"When I answered the phone, she asked for you, and I said, in my most polite future-wifely little voice, 'Can I tell him who's calling?' She told me it was none of my fucking business, which was just lovely."

"C'mon, Jenny, she was in bad shape. She was diagnosed a couple days later as being depressive and suicidal. When I picked up the phone, she was threatening to slit her wrists with a kitchen knife."

"So my fiancé, a brilliant trial lawyer without one ounce of psychiatric training, decided to drop everything and fly to Los Angeles."

All of the old anger flared up like it was yesterday. "You knew what had happened to my parents. You knew that Terry and I had been raised as brother and sister. That both of her parents were dead. That there was no one else who could help her. You knew all of that."

"I also knew," she countered, "that you and Terry had dated when you were both seniors at Berkeley. In fact, if I recall, when we discussed our prior relationships early on, you said that before me Terry was the only woman you had ever dated seriously. I think that was your term."

Ben grimaced. Jesus, Jenny had a steel-trap mind. "Yeah, I did say that. I also told you that dating her had been a mistake. She was screwed up even then at Berkeley. Into coke and other drugs, which I didn't touch."

"But the sex with her was great."

Actually, it had been fantastic when they were at Berkeley together, Ben remembered, but the sex was all they had together. He didn't tell Jennifer that.