Dark Ambition (44 page)

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 interview," 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."

That was the opening Ben had been looking for. He was getting an idea. "He wanted to impress you with an early arrest." In a low voice he said, "Do you think Ed could have planted the phony evidence in the gardener's truck?"

Slater's eyes lit up with alarm. "Jesus, I hadn't thought of that." He stopped to consider what Ben said. "I guess the money's easy. But where would Ed get the gun to plant in the truck?"

Ben shrugged. "One of the FBI people could have found it at Winthrop's house. Ed tells him not to say anything. Presto, he's got a way to look like a hero in the eyes of his boss."

Slater looked appalled by this idea. "What are you going to do? Follow up by talking to Ed? Or do you want me to?"

Ben shook his head. "Leave it alone for now. Ed's not going anywhere. Liu has to be our focus. We have to find out who was responsible for the murder. There'll be time enough later to deal with an overzealous government lawyer."

Slater nodded his acquiescence. "On that subject, if you want my opinion, I think you're right on target going after Liu." The chief of staff looked around nervously to make sure no one could overhear them. Cunningham was at the far end of the room talking to Brewster. "I'll give you some advice, though. Liu's going to be tough to nail. He has a powerful friend"—Slater paused to cock his head at Cunningham—"right here in this room, who's not going to let that happen."

While pretending to gather up her papers and tapes, Jennifer had been watching Ben and Slater engaged in conversation. They were quite a contrast, those two. Even late in the evening Slater was perfectly dressed and clean shaven, with his hair slicked down. Ben's hair was uncombed, his suit and shirt were rumpled, and the dark shadow on his face indicated that morning had been a long time ago. Ben was emotional, moving his hands and questioning with his face. Slater looked smooth, calm, and cool. So what does all of this tell you? Jennifer asked herself.

* * *

"I'm not afraid of being interviewed," Liu said to Cunningham. They were in Cunningham's house sipping armagnac. The tall antique grandfather clock in the corner of the wood-paneled den had just struck midnight.

"Ben Hartwell's smart," Cunningham said. "Don't underestimate him."

"I don't have anything to hide."

"He knows about the two videotapes taken from Ann. He has photographs to establish that someone at your embassy was responsible. Those aren't matters to be proud of."

Liu shrugged his shoulders. "It's all part of the normal conduct of foreign affairs."

"Assassinations don't fit into that category."

"I quite agree." He leveled his gaze at Cunningham. "We didn't assassinate anyone."

Before Cunningham had a chance to respond, the ambassador yawned. He'd had enough of Cunningham for one night. He had a wonderful young staffer waiting in his bed. He wanted to go home to her. He drained the rest of the armagnae and rose to leave.

Cunningham said to him, "There is one other thing."

"What's that?"

"I think it would be best if you clarified to Hartwell that I had no idea about your effort to blackmail Winthrop until the meeting at the White House this evening."

Liu smiled weakly. "You said it would be best. Best for whom?"

Cunningham bit his lip, suppressing his anger. "Think long and hard tonight about what you just said."

"Meaning what?"

"If you plan to shoot at a king, then you'd better kill him."

"But I don't see a crown on your head, Marshall Cunningham."

* * *

"It's time to move, Comrade Li," the captain from the front of the truck said as he poked Chen, who was dozing in his cot.

Chen bolted upright and rubbed his eyes. It took him a few moments to orient himself. "I'm ready."

The captain took Chen's suitcase and duffel bag and exited the barracks with Chen two steps behind. Outside, Chen, dressed in an army uniform, climbed into the back of the truck, which seemed to be the same one in which he had arrived. There were only five other soldiers in the back. This time, a second truck with six soldiers followed behind. The two trucks headed out on a deserted road under a cloudy sky.