Dark Ambition (56 page)

Jennifer was ecstatic. "It's better if you call from your house. They may have caller ID."

* * *

When Gwen's cell phone rang, it was resting on the table next to her bed, where she had been stretched out counting the hours until Tuesday.

"Things have gotten dicey in Washington," Theo said, knowing that Gwen would recognize her voice.

"They always do," Gwen replied in a flat, unemotional tone that concealed her surprise. All of her senses went on alert. Gwen had read about Ed Fulton's death in the newspaper. Had the cops nabbed her? Were they trying to lure Gwen back to Washington?

"I think we should talk," Theo said.

Gwen decided to let Theo play her cards. Here was a chance to kill Theo and eliminate the only witness who could tie her to the Winthrop murder. "What do you have in mind?"

"Tomorrow evening at nine," Theo said, following the script Jennifer had given her. "There's a bar in the lower level of the Hay Adams. It should be deserted then."

"Tomorrow doesn't work for me." Gwen didn't want to tell her about the bandages and surgery. "It has to be Tuesday night."

Theo was delighted by the delay, which meant she'd be out of jail longer. "Tuesday's okay with me. The Hay Adams at nine in the evening."

"Not the Hay Adams. It has to be the Lincoln Memorial, at midnight. In the chamber. Next to the Lincoln statue."

"I'll be there," Theo said, and hung up.

Ben was furious when he heard what Theo had agreed to. "The Lincoln Memorial?" he blurted out. "It's the single worst place in Washington to try to defend someone." He looked at Campbell and Traynor. "You guys know I'm right. Don't you?"

Theo was chagrined. "Gwen insisted on the Lincoln Memorial. What could I say?"

Jennifer jumped to Theo's defense. "You did the right thing." She shot a look at Ben, irritated with him for shooting his mouth off when they were still with Theo. "Don't pay attention to him. He gets emotional. We'll make it work." She pointed at the phone. "Now call Jim Slater. Let's get the other guest for this party."

Reminded of her anger at Slater, Theo sounded hard and cold when she told Slater's secretary that she should "interrupt the great man" in his conference to tell him that she was on the line.

Slater cleared two aides out of his office in record time. There was a wariness in his voice as he said, "Theo, how nice to hear from you."

"We have to talk, Jimmy. I hesitated calling you so soon after Eddie's death, but I've missed you so much. I want to see you."

"There's nothing I'd like more than that. How about coming by my place tonight. Say around nine?"

"Complications have developed. We can't risk being seen together." Her voice was shot through with anxiety. "I'm scared, Jimmy."

"Don't worry, honey. Where do you want to meet?"

"The Lincoln Memorial. It'll be deserted. We can talk freely."

"What?" he said, astounded. "Why the Lincoln Memorial?"

"That's the first place Eddie and I went when we moved to Washington...." She let her voice trail off, making him think she was losing it. "Please, Jimmy. Do it my way."

When he answered, his voice was much more cautious; he obviously wanted to keep her calm. "I'll be there. Whatever's bothering you, we'll deal with together. You can count on me."

"At midnight, Tuesday night. That's the best time."

"What?" Then his voice lowered instantly to a purr. "Fine, honey. Midnight, Tuesday night."

When Theo put the phone down, she said, "I know it's eleven in the morning, but if you guys don't mind, I'm opening a bottle of wine."

* * *

In Ben's kitchen, Traynor finished a turkey sandwich and said, "It's not perfect, but here's the plan for Tuesday night."

Ben, Jennifer, and Campbell were watching him carefully.

"Point one is that at midnight all the park rangers and people are gone. The memorial and grounds should be deserted. Point two. There's only one way up or down from the memorial—via the seventy or so steps in front. Point three. We can't put a SWAT team anywhere around the memorial. There are no office buildings within range. Gwen's certain to case the place ahead of time. If we put armed agents in the bushes or the trees, she'll see them and run. Same result if we try to move them in once the meeting starts. The whole area will be dark, but she'll have the commanding view from up on top."

"So how do we protect Theo?" Jennifer asked.

"There are two green wooden booths at the end of the reflecting pool on the memorial side that have information about POWs and MIAs. They're manned twenty-four hours a day. The people who run those booths will cooperate with the park service, which lets them use the grounds. So an hour before the meeting we put one FBI sharpshooter in each of those booths, pretending to be manning them."

Jennifer was tapping her fingers on the kitchen table. "But the meeting will be in the chamber where Abe is. With all those marble columns in front, how will these sharpshooters be able to hit Gwen?"

"I told you the plan's not perfect. They could get her when she goes up the stairs, but Ben doesn't want that because he needs Theo to talk with Slater and Gwen so he can get a tape of the incriminating information. Right?"

Ben nodded. "Precisely. Theo will be wearing a wire."

"Wrong," Traynor said. "We'll give her a microphone to attach to the base of the statue, just in case one of them decides to check her for a wire."

"That's a good idea," Jennifer said. "But I assume that you'll still put a Kevlar vest on her."

Traynor nodded. "I wouldn't do it any other way. It'll be cold. It shouldn't show under a heavy coat."

"That's okay with me," Ben added.

Jennifer was still worried about Theo. "I don't see how you're going to get Theo out and capture Gwen after we get what we need on the tape."

Traynor took a deep breath. "The four of us will be in a van on the other side of Memorial Bridge listening to their conversation while it's being recorded. Another van with an FBI SWAT team will be behind us. Once we hear and record the incriminating evidence, our van drives to the front of the memorial with the other van behind. The instant we're in front all the lights go on around the memorial, and the two sharpshooters sneak out of the green booths and up the stairs. A chopper with more armed agents heads across the river as well. I jump out with a bullhorn and tell the three of them to come down with their hands in the air. If Gwen makes any move to resist, the sharpshooters take her down. That's it."

Ben was nodding his approval. "I like it. It'll work."

Jennifer eyed the silent Campbell. "What do you think, Art?"

He glanced nervously at Traynor. "It's Bill's show."

"You can tell them," Traynor said.

Campbell crossed his arms over his chest. "Personally, I hate it. I think we'll end up with a hostage situation with Gwen grabbing Theo or Slater, or both. I think a lot of lives will be lost before it's over, and I think a stone killer like Gwen may be able to slip away in the confusion."

Jennifer looked glumly at Ben. "Theo's got two young kids. It's crazy putting her at risk like this."

Ben wasn't budging an inch. "I've got a young kid, too. The world's full of young kids, and they're all at risk as long as that psychopath is on the loose. Besides, I want Slater, and this is the only way I can get them both. With the Kevlar vest, Theo will be okay."

Jennifer and Campbell weren't convinced.

"And if it doesn't work," Traynor said, "Ben and I will both be selling drinks to tourists along the reflecting pool for the rest of our lives."

Nobody laughed.

* * *

"This is Gus Brock," Donovan said when Peng picked up the phone.

"I'm ready to meet with you again to discuss that new plant. Would lunch at Pre Catalan be acceptable to you?"

"Le Divellec on the Left Bank would be more convenient. It's a nice day. Why don't we meet on the Left Bank, at the Pont des Invalides, in thirty minutes and walk from there?"

As Donovan hung up the phone, he replayed in his mind Peng's words. Paris hadn't been mentioned. There was no tension in the man's voice that Donovan could discern. He'd have to take a chance.

He had given himself another measure of protection. He had made the call from a cell phone in a brasserie one block from Invalides Bridge. From this spot, he could watch the meeting place for the next half hour. He wasn't wearing a coat over his black suit and black turtleneck shirt, but he didn't need it. The adrenaline was keeping his blood warm. This was the endgame.

Donovan was relieved when nothing happened in those thirty minutes. Once Peng arrived, Donovan nodded to him, then began walking along the Seine past artists' stalls with paintings for sale. Peng fell in beside him. This time the Taiwanese had no illusion they would be eating lunch.

"I have good news for you," Peng said.

Donovan held his breath. "Yes?"

"You'll be welcome in Taiwan, and your presence will be kept a secret. A comfortable house is being prepared in the mountains."
      

"It doesn't have to be lavish."

"We view you as an honored guest."

Feeling pleased, Donovan said, "I'm a man of simple tastes."

Peng laughed. "I know what you like. You'll have an excellent chef. A woman to provide comfort and other recreation. A constant supply of Macallan."

"What else is there?"

"Indeed." Peng took out a cigarette and lit it while Donovan watched a barge pass by. "When will you arrive? I want to be there to meet you."

"I'll come over on Friday. A flight from Tokyo. The passenger's name will be John Green. I won't select a plane until the last minute. Check all manifests of incoming planes from Tokyo."

"Will do."

"They must regard you as a hero in Taiwan for landing me."

Peng nodded. "Nobody believed it fell into my lap."

"That's the way I wanted it. Now that you owe me, tell me who compromised Chen."

Peng blew a fat, lazy circle of smoke in the air. "It wasn't at our end. The leak to the Chinese came from Washington."

Donovan was mystified. "But I ran the operation myself because there are so many Beijing sympathizers in the American government. I even kept it from Joyner." He began searching his mind. "Winthrop found out about Operation Matchstick from somebody in Taiwan," he said, thinking aloud. "When I told him that I'd call it off, he seemed to accept that." Donovan ran his hand through his thick gray hair. "I only did that so I could buy time. So I could talk to Slater about what I should do—" Then it hit him. "Oh, shit, Slater. It can't be." Wide eyed, he looked at Peng. "Slater?"

Peng nodded. "Slater leaked your plans for Operation Matchstick to Ambassador Liu in Washington."

"Why in the hell would he do that? He hated Winthrop."

"According to my source, Slater wanted to curry favor with the Chinese. He saw himself being President one day. He wanted to have a major IOU in Beijing. He sees Beijing as a world power. Taiwan he views as a 'pimple on the elephant's ass.' Those were words that Slater used."

Donovan looked mortified. "I had no idea that he was sympathetic to Beijing. He deals with domestic policy and economic affairs. Not foreign policy."

"He may not have any ideological views on the subject of Taiwan, but I gather that he's pragmatic and opportunistic."

"That's the understatement of all time."

"So when you handed him the chance to put Beijing in his debt, he jumped on it." Peng shook his head in disgust. "I hate seeing him get away with it."

Donovan thought about Ophelia's message. If Joyner was ready to arrest him, chances were that by now they had found out that Slater's foxy girlfriend, Theo, and not her dumb-ass husband, had come to Donovan for Gwen's name. That meant they were all going down. Winthrop and Fulton were already out for the count. Slater and Theo would be making license plates in prison. Donovan would be the only survivor. He'd be fucking his brains out and drinking single-malt scotch in tropical splendor. Maybe, as his late mother used to say, everything happened for the best. There were always winners and losers.

 

 

 

Chapter 37

 

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.