Talk (32 page)

"Then count on me," Cassy said, going over to her chair to pick up her jacket.

"I'll get Langley to cover for me and I'll produce your special. What are you looking at? Think I've lost my touch?"

Alexandra looked startled.

"No." She blinked. And then shrugged.

"Well, okay, come on, we've got work to do."

"He's got a slight concussion and a broken cheekbone," the doctor reported.

"A bunch of bumps and bruises, but he'll be okay."

"He doesn't look okay," one cop said dubiously, looking at James Plattener, who was sitting on the end of the examination table in a paper gown, eyes staring vacantly ahead. He had red wounds and purple marks all over his pale body, but his bare legs were nonetheless pressed modestly together and his hands were folded neatly on his lap.

"So, Dirk, would you care to explain these?" Agent Kunsa asked the former FBI agent in the interrogation room, throwing a stapled bunch of papers down on the table They were reduced photocopies of detailed building plans.

Dirk leaned over to look and shrugged as he made eye contact with his lawyer.

"I don't know what those are."

"They're copies of the blueprints for Rockefeller Center," Norm told him.

"So?"

"So you worked with these same plans as an active agent when President Clinton visited Rockefeller Center."

Dirk shrugged again.

"I don't remember."

"You personally gave them to the Secret Service to plan security at that event."

"I still don't remember."

"As you can see on this set of the plans," Kunsa continued, pointing, "the maintenance passageways are all carefully detailed."

"If you say so," Dirk said, yawning.

"But the plans you gave out to security for Jessica Wright's book party at Rockefeller Center did not include all of the maintenance passageways. Someone had blanked part of them out."

"You'll have to ask the NYPD about that."

"We did. The copy they gave you had all the passageways marked on it."

"I wouldn't know about that," Dirk said.

"What about this man?" Norm said, sliding a photograph onto the table.

It was a head shot of Jessica's kidnapper, the man she had called Hurt Guy.

"What is his name?"

"I have no idea," Dirk said, sliding it back across the table

"That's funny, since you know him very well," Norm said.

"I told you, I have no idea who he is," Dirk said.

"Makes me want to give him a swift kick in the teeth," Detective Hepplewhite whispered to Agent Cole from behind the observation glass of the interrogation room. He was whispering because there were others in the room with them.

"He's been like this from the beginning," Cole whispered back.

"And it doesn't look as though Denton's going to make it. And when he dies, so will the link between Lawson and the kidnapping."

Hepplewhite didn't say anything, but stared stonily ahead into the interrogation room.

"You know that we've got you. Dirk," Norm Kunsa was saying, "bang to rights for attempted murder."

"Oh?" Dirk said.

"Who is it I am supposed to have attempted to murder?"

"This man," Norm said, pointing to the picture.

"But I told you, I've never seen him before."

"Oh, you've seen him before," Norm said, starting to pace.

"In fact, I introduced you to him."

Dirk Lawson looked at Kunsa with the first spark of interest.

Norm took a turn around the room before continuing.

"I personally introduced you to this man when you were active with the bureau."

"That's not true," Dirk said.

Norm walked on.

"How do you know it's not true?"

"I know because I've never met this man."

"And I'm telling you that you have. Dirk," Norm said, turning to him, "because I personally introduced you to him. He was a CIA operative named Calvin Den- ton who collaborated with us on the Gedonia drug bust in Miami in 1989."

Dirk looked at his lawyer.

"He's making this up."

"Fine, whatever makes you comfortable to think, Dirk," Norm said, resuming his stroll.

"I just wanted you to know what I will be testifying to at your trial."

"Then you'll go to jail for perjury," Dirk told him.

"No," Kunsa said.

"I don't think I will."

"Did Kunsa introduce them?" Hepplewhite whispered.

Agent Cole didn't answer.

Hepplewhite looked back into the interrogation room.

"Why do I get the distinct feeling he's going to get off?"

"Maybe because he set everything up in preparation for this day should it ever arrive," Agent Cole said, sounding bone-tired.

"But we know he had to be in on it," Hepplewhite said.

"There's got to be proof somewhere."

"He's a trained agent," Cole said.

"He knows everything there is to know about proof and how to get rid of it."

"All right. Dirk," Agent Kunsa said, "let's go back to your attempt to murder Calvin Denton while he lay dying."

Lawson looked bored.

"I've got two excellent eyewitnesses--a highly decorated New York City detective and one of the most revered news anchors in America--who saw you pull out a stun gun, set it on the highest charge and move in to shock Denton with it."

Lawson sighed, sounding put out.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I found the stun gun in the mental hospital and had it in my pocket. When I kneeled down to see what the injured man could tell me about the perp's whereabouts, I pulled it out in case the perp was faking and he tried to attack me. If it was set for the highest charge, it was set on that before I found it."

"Why didn't you pull out your gun?"

"I didn't have a gun. I couldn't pack one when I had to fly and you never issued me one in Buffalo."

"Why did you pick up the stun gun? You know not to touch the evidence."

"Given the fact we were in a hostage situation with a known murderer, it was reasonable to annex any weapon of the perp's.

Which brings me to a question," he said, following Norm's stroll around the room with his eyes.

"What the hell was Waring doing packing a nine millimeter?" , "She's licensed to carry," Kunsa told him.

"She's got a permit."

"She always made out to me she was very antigun," Lawson mused.

Kunsa turned to smile.

"A very wise policy, don't you think? Given the fact you turned out to be such a fucking scumbag lowlife?"

Trying to sound as though he was attempting to humor him. Dirk said, "I didn't do anything. Norm. You're way off base."

"Too bad Hepplewhite didn't let Alexandra just blow you away," Kunsa sighed, circling the table

"So what were you going to do afterward.

Dirk? If you had used the stun gun and killed Denton? What were you going to do when the autopsy showed that he had seven broken ribs, a critical concussion, cerebral hemorrhage, broken wrist, smashed kneecap, massive internal injuries and a blood pressure next to dead?

How were you going to explain the danger he presented you--danger that required pumping as many electrical volts into him as you could? "

Lawson just shook his head, as if disgusted.

"This is going to mean your career. Norm. You can't go around arresting innocent people.

Remember Richard Jewel and the Atlanta bombing. "

"This is getting us nowhere fast," Hepplewhite muttered, turning from the window abruptly.

Agent Cole moved close to him.

"So do you get a crack at Plattener?"

"That's what they tell me, for the Bea Blakely murder."

"Where are you going to put him?"

"Riker's for now," Hepplewhite said. He looked at his watch.

"I've got to get going. Listen," he said, moving even closer, "Rafferty's bringing Jessica back to New York in a few days. If this" -he tossed his head in the direction of the interrogation room "--continues, I think we should pay her a visit and talk to her about Denton. What do you say?"

"I say Norm will have a fit. We're supposed to leave her alone."

"And I think we need to talk to her about Denton. Just you and me--quietly. What do you say?"

"I say okay," she replied.

// h, that's beautiful," Jessica murmured as she came out of her hospital bathroom, spotting the clay pot of white and purple African violets on the windowsill. She was showered and dressed, her arm bandaged and in a sling, and now all they needed was for the hospital staff to bring a wheelchair so she could check out. Her head and face had dreadful bruises on it, and except for a little patch of hair on the back of her scalp and less than a quarter of one eyebrow, she was bald, and so she had a bandanna tied over her head. At first it had taken a great deal of coaxing to allow Will to see her like this (" Even Demi Moore had eyebrows in G. I. Jane," she had complained to Alexandra over the phone.

"I look a lot more like Uncle Fester after being mugged." ), but she was glad she had agreed to see him. The way he had been looking at her ever since told her everything she had needed to know. He did love her, even like this.

"Who are those from?" she asked, referring to the flowering plants.

"And how is it I am so lucky as to see them?"

Blanket policy at DBS was that flowers sent to West End from fans were automatically redistributed to area hospitals and nursing homes. As a result, the same DBS policy had gone into effect here in Buffalo and Jessica hadn't seen any of the flowers well-wishers had sent, i although she had heard the oohs and aahs up and down the hall from everybody else on the floor who | had become their recipients. | "They're from my mom," Will said a little sheepishly | "Your mother?" Jessica exclaimed, delighted.

"Well | then, I'm taking these home!" She walked over to the windowsill and lightly traced the rim of the low clay pot with her left hand. Then she turned around.

"Do you really think she'll like me?"

He had to laugh.

"Oh, gosh, yes."

"Even after she reads my book?" Jessica winced.

"I think if I were a guy's mother, I'm not sure I'd want my son to be involved with a woman who admits to having had so many" -She closed one eye.

"Experiences?"

"Oh, Jessica," he sighed, coming over to her.

"Sit down, darling," he said, quietly, sitting on the corner of the bed and pulling her next to him.

"I need to talk to you for a minute."

She waited as Will looked down for a moment, scratching his head. Then he took her left hand in his and looked up.

"My father scarcely ever drew a sober breath in all the years I knew him. And yet my mother loved that man like-Well, she loved him like no man who acted the way he did ever deserved. He destroyed my mother's life."

"Not completely," Jessica disagreed.

"Because she has you--and your sisters and your brother. You've all turned out so well. And you love each other."

"What I mean is," he started again, choosing his words with care, "she fell in love with a young man and married him. And I don't have to tell you how a lot of our parents took their vows in a much more sacred way than most people do today."

She nodded.

"She was going to stand by hint in sickness and in health," he continued, "and after four kids in six years, I don't think she had much choice but to stay with him, but by then he had really turned into a son of a bitch. I mean, Jessica, this guy was the meanest drunk. And every once in a while he'd try to go on the wagon and Mom would get so excited and so happy and full of plans and then" -Will shrugged.

"You know, then one night, he'd come staggering in and she'd cry and he'd beat the hell out of me because I'd block his way when he tried to take a swing at Mom and..." He shook his head, voice trailing off.

After a moment, he continued.

"And you know? I think the thing that bothered me the most was that Mom was from such a good, hardworking family. They weren't rich, but they were comfortable, stable, never really wanted for anything. And then with Dad, she was thrown into the worst kind of poverty. The kind where even if there was money, a lot of it never made it home. Like she knew he had just thrown away the money that would have fed us for the week, or paid the rent, or might have eased things in some way. Like, God forbid, my mother ever had a dime to spend on herself." He looked away, sighing, "Oh, man," in a faltering voice.

Jessica swallowed.

Will brought his eyes back to her. They were moist.

"I called my mom while you were missing. I was really upset. But it wasn't just being scared to death about where you were and if you were all right.

Jessica--back at West End, they were raking through your past.

Everybody was going over your ex-lovers and, well, one r night stands. They were trying to track all these guys down. "

Jessica closed her eyes. "} didn't even think of that."

"No reason why you should!" he told her.

"It's the past."

The way he insisted that it was the past made Jessica know how very much it must be torturing him in the present. He was human. The authorities had probably been pretty thorough, which meant-Which meant an awful lot of embarrassing and humiliating stories, not to mention downright sick behavior, some of which she had scarcely hinted at in her autobiography because her editor had feared it would alienate readers.

Jessica opened her eyes.

"So you called your mother because you realized you couldn't go through with this. That you had rushed into this relationship with me and then discovered you couldn't deal with my past. You couldn't deal with how many men I had slept with."

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression caught somewhere between pain and concern.

"It's all right. Will," she murmured, dropping her eyes.

"I can understand that. And I think we should take a step back, particularly now. I mean, you've gone from being a boyfriend to a nursemaid for an invalid, and now you not only have my past to deal with, you've got this mess to wade through. And there's no reason for you to do it."