The Mark of the Assassin (14 page)
Michael switched off the radio.
Elizabeth said, “He’s dancing on air.”
“Who?”
“Braxton.”
“He should be. His man won, and now he gets to be secretary of state.”
“The firm threw a party for him this afternoon when he got back from the press conference at the White House. He blathered on and on about how it was the most difficult decision of his life. He said he turned the President down the first time because he didn’t want to abandon the firm. But the President asked a second time and he couldn’t say no twice. God, it was such a bunch of bullshit! Everyone in town knows he’s been campaigning for the job for weeks. Maybe he should have been a litigator instead of a deal-maker.”
“He’ll be a good secretary of state.”
“I remember a president who said, ‘My dog Millie knows more about foreign policy than my opponent.’ I think that applies to Sam Braxton as well.”
“He’s smart, he’s a quick study, and he’s damned good on television. The professionals at Foggy Bottom can deal with the nuts and bolts of policy. Braxton just needs to make tough decisions and sell them to the American people and the rest of the world. If he does that, he’ll succeed.”
Elizabeth told him about her conversation with Susanna Dayton.
“She asked me for help. I told her I couldn’t do it. It was unethical and I could be disbarred. She dropped it.”
“You’re a wise woman. Why didn’t she go with the story?”
“She didn’t have the goods.”
“That’s never stopped Susanna before.”
“Michael!”
“Elizabeth, the press looks a little different when viewed from my seat.”
“She thought she had the goods, but her editors didn’t agree. They spiked the piece and told her to keep digging. She was furious. If the story had come out before Election Day, it would have been big news.”
“Is she still working on it?”
“She says she is. In fact, she says she’s making serious progress.” Elizabeth laughed. “You know, the two biggest winners in this whole affair are Sam Braxton and his client, Mitchell Elliott. Braxton gets to be secretary of state; Elliott gets to make ten billion dollars building kinetic kill vehicles for the missile defense program.”
“You think there’s some connection?”
“I don’t know what to think. You should have seen them at the dinner party after Beckwith made the announcement. My God, I thought they were going to kiss each other.”
The expressway ended, and they passed through the town of Riverhead. Michael headed north along a two-lane country road bordered by immense fields of sod and potatoes. A full wet moon dangled low in the eastern sky. They turned onto Route 25 and raced eastward across the North Fork. Now and again the trees broke, and Long Island Sound shone black in the moonlight.
Elizabeth lit a cigarette and cracked the window. It was a signal that she was nervous or angry or unhappy. Elizabeth spent all her energy dissembling at work all day. When she was at home or surrounded by friends, she was pathologically incapable of concealing her emotions. When she was happy, her eyes flashed and her mouth curled into a permanent smile. When she was upset, she stalked and snapped and frowned. Elizabeth never smoked when she was happy.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You know what’s wrong.”
“I know. I just thought you might want to say it out loud.”
“All right, I’m nervous as hell this isn’t going to work and that I’m never going to be able to have a baby for us. There, I said it. And you know what? I still feel like shit.”
“I wish I could do something.”
She reached out and took his hand. “Just be there for me, Michael. The one thing you can do for me is to stay at my side throughout this thing. I need you there in case it doesn’t work. I need you to tell me it’s all right and you’ll still love me forever.”
Her voice choked. He squeezed her hand and said, “I’ll love you forever, Elizabeth.”
He felt helpless. It was an alien sensation, and he didn’t like it. By nature and training he was suited to identifying problems and solving them. Now he could do very little. His physical contribution would take place in a small dark room in a matter of minutes. After that he could be supportive and attentive and caring, but Elizabeth and her body would have to do the rest. He wanted to do more. He had asked Carter to be allowed to work out of the New York Station and to shorten his hours. Carter had agreed. Personnel was on the backs of all chiefs and supervisors about raising the Agency’s dismal morale. Carter groused that the Agency should change its motto from “and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” to “people caring about people.”
“I’m going to tell you one other thing, Michael. I’m not going to get crazy about this. I’m going to try it once. If it doesn’t work, I’m going to give up, and we’re going to move on with our lives. Do I have your support on that?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Susanna and Jack tried four times. It cost them fifty thousand dollars, and it made her crazy.” She hesitated. “She’s convinced Jack left her because she couldn’t give him children. He’s crazy about that shit. He wants a son to carry on the family name. He thinks he’s an ancient king.”
“I think it’s fortunate she didn’t have a child. Jack would have left her anyway, and she’d be a single working mother.”
“What do you know that I don’t know?”
“I know he was never happy, and he wanted out of the marriage for a long time.”
“I didn’t know you boys were so close.”
“I can’t stand the sonofabitch. But he drinks, and he talks. And I’m a good listener. I’m trained to be a good listener. It’s made me the victim of quite a few crashing bores in my day.”
“I love her to death. She deserves to be happy. I hope she finds someone soon.”
“She will.”
“It’s not as easy as it sounds. Look how long it took me to find you. Know any good single men?”
“All the single men I know are spies.”
“Case officers, Michael. They’re called case officers.”
“Sorry, Elizabeth.”
“You’re right. The last thing I want Susanna to do is marry a fucking spook.”
Michael drove onto the ferry with five minutes to spare. It was windy and bitterly cold. The ferry bucked across the choppy waters of Gardiners Bay. Spray broke over the prow, washing over the windshield of the rental car. Michael got out and leaned against the rail in the frigid November night air. Across the water, on the shore of the island, he could see the Cannons’ floodlit white mansion. The senator loved to leave the lights on when they were coming. Michael imagined bringing children on the ferry. He imagined spending summers with them on the island. He wanted children too—as much if not more than Elizabeth. He kept these feelings to himself. The last thing she needed was more pressure.
They arrived on the island and drove through the village of Shelter Island Heights, the streets dark, the shops tightly shuttered. It was late autumn, and the island had returned to its normal quiet state. The Cannon compound lay a mile outside the village on a finger of land overlooking the harbor on one side and Gardiners Bay on the other. As they pulled into the drive, Charlie came out of his cottage, flashlight in hand, retrievers at his heels.
“The senator turned in early,” he said. “He asked me to help you inside.”
“We’re all right, Charlie,” Elizabeth said. They kept clothing at the house so they could come up for weekends without bothering to bring luggage. “Get back inside before you freeze to death.”
“All right,” he said. “Good night to both of you.”
They crept into the house quietly and walked upstairs to their large suite of rooms overlooking the harbor. Elizabeth opened the shades; she loved to wake up to the sight of the water and the purple-orange light of winter dawn.
A passing shower awakened them sometime after midnight. Elizabeth rolled over in the dark and kissed the back of Michael’s neck. He stirred, and she responded by taking his hand and pulling him on top of her. She wriggled out of her flowered flannel nightgown. His warm body pressed against her breasts.
“God, Michael, I wish I could have a baby with you like this.”
He entered her and her body rose to his. Elizabeth was surprised at how quickly she felt her body release. The orgasm washed over her in wave after wonderful wave. She held him tightly and began to laugh.
“Be quiet or your father will wake up.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
She laughed again.
“What’s so damned funny?”
“Nothing, Michael. Nothing at all. I just love you very much.”
Douglas Cannon loved to sail but hated taking the boat out in the summer. The waters of Gardiners Bay were jammed with big sloops, Sunfish, speedboats, and, worst of all, Jet Skis, which Cannon regarded as a sign the apocalypse was at hand. He had tried to have them barred from the waters around the island but failed, even after a ten-year-old girl was struck and killed off Upper Beach. Michael had hoped to spend a relaxing afternoon by the fire with a stack of newspapers, a book, and a good cabernet from Cannon’s vast cellar. But at noon the rain ended and a weak sun shone through broken clouds. Cannon appeared, dressed in a heavy rag-wool sweater and oilskin coat.
“Let’s go, Michael.”
“Douglas, you’ve got to be kidding. It’s forty degrees outside.”
“Perfect. Come on, you need some exercise.”
Michael looked to Elizabeth for help. She was stretched out on the couch, working over a stack of briefs.
“Go with him, Michael. I don’t want him out there alone.”
“Elizabeth!”
“Oh, don’t be such a whiner. Besides, Dad’s right. You’re getting a little soft. Come on, I’ll see you boys off.”
And so twenty minutes later Michael found himself aboard Cannon’s thirty-two-foot sloop
Athena,
bundled in a fleece pullover and woolen coat, pulling on a frozen jib line like some fabled Gloucester fisherman. Cannon barked orders from the wheel while Michael scrambled over the slick foredeck, readying the sails and securing lines in the twenty-mile-per-hour wind. He stubbed his toe on a cleat and nearly fell. He wondered how long he would survive in the frigid waters if he went overboard. He wondered whether the seventy-year-old Cannon could react quickly enough to save his life.
Athena,
bundled in a fleece pullover and woolen coat, pulling on a frozen jib line like some fabled Gloucester fisherman. Cannon barked orders from the wheel while Michael scrambled over the slick foredeck, readying the sails and securing lines in the twenty-mile-per-hour wind. He stubbed his toe on a cleat and nearly fell. He wondered how long he would survive in the frigid waters if he went overboard. He wondered whether the seventy-year-old Cannon could react quickly enough to save his life.
He took one last look back at the house as wind filled
Athena
’s sails and the hull rose from the water and heeled gently to starboard. On the lawn he could see Elizabeth with her bow and arrow, standing 150 feet from the target, drilling one bull’s-eye after another.
Athena
’s sails and the hull rose from the water and heeled gently to starboard. On the lawn he could see Elizabeth with her bow and arrow, standing 150 feet from the target, drilling one bull’s-eye after another.
Cannon set the
Athena
on a broad reach across the bay. The boat heeled hard over to stern, flying across the surface of the gray-green water toward Gardiners Island. Michael sat on the windward side of the boat, hoping the sun would warm him. He struggled to light a cigarette, succeeding after two minutes of contorting his body against the wind.
Athena
on a broad reach across the bay. The boat heeled hard over to stern, flying across the surface of the gray-green water toward Gardiners Island. Michael sat on the windward side of the boat, hoping the sun would warm him. He struggled to light a cigarette, succeeding after two minutes of contorting his body against the wind.
“Jesus Christ, Douglas, at least put her on a beam reach so we won’t feel the wind so much.”
“I like it when she heels!” he said, shouting over the wind.
Michael looked over the boat and saw water breaking over the bow gunwales.
“Don’t you think we should
heel
just a little less?”
heel
just a little less?”
“No, this is perfect. She’s running at top efficiency right now.”
“True, but if the wind gusts, we’re going to turn turtle and end up in the drink.”
“This boat is incapable of capsizing.”
“That’s what they said about the
Titanic.
”
Titanic.
”
“But in this case it’s true.”
“So how does that explain your little disaster at sea last year?”
The
Athena
had capsized in a sudden squall off Montauk Light the previous October. Cannon was rescued by the Coast Guard, and it cost him ten thousand dollars to salvage the boat. After that Elizabeth begged him never to sail alone.
Athena
had capsized in a sudden squall off Montauk Light the previous October. Cannon was rescued by the Coast Guard, and it cost him ten thousand dollars to salvage the boat. After that Elizabeth begged him never to sail alone.
“Defective marine forecast,” Cannon said. “I called the head of the National Weather Service and gave him a piece of my mind.”
Michael blew into his frozen hands. “Christ, the wind chill must be close to zero.”
“Five degrees, actually. I checked.”
“You’re insane. If the voters knew you had a death wish, they would have never sent you to the Senate.”
“Quit your bellyaching, Michael. There’s a thermos of coffee below. Be useful and pour us both a mug.”
Michael struggled down the companionway. The senator had been on virtually every ship in the navy, and the galley contained a collection of heavy sea mugs emblazoned with the insignia of several different vessels. Michael selected two from the
West Virginia,
a nuclear submarine, and filled them with steaming coffee.
West Virginia,
a nuclear submarine, and filled them with steaming coffee.
When Michael came back up top, Cannon was smoking one of his cigarettes. “Don’t tell Elizabeth,” he said, accepting the coffee. “If she knew I sneaked a cigarette every now and again, she’d tell every shop on the island not to sell to me.”
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