Dark Ambition (32 page)

At the end, Ben said, "Okay, now you can tell me I'm the world's biggest fool."

"You're the world's biggest fool. Do you feel better?"

Ben gave a short, nervous laugh. "What do I do now?"

Campbell shifted in his chair, sitting up straight. "You've got a number of choices."

"Such as?"

"You could do what she wants. Accept Clyde Gillis's confession, let him change his plea, and try to persuade the judge to accept it."

That was the last thing Ben was going to do. "I may be a fool, but I'm not a coward. Her attack convinced me that your scenario from this afternoon is right. Gillis didn't kill Winthrop. Somebody else did, and somebody powerful in this town wants Gillis to take the rap. I won't be part of that. How can you even suggest that? You're a cop, for God's sake."

Campbell held his hands up. "I wasn't suggesting it. I was only laying out your options."

"Well, I don't like that one. Give me another one."

"You could withdraw from the case and hope that satisfies her."

"Same answer as the first one. Keep talking."

"Go to Bill Traynor and the FBI, tell them everything that happened, and let them take it from here. It's their case."

Ben had considered that possibility on the way home. "But suppose FBI Director Murtaugh's a part of the cover-up. If I do that, I'll be signing my daughter's death warrant, and mine as well."

"That's possible."

Ben picked up Campbell's untouched glass of brandy and took a long sip. "You got any good choices?"

"Life doesn't always allow for good choices." Campbell wrinkled his brow, thinking. "I could provide police protection for you and Amy. Then you and I could quietly play detective, trying to find out who hired the blonde to kill Winthrop and attack you. Meantime, we don't say a word to the Feds."

"How the hell do we solve the mystery ourselves?"

"You won't like my answer."

"Try me. Right now I'm desperate."

Campbell took a deep breath. "The first thing you've got to do is bury the hatchet with Jennifer Moore. Start pooling all of your information with her. I'm convinced from talking to her earlier today, when I told her about the blond hair, that she knows something about Winthrop's death from her friend Ann that she hasn't shared with either of us."

Ben grimaced. "She would never work with me. We have too much history."

"I know all about your history. Why not ask her? Give it a try. You're not a couple of teenagers. You're both professionals, and you've got a common problem."

Ben knew that his pride was stopping him. After what she had done, breaking off their engagement unjustifiably, the last thing he wanted to do was come pleading to her for help. "There must be another way," he said.

"If there is, I sure don't see it."

Ben decided to put that idea aside for the moment. "How good a job could you do protecting Amy and me?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ben realized how stupid the question was. He knew the answer before Campbell said it.

"There are no guarantees. Our police department's tight on money. Unlike the Feds, we don't have unlimited resources. On the other hand, the Gillis case is important to us. I happen to love this city. I hate seeing its image take a needless pasting. Besides, I'd like to repay my own debt to Bill Traynor and Fulton. I'm senior enough. I can get the people I need to do the job."

"Will they be able to stay in the background? I don't want to frighten Amy. The kid's already seeing a shrink once a week."

"I'll use plainclothes people as much as I can. I'll stay close to it myself." He looked Ben squarely in the eye. "But even with all of that, there's a risk. I don't want to mislead you. We're going up against some powerful people, and we don't even know who they are."

"You think we have any chance of succeeding?"

Campbell had no interest in that sort of question. "We can give it our best shot. That's all we can do. I also learned something that may be worthwhile this evening—while you were trying to get laid."

"Yeah, what?"

"Having my people canvass Clyde Gillis's neighborhood turned up nothing, but I talked to the guards at the jail."

"And?"

"Gillis had only one visitor this afternoon after the arraignment. His wife, Lucinda."

"I knew that," Ben said abruptly.

Campbell gave him a small smile. "But I'll bet you didn't know that when she was with her husband, she handed him a pen and paper. He wrote out something and handed it to her."

Ben pounded his fist on the table. Now they were getting somewhere. "So they got to her, and she convinced him to confess," Ben said, thinking aloud.

Campbell nodded, though he was puzzled. "It sure seems like that to me. I'm going to drop in on Lucinda Gillis for a cup of coffee in the morning and shake that tree."

Ben didn't reply. He was trying to decide what to do. In the last couple of hours, the stakes had escalated enormously. While Ben agonized over his decision, Campbell pulled a package of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped the pack on the arm of the chair. Finally, he broke the silence. "You've run out of time, white boy," he said, smiling at Ben. "What'll it be?"

"We're getting to the bottom of this. I'll call Jennifer right now."

Ben reached for the phone and dialed her home. He got the answering machine. "Jennifer, it's Ben. Please give me a call. It's important that we talk as soon as possible."

He put down the phone.

"She's probably asleep," Campbell said, "and she turned off her phone. You'll hear from her in the morning."

"Either that or she's screening her calls, and she doesn't want to talk to me," he said glumly.

Campbell laughed. "Jesus, you've still got a thing for this woman."

"Oh, go fuck yourself. Stick to being a detective and stop trying to play psychologist."

Suddenly, Campbell leaned across the table and put his two huge basketball player's hands on top of Ben's. His eyes narrowed and he gave Ben a long, hard stare. "I'm your friend. You sure you want to do this?"

Ben wasn't going to flinch. "You didn't give me any better choice."

"You're just a lawyer. You're not a cop. You have a young kid to worry about. This is big. Why not just get out of the way and let it happen without you?"

"After tonight, I'm not sure that's possible. Our blonde—Nesbitt, or whoever she is—may still go after Amy if I don't find out who's pulling her strings first." Ben didn't add that his father's experience was influencing his thinking. His father hadn't let anybody push him around. He had been willing to take risks. "Besides," Ben added, "we're officers of the law. This Winthrop affair's starting to sound like Watergate. I don't want to let it happen."

"That's great in theory, Ben, but it may crush you and me like a couple of paper cups on the beltway."

"I'm willing to take that chance."

Finally satisfied, Campbell leaned back. "All right. Let's get started. I'll get one of the artists we use to come over and make a drawing of the blonde."

"Now?" Ben said, surprised. "It's late."

Campbell grinned. "You'll never sleep tonight anyhow."

* * *

Magical
was again the word that popped into Jennifer's mind, only this time to describe the whole evening as Ambassador and Madame DuMont pulled away in a car from the Bistro Francais in Georgetown and Gloria Clurman left on foot for the Four Seasons, where she was staying.

It had not only been the best performance of
Luisa Miller
Jennifer had ever seen, but during intermission, in the private VIP lounge on the mezzanine level, she had met all these important people who kept coming up to Gloria and Jim. The two of them were like powerful magnets that attracted everyone in the room. Then at dinner, Henri DuMont was tremendously funny, a marvelous raconteur who loved poking fun at the quirks of people from various European countries. Jim egged Gloria on to regale them with stories of the funniest things that she had seen backstage and on movie sets. As she obliged, they roared with laughter. The wine flowed freely. First Dom Perignon with
moules marniere,
and then with the steak and
frites
a fabulous Bordeaux Jim ordered that Jennifer had never heard of before, except she heard the word Rothschild in the name. They all had too much to eat and drink, but she loved every bite, and especially the chocolate soufflé at the end accompanied by a sauterne.

Occasionally, during dinner, Jennifer felt a little guilty for taking time from her preparation of the Gillis case. She rationalized that she had worked so much the last couple of days that she needed some time off. Besides, she had done everything she could for now. The next move was Ben's with the confession. Thinking of him also caused a nervous twinge, but she shook it off.

She was beginning to think about getting home when the driver of Slater's black Lincoln Town Car raced behind the car and held open the back door for the two of them. As the car pulled away, Jennifer closed her eyes and snuggled up against Slater, who draped his arm around her. "I have a modest proposal," he said.

"What's that?" she replied, her eyes still closed.

"Ever seen a polo match?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Good, because Saturday morning I have a match in Rancho Santa Fe. Fly out with me Friday evening. We'll come back Sunday. It'll give us a chance to get to know each other better." His arm tightened a little more around her. "Also, I want to explore with you the possibility of your coming back into the government at a high level. Maybe I'll create a new position in the White House to deal with women's issues. Health, sexual harassment, and so forth. You're smart and talented. I want the administration to take advantage of that."

His words jolted her. With her eyes opening wide, she pulled away from him. "What about Mrs. Slater? Where will she be?"

He looked nonplussed. "Actually, she'll probably be in Argentina buying horses. What difference does that make?"

Jennifer gave a short, caustic laugh. "Come on, Jim. What is this, the Washington version of the casting couch?"

He smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye. "You know what your trouble is?"

"I don't like any question that begins like that."

"You figure that every man is interested in only one thing." He delivered the words in a smooth, soft voice, suggesting amusement rather than irritation.

As a lawyer, she always enjoyed verbal fencing. Trying to match his tone, she said, "Well, aren't they? Men are all alike. You want one thing. You'll get it any way you can."

In the dim light of the car, she saw that he looked genuinely offended. "I'll bet you have plenty of conquests," she added.

"Actually, I don't, but I don't expect you to believe that. The truth is that I find you exciting and attractive. Not some conquest. But if that's what you think this is all about, an excuse to get into your pants, then you can stay at Rancho Valencia, a gem of a resort close to my place." He laughed. "You can even wear a chastity belt all weekend if that'll make you feel better."

She hadn't meant to come off sounding like such a shrew. To show that she liked him, and was sorry for what she had said, she punched him playfully in the ribs. "But who gets to hold the key?"

"What key?"

"The key to the chastity belt."

He laughed. "I do, of course."

"That's what I thought." She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. "It's a nice invitation, Jim, but I'm afraid I have to work this weekend."

The kiss had made him momentarily hopeful. Her words quickly shattered that. He regrouped, concealing his disappointment. "Ah, well, whatever is worth having is worth waiting for. I assume it's the Gillis case that's keeping you here."

She pulled back, eyeing him sharply. "How did you know that?"

Slater realized he'd better be careful. She couldn't know that Ed Fulton was on his staff, or she'd be sure that his only interest in her was to sabotage Gillis's defense. He'd have to remind Fulton to keep a low profile. Stay in the back of the courtroom. Identify himself as a special assistant to Murtaugh.

Slater pretended total innocence. "You were all over the television news today, after this morning's arraignment. I wondered why you didn't plead him."

Her face had shut down. "I don't think we should talk about it."

Slater said softly, "You mean, because I'm the enemy?"

"Not the enemy. But you happen to work for the man who's the boss of the prosecutors I'm going up against."

"The connection isn't that close," he said mildly. "Although I did meet Ben Hartwell. He's no match for you."

"We really shouldn't talk about it." Her voice was firm, and he backed off.

The car turned onto her street. Earlier, she had wondered what would happen when they got to her house tonight. Despite her hostility about the case, she liked Jim Slater, and she wanted him—wanted him in her bed. Wanted to know if he was as good at sex as he was at everything else. The wine had lowered her usual inhibitions to nearly zero. Why not? she finally decided. But he'd have to make the first move tonight. If he was still in the mood after her challenging him.

At her front door, she inserted the key in the lock, and she waited. He put his arms around her, pulled her close, and kissed her, a long kiss. She felt him pressing against her. She knew that he was aroused. Then he released her.

"Thanks for a great evening," he said. And he walked down the cement steps to his car. Just like that. He had his driver wait until she was inside the house before pulling away.

As she deactivated the house security system, she was pissed at herself for being so defensive in the car. Based on how he did everything else, he would probably be a superb lover. She had no one but herself to blame for the fact that she would be climbing into her bed alone.

As his car sped down Connecticut Avenue, Slater leaned back in the seat and smiled. Tonight he could have had her; he knew that. But she'd have to realize from the start that he'd be calling the shots.

* * *

The Shangri-La lobby was air-conditioned to a cool seventy degrees, but Chen was perspiring as he carried the brown suitcase from the elevator to the front entrance. Over his shoulder he had a black duffel bag with clothes for a two-day trip. He knew that the security police stationed guards in the large hotels to watch the foreign devils. With the midday bustle in the hotel, and being Chinese, he hoped they wouldn't pay much attention to him.