Dark Ambition (51 page)

She gestured toward the framed picture on a corner of his desk, showing Dr. Herbert and his wife, four children, and six grandchildren. "If you want to see them ever again, you've got to do something for me, which is quite easy. If not, you'll end up like Agnes."

"W-what is it?" he stammered.

"I assume you've got a car parked in the garage under the building."

"Absolutely," he said. He reached into his pocket, extracted a Lexus key ring, and tossed it to her. "It's a black Lexus sedan on level L-two in space twenty-eight. It's all yours."

She gave him a sinister smile. "It's not that easy. We're going together. You're driving. I'll be on the backseat covered by a blanket, which you're going to supply. When we're in the car, I'll tell you where to go. Just remember, I'll have the gun in my hand at all times. We may come across a police roadblock. If I hear anything from you that sounds the least bit suspicious, I'll blow your head off. Then I'll blast my way out of the car. Is that clear?"

He nodded rigidly.

"Now get a blanket and the Percocet. Let's get moving."

A sly look came into his eyes. "I could give you something a bit stronger for pain."

She scowled. "What do you take me for? You think I'm going to let you knock me out?"

"I didn't mean that. I—"

"Just get the stuff and let's go. Don't make me rethink my decision to let you live."

 

 

 

Chapter 32

 

Rather than have four people descend on Fulton, the decision was that Ben and Traynor would go inside while Jennifer and Campbell waited in the car.

Ben's fingers were moist with perspiration when he rang the bell.

Theo opened the door, wearing a white apron that said super mom in red letters on top and super wife in blue letters on the bottom. "Ben, what a nice surprise," she said, smiling warmly.

"I called Ed's office and heard he came home because one of the kids is sick. I'm sorry."

"Kirstin was throwing up and has a high temperature. It's that time of year."

Ben introduced Bill Traynor.

"I'll get Eddie," Theo said.

.Startled to see them, Fulton led them into his first-floor study and kicked the door shut. He glowered at Ben. "I'm still pissed at you for getting me tossed off the Winthrop case. You made me look incompetent before Mr. Slater and the attorney general. It might kill my career. So if you're here to apologize, you can stuff it."

"That's not why we came."

Fulton's frown lifted. "A new development in the case?"

"Yeah, we found out who hired Winthrop's shooter."

"Hey, that's great. Who?"

His interest seemed genuine. Everybody in this case was an actor, Ben thought. "What do you know about a man named Chip Donovan, head of special ops at the CIA?"

Fulton shrugged. "I may have heard the name. Never met the man."

"C'mon, Ed," Ben said, going easy. "There's no reason for you to take the rap for Jim Slater."

His eyes bulging, Fulton looked at Traynor. "What the hell's he talking about?"

The FBI agent nodded to Ben, who said, "Donovan fingered you as the one who hired the blond shooter."

"Me?" Fulton sounded astonished. "He fingered me? Is he crazy? What kind of bullshit is this?"

"He gave us all the details," Ben said. "How Slater sent you to see Donovan. How Donovan gave you the blonde's telephone number."

"It's all a crock," Fulton shouted. "A total crock."

Ben looked at him sympathetically. "You don't have to take the rap for Slater. I can cut a good deal for you."

"You don't get it, do you? There's no deal to cut. Donovan's screwing you over, and you can't see it."

"I know Jim Slater's responsible. Just confirm it," Ben pleaded with Fulton. "I'll make sure Slater takes the rap. You shouldn't have to walk the plank for his crime. Come on. Talk to me."

Fulton leaned in close to his face. "Are you stupid or deaf, or both?"

"If you go down alone, you're looking at murder one."

"What evidence do you have other than what some spook told you?"

"Nothing yet. We wanted to give you a chance to cooperate."

"You think Hawthorne will let you take that to a grand jury?" Fulton asked in disbelief.

"I'm betting he will. Winthrop was the President's best friend."

"The jury would see in a minute that I'd been framed. The next convenient scapegoat when your case against the gardener didn't stick."

Ben held his hands wide. With a voice full of sympathy, he said, "Listen, Ed, I can cut a deal with you. The case doesn't have to go to any jury. Just tell me why you did it and who else was involved with you."

"You really don't get it, do you?" he said, raising his voice. "Someone's trying to frame me, and you two numbnuts fucking don't get it."

Ben was starting to lose his temper as well. "Instead of shouting at us, why don't you tell us who's trying to frame you?"

"The Chinese government, you idiots. They were clever enough to arrange the video setup in London. They pulled this off the same way. They hired Gwen. They worked with Alexandra Hart. With the kind of money they have to play with, they easily could have pulled this off."

Ben shook his head. "I questioned the Chinese ambassador myself. They didn't do it."

"He conned you, Ben. He was eating you for lunch, and you couldn't even tell what was happening."

"I'm trying to help you," Ben said testily.

"Get the hell out of here. Both of you."

* * *

Back in the car, Ben and Traynor reported to the others.

"You were right," Ben said, looking at Jennifer. "Confronting Ed this soon did us no good at all. He won't bend until we can show that we have a strong case against him."

"If he wants evidence," Campbell said firmly, "we'll give him evidence."

Everyone in the car looked at the detective.

"Let's go back to your house, Ben. I assume you've got a fax machine." Ben nodded. "We'll get some phone records. I'll bet anything Ed Fulton made calls from one of his phones to Gwen. We can nail him that way."

"You can't be serious," Ben said.

"Trust me. The guy's no pro. He was in over his head. I know how people like this operate the first time they commit a serious crime."

Campbell turned to Traynor. "When we hit the Safeway, you take your car downtown to the U.S. Courthouse. I'll call you if I get a hit. Then you can get a warrant for this asshole's arrest."

* * *

Ann and Amy were playing a board game when Ben arrived with Jennifer and Campbell. After Ben hugged his daughter, Jennifer scooped her up in her arms and said, "C'mon, big girl. We're going upstairs to read a story."

"I pick out the book," Amy said, delighted with this new baby-sitter. "I pick it out."

While Campbell went to work with the phone company, Ben brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Ann found him in the kitchen. "The AG called. He wants to know what's happening."

"Uh-huh." Ben had no intention of returning the call until Fulton had implicated Slater and they were both behind bars. He didn't want to risk having his investigation go south one more time.

Twenty minutes later, Ben tucked Amy into bed and returned for "one more hug." As he came down the stairs, he heard the fax machine running. He saw Jennifer studying what looked like telephone records. "Son of a gun," she murmured.

Ben ran the rest of the way downstairs, joined by Campbell.

"Well?" Ben asked impatiently.

"Phone company records show that two calls were made from Ed Fulton's house to Gwen's cell phone and... Wait a minute...." She scanned another document. "There was also one call from his cell phone."

"Why didn't he make the calls from his extension in the Executive Office Building?" Ben exclaimed. "He could have argued that there was an unauthorized use of his phone. Now we've got him dead in the water."

Campbell responded, "Fulton was playing in a game he didn't understand. He was probably worried someone would overhear him. I'll call Bill Traynor and have him get the arrest warrant."

After Campbell made the call, Ben said, "Call back the phone company. Maybe they can use Gwen's cell phone number to get her address. If she's going home, let's have a reception party waiting for her."

"Great idea," Campbell said, sounding hopeful.

Minutes later, those hopes were dashed. "The address for bills for the cell phone was in the name of 'G. Gwen' at a P.O. box in midtown Manhattan."

"So we've got no way of finding her," Ben said.

* * *

It was slow going in the Lexus. Traffic was a nightmare. At the entrances to the interstates and major exits from Washington, the police had erected roadblocks. Under a cloud-laden sky, with only a sliver of a moon, it was pitch-dark outside. The police were shoving flashlights into car windows, looking for a blonde heavily bandaged on her face.

In the garage of Dr. Herbert's building, before they left, Gwen had checked a road map in the trunk and given him a route that kept them off the beltway and other main thoroughfares. The Lexus stayed on local city streets and county roads as they made their way north and west from Washington. While the doctor had hunted the map, she saw that the Lexus had a special feature she could use. Once the center armrest in the back was removed, a lid could be lifted, permitting objects like skis to be passed from the back seat to the trunk. This meant that Gwen didn't have to ride in the backseat under a blanket. She rode in the trunk, keeping the lid open. That way she could watch Dr. Herbert—and shoot him if he did anything suspicious. Meantime, she kept the trunk unhinged, but tied to the frame with a loosely knitted piece of rope, for a hasty exit.

For the first hour and a half the back road route worked. They didn't encounter a single roadblock. Once they were deep into Montgomery County, Gwen decided it would be safe to enter Route 270 at Montrose Road.

She guessed wrong. "Roadblock ahead," Dr. Herbert soon said, sounding calm. He was now in his role as a surgeon. His own life was at stake. He wanted this operation to succeed.

"You let me know when a cop approaches your car, and I'll lower the lid," Gwen said.

"Got it," he replied in his curt operating room voice.

A minute later, he said, "Now."

She lowered the lid all but a crack, not trusting the doctor. Through that crack she saw a light shine through the window. She heard a policeman say, "Anybody else in the car?"

Gwen held her breath.

"No, sir. Just me," Dr. Herbert replied in an even voice.

The policeman shined the light in the back and didn't see a thing. "Okay. Proceed."

"Thank you, Officer."

She gave a sigh of relief.

"West of Frederick," she told Dr. Herbert, "take the road for Charles Town, West Virginia, just after the Hagerstown turn off."

As they crossed the Potomac River, she was beginning to feel safe. She doubted if they'd encounter any other roadblocks.

She was right. It was clear sailing to a remote area in West Virginia, where the CIA maintained a safe house high on a bluff overlooking the Shenandoah River. It had been used to stash and interrogate defecting Russians in the Cold War days. With those days over, the house was rarely used. Gwen knew about it because she and Chip had spent a long sex-filled weekend there about a year ago.

As they got nearer, she ordered Dr. Herbert to stop the car so she could climb into the front to give him directions for the several turns over the narrow, winding dirt roads.

"When do you release me?" he asked nervously.

She pointed with her gun at the house on the top of the hill. "That's where we're going. I'll call friends to pick me up. Once they come, you can split."

"Okay," he said wanting to believe her, but not convinced.

"If you tell anyone, I'll come and kill you and your whole family," she said.

"You don't have to worry. I won't."

He eased the Lexus to a stop next to the house, a large wooden A-frame with a deck that overlooked the river.

As he held his breath, she said, "Get out of the car."

All he wanted was to get free of her as soon as possible. "I'd rather just wait in the car."

"Get out! Or I'll kill you!"

As she opened the car door, she kept her gun trained on him. When he was clear of the car, she pointed with the gun toward the house. Then, without saying a word, she fired a shot into the back of his head, sending his brains and tissue splattering onto the unmowed grass.

After taking more Percocet to alleviate the pain, she buried him in a shallow grave using a shovel in the house. With a bucket she cleaned the grass of his blood and tissue. It wasn't perfect, but then, who would come to look?

Inside the house, she went to a second-floor closet where Chip had shown her a secure phone that couldn't be traced, and which scrambled the receiving number. Before calling Paul in Westport, she considered her options. Paul would do whatever she wanted without asking questions. Driving Dr. Herbert's car to a local airport was too dangerous. Not only would she be seen, but police would no doubt be looking for the doctor's car once the building cleaning crews found his receptionist's dead body.