The Washington Lawyer (22 page)

He watched the brute at the door help Kelly with her coat. Then put his arm around her as they left the restaurant.

Even though Kelly worked for the FBI, she might be willing to see him again. He could easily buy a brand-new cell phone in a shop on the street. If he paid cash for it, the embassy security people wouldn't have any way of finding out.

Sure it would be risky, but he had given enough to China. He was entitled to do something for himself.

Not now, he decided. The time isn't right. With all this Jasper business still unfolding and her at the FBI. But it would be over soon. Then he'd call her.

After dinner, Xiang went home to his empty apartment. He had to be up early to meet Jasper, but he couldn't sleep. All he could think about was Kelly.

I'll call her tomorrow
.

He thought about it a little more and changed his mind. No not until he was finished with Jasper and Allison.

* * *

Xiang checked his watch. It was ten after five in the morning and still dark. He stood in the bone-chilling cold under a clear sky and a full moon in Rock Creek Park waiting for Jasper to show. Where the hell was he? He'd never been late before. Xiang wondered once more what happened that prompted Jasper to ask for the meeting.

To keep warm, Xiang ran in place on the muddy path, even though his whole body ached, and he still had a headache as a result of his hard landing after he flew over Allison Boyd's body. He had been a fool letting her trip him up like that. When he finally had the CD, he'd get even with her. But first he had to find her.

Xiang saw the senator approaching, breathing heavily.

“Yesterday you told me you expected Allison to lead you to the CD. Didn't you?” Jasper sounded belligerent.

“That's right,” Xiang replied warily.

Jasper laughed. “Fat chance of that happening. I'll bet you lost track of her. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Xiang said sheepishly.

Sneering, Jasper said, “Would you like to know where she is?”

Xiang realized how much he hated Jasper.

“Of course.”

“She's on her way to Anguilla, trying to find out who was with Vanessa.”

Xiang was relieved to hear where Allison was. He had been terrified Liu would call him for a status report and he'd have to admit that he had no idea where Allison was. Now he had a dilemma. He could go to Anguilla or send someone there to follow Allison, hoping she'd lead them to the CD. He had a strong belief that this tenacious twin sister would sooner or later find the CD. He figured she understood Vanessa. She'd be able to find it for him.

Perhaps Vanessa had left the CD in Anguilla. Jasper had said he'd searched Vanessa's things after she drowned. But in his state he couldn't be depended on. By checking airplane manifests Xiang would learn when Allison was returning to Washington. If she had the CD, he'd snatch it from her when she was back here. No point going to Anguilla.

If it wasn't there, he was convinced it was in Vanessa's bank vault. He'd follow Allison to the vault and grab it once she returned. Either way, he'd get that CD.

Besides, Xiang doubted there were many Chinese people on Anguilla. He or his men would stand out. No, going there wasn't an option.

Even though all Xiang cared about was the CD, he still had to appear as if he wanted to help Jasper prevent Allison from finding out that the senator had been with her in Anguilla. “I could send people to Anguilla,” Xiang said. “To persuade her to come back to Washington before she uncovers your involvement.”

After the words were out of his mouth, Xiang held his breath. He had no intention of doing this. If Jasper asked him to, Xiang would lie and say he did and they lost her.

“No need to do that. Andrew Martin, whose house I used, has local contacts. He's already set it up. Hopefully it will work. If not, I'll have a problem. And that means you'll have a problem.”

Jasper made it sound like a threat. Xiang didn't like that.

Jasper took a breath and continued. “That's why I wanted you to know she went to Anguilla.”

“I appreciate the information. I'll be waiting for Allison when she comes back to Washington. Now let's talk about the Pentagon's five-year plan. When will you have that for me?”

“Are all you Chinese so persistent? Is that why you're getting ahead in the world?”

Xiang kept his anger in check. Jasper frequently made ethnic slurs. Just one more of his disgusting personal characteristics. “I'm doing my best for you to get the CD. I want to know when I'll get the five year plan.”

“Goddamn it, Xiang,” Jasper hissed in an angry voice. “I'm tired of you harping on the Pentagon's plan. You Chinese are never satisfied. I've given you plenty of good stuff, including data on a new generation of American missiles, the results of our defense planning with Japan, and the plans to increase our Marine contingency in Australia. And lots more.”

“For which we've paid you plenty.”

“Yeah, but money only goes so far. My neck's on the line. I could get caught. This plan is a very sensitive document. I'm no longer sure that I want to give it to you.”

Xiang had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Oh no. Please no. Xiang would be in deep trouble with Liu if he couldn't deliver that document. Jasper was a bully and obnoxious. Xiang decided his best course was to push back on Jasper.

“My neck's on the line, too. I'm doing everything I can to get that CD. If you're not prepared to get me the five-year plan, then all bets are off for the CD. I'll let Allison find it and hang you with it. You'll go to jail alone. Minister Liu and I will be in China. Nobody will be able to touch us there.” Xiang was looking right at Jasper. “I can play what you Americans call hardball, too.”

Jasper sighed. “Okay. Today's Friday. Monday morning I've scheduled a secret executive session for my committee. The secretary of defense promised to deliver a copy of the plan to my house Sunday evening. We'll meet here Monday morning.”

“Bring the document with you.”

“I will, but you'll have to deliver the CD to me then. That's our deal.”

“Don't worry. I will.”

“Good. Now I have to take off.”

When Jasper left, Xiang ran on the path while contemplating his next move. Now that he knew where Allison was, he'd go back to the embassy and call Liu with a status report. At least Jasper had been good for something.

As for Allison, eventually she would return to Washington, with or without the CD, he was convinced. And if she didn't locate the CD in Anguilla, she'd go to that bank vault. He simply had to know when she was returning.

Xiang stopped running and picked up a twig, which he snapped into several pieces.

Airline computers. That was the answer. At the embassy they had the technology to hack into those computers.

Sooner or later, she'd book a return flight. He'd keep checking the carriers flying out of Anguilla and into Washington until he obtained her flight itinerary. He'd be waiting for Allison at the Washington airport.

* * *

Xiang was in the embassy communications room on a secure phone. Liu answered on the first ring.

“It's Xiang, Minister Liu.”

“Yes,” was the curt reply.

“I want to give you a status report.”

“Do you have the five-year plan?”

“Jasper will have it Sunday evening. He'll give it to me Monday morning at five o'clock Washington time.”

“Are you confident of that?”

“Yes, sir. I am.”

“I detect hesitation in your voice.”

“I had a tough discussion with Jasper. He was resisting giving it to me. I turned him around by threatening to stop blocking Allison from getting the CD. He'll do it now.”

“You could threaten to kill his wife and children.”

Xiang couldn't believe Liu was raising such a dreadful possibility. How did Xiang end up in this situation?

“As I said, I now believe he will give it to me on Monday morning.”

“Well, you better be right. I can't emphasize how important the Pentagon's five-year plan is to us.”

Xiang was tempted to remind Liu how much valuable information Jasper had already given them, but he knew Liu would regard that as a sign of weakness that Xiang wouldn't be able to deliver the document. Liu didn't tolerate weakness.

“You will have it on Monday,” Xiang said.

“What about the CD?”

“Allison Boyd has gone to Anguilla to try and find out what happened to her sister. Also to search for the CD.”

“Are you following her there?”

Xiang took a deep breath. “I thought it made more sense to remain here, keep a close watch on the airplane manifests, and snatch her when she returned. If she has the CD, I'll grab it. If she goes to her sister's bank vault, I'll snatch her and the CD when she leaves the bank.”

“Why not go to Anguilla?”

“I'll stand out there. I'll never be able to control the situation. Also Jasper's friend, Andrew Martin, whose house he used, has good contacts in Anguilla. They're committed to making certain Allison doesn't get any information. I think that makes more sense.”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Liu said, “Are you too lazy to go to Anguilla? Or afraid of those Island people?”

“No sir. That's not it at all.”

“Well, you better get hold of that CD.” Liu was shouting now. “If it fell into the hands of the American media, that would do the People's Republic of China enormous damage. Are you too stupid to understand what I'm telling you?”

Xiang struggled mightily to keep his anger in check. This was all Liu's fault. There wouldn't be a CD if he hadn't been careless in Tokyo. Now the Minister was tearing into Xiang about it.

Xiang kept his cool. “As I told you Minster Liu, I believe it would be more productive for me to remain in Washington and move in on Allison as soon as she returns.”

“Okay, do it your way, but you better be right about this. If not you'll pay for it.”

* * *

Showtime, Martin thought. He had to go to the White House this morning for his interview with the president. What would Braddock be asking him? Martin felt nervous. Hell, he was never nervous—not for Supreme Court arguments or client presentations. So why now? But he knew why. The nomination for chief justice meant more to him than anything else in life.

Leaving the office, he stopped in the men's room to straighten his red silk tie with small yellow squares. His good luck tie—he'd worn it to the last six Supreme Court arguments. And he'd won them all. He chose a muted striped shirt, pale green with thin red and yellow strands. I'm like one of those baseball players, he thought, who keeps wearing the same thing when he's in the midst of a winning streak. No oral argument today, but I need all the help I can get.

The
Times
had published a retraction of the Guantanamo article. It appeared on page A7, which irked the hell out of Martin, but it was still there.

Half an hour later, waiting outside of the Oval Office, its door closed, Martin thought about the other times he'd been here. Always representing a client, once the French Government; once the Chinese; other times an American based industrial or financial firm, usually involving serious international or national repercussions. He felt odd today, representing himself.

A buzzer rang.

“You can go in, Mr. Martin,” a secretary said.

As he opened the door, it struck Martin how austere this room was, with its plain dignity befitting the power of its occupant. So different from the grandeur and ostentatiousness of the Elysee office of the French President.

Walking on the thick powder blue carpet toward the presidential seal at the center, Martin looked around. Most imposing was the dark wooden desk with thick legs that curled at the bottom which he knew had been used by several other presidents, including Franklin Roosevelt. Two black leather chairs were in front of it. Behind it, was a credenza flanked by an American flag with pictures of the president's family, two married sons and four grandchildren, just in front of the three floor-to-ceiling bulletproof windows facing the south lawn.

He'd read that all the furniture was by American craftsmen in North Carolina. Off to one side was an informal meeting area with an upholstered sofa, four chairs, a coffee table, and a couple of end tables with lamps.

Braddock was standing next to his desk examining a document with Arthur. Then the president glanced up and moved in Martin's direction.

Braddock looked, Martin thought, like the consummate politician. At sixty, he was tall, broad-chested, carrying a few extra pounds, with a warm smile exuding charisma and self-confidence. His hair, still thick, was gray and wavy. The president stuck out his hand, shaking Martin's in a powerful grip, while reaching over and clasping Martin's arm in what had become the Braddock trademark handshake.

“Arthur tells me that you're the best lawyer in America.”

“I'm happy Arthur feels that way, Mr. President.”

Braddock motioned to the conference area. “Let's sit down over there. We'll be more comfortable.”

Martin found himself relaxing. Not too much, he told himself. Have to keep that edge sharp.

The president was looking squarely at Martin. “Why do you want this job?”

Martin felt as if he'd been struck. But he was ready.

“To make a difference for the country. I'm a moderate on political and legal issues, and I worry that a narrow conservative majority has hijacked the court for their social issue agenda. As chief justice, I'd be determined to change this divisiveness. Do I think it will be easy, given the strong views of the members?” Martin paused. “No. Of course not. Will I succeed? Well, I am known for a fair bit of succeeding.”

“Have you ever been involved in politics? Run for elected office? Or actively supported any candidates?”