The Washington Lawyer (31 page)

“Look. I know my sister was no innocent.”

“They'll dig out almost every man she slept with. If any others were in Congress, they'll particularly focus on them and name them. They'll trash her and tarnish her reputation. And the story will go on and on.”

Waving his hands for emphasis, he continued. “Television crews will camp out on your parents' lawn in Oxford, Ohio. I assume they're still alive.”

She nodded.

He continued. “Every time your mother or father comes out, they'll shove microphones in their face. You want to bring this down on them, too?”

She was biting her lip. She hadn't considered this might happen. Her poor dad was in bad enough shape without any of this. She closed her eyes and buried her head in her hands.

After a long minute, she looked up and said, “I just don't know. I owe it to my sister to expose what happened. And what about the man who arranged to move her body? It would be terrible if he got off scot-free.”

“I agree, but what difference does it make? You can't bring your sister back. But your parents are still alive. What about the shame they'll feel? And you must have loved your sister. Look what you'll do to people's memory of her and how people will think of her for years to come.”

“I don't know,” she repeated.

“Tell you what, Allison. I think you should take twenty-four hours and think it over. The time won't matter. I always find that a decision like this needs thought.”

He picked up a card from his desk. “This has my office, home, and cell numbers. Feel free to call me anytime.”

“Thanks. I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me.”

“Again, I am sorry for this tragedy. Now if you don't mind, I'd like you to step outside for a few minutes. I have to talk to Paul about one of our cases.”

“No. Of course not. Paul, I'll meet you out on the street, on Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the building. I need some air.”

* * *

Waiting for Allison to leave, Martin studied Paul. How in the world am I going to do this, he thought. Obviously Allison's emotional about her sister, and Paul's emotional about her. Still, I have to persuade him to get her to back off. If this went to the
Washington Post
, they'd pursue the story. His involvement would come out.

“Paul, let's look at this like a couple of lawyers. According to Allison, what are the facts? Her sister went off to Anguilla with Senator Jasper, a married man, for a weekend tryst as two consensual adults. Do I have that right?”

Paul nodded. “And her sister drowned.”

“Right. No evidence of foul play?”

“Correct. But the body was moved.”

“So what? It didn't disappear. And it wasn't mutilated. I assume it was shipped back home for a proper burial.”

“Yeah. I was there.”

“So now Allison wants to punish Jasper by wrecking his life.”

“Something like that.”

“But here's my problem. Beyond everything I told her about hurting herself, if she succeeds, she'll be hurting others too.”

“So what if Jasper suffers? He …”

“Not just him. His wife and kids. They'll be hurt. And other people. When these things blow up in the press, lots of people get hurt. That's what I was telling her. Allison's parents and Allison will pay a heavy price.”

“Jasper shouldn't have gone to Anguilla,” Paul said stubbornly.

“No, of course not. And Vanessa shouldn't have gone either. But you know Washington. A psychiatrist ran a study a couple of years ago showing that it's no coincidence many of the people who make it big here have the type of personality leading them to extramarital affairs. We're not psychiatrists, but you and I have lived here long enough to know that's what happens. And had Vanessa not died, they'd have both flown home, sated from sex and happy, and making plans to do it again.”

“So what are you telling me?”

“I don't see Allison accomplishing anything positive. She can't bring her sister back. All she can do is cause a lot of pain to other people, particularly her parents, and she'll tarnish her sister's image.”

He couldn't tell if he was getting through to Paul.

“I don't know, Andrew. You make some good points.”

“Then try to persuade Allison not to go to the press for her own sake. And for the sake of everybody else involved.”

“I'll think about it and talk to her, Andrew.”

Martin was convinced he hadn't gotten anywhere with Paul, who was clearly aiding Allison. Without Paul's help, Allison would never have fingered Jasper.

This wasn't over yet. So what could he do about Paul? His best course was to get Paul out of town and isolate Allison. She didn't know her way around Washington like he did. On her own, she might not get the attention of the right people at the
Post
.

“Okay, enough about Allison, Paul. I want to talk to you about the FCC decency case. The CEO of Global Media was the most effective witness for our side at the hearing. Rather than rely on cold transcript, I want you to get on a plane this afternoon, fly to Los Angeles, and spend some time with him. I'll set it up. That'll make the brief come to life.”

“Can I wait a couple of days?” Paul asked.

“So you can help Allison? Is that it?”

Paul didn't respond.

“Now, you listen to me,” Martin told him in a stern voice. “You're up for partner in less than a year. You've worked damn hard for that prize for eight years. Do you really want to blow your chances by wasting your time on a dead girl when you should be going all out on one of the most important cases you've ever worked on? If I leave to be chief justice, this could be your case and your client—a huge source of billable hours.”

When Paul didn't respond, Martin continued, “I like you, Paul. I want you to be a partner in the firm whether I'm here or chief justice. But if you don't get your priorities straight, you'll never make it. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes sir. You can call the CEO. I'll fly out this afternoon.”

* * *

Allison was sitting on a bench on Pennsylvania Avenue letting the cool breeze whip through her hair. She found it refreshing and mind-clearing.

When she had been in Martin's office, listening to him talk, all of the disparate pieces of what had happened to Allison since she had received that call in Israel came together. Actually the process started in her meeting with Jasper.

The senator nearly blew a gasket when she mentioned the CD. So it did relate to him and his affair with Vanessa. Also the Chinese had been after this mysterious CD. Susan had said Vanessa expected Jasper to ask to marry her. And Vanessa's diaries all pointed to her desire, almost obsession, to marry someone powerful in Washington.

Allison knew her sister. Vanessa would be willing to use any tool at her disposal to get what she wanted. Even blackmail.

So what must have happened was that Vanessa threatened Jasper with disclosure of what was on the CD if he didn't marry her. But before he decided, or afterwards, she drowned. Perhaps, he killed her. Allison realized she had no evidence to support that supposition.

On the other hand, one thing was clear: if the CD existed, it contained potent information because the Chinese had done everything conceivable to get their hands on it. And Jasper was terrified about the CD.

Vanessa could have been bluffing, Allison thought. Perhaps there was no CD, but suppose it existed. Vanessa couldn't have taken it to Anguilla or Jasper would have it. So Vanessa had hidden it. But where? It was not found in her apartment or office, and was not in the bank vault.

Allison knew how her sister thought. She tried to put herself into Vanessa's mind. Where would she hide it?

Think, she told herself. Think.

In a moment, she had the answer. Vanessa always turned to Allison when she got into trouble or needed help. So it made sense that Vanessa would have mailed it to Allison in Providence, either to her apartment or her office at Brown. Being in Israel, Allison wouldn't have seen it.

That must be what Vanessa did.

Allison had to fly to Providence that afternoon. With the DC Police after her, she'd have to be careful. The disguise would help. For the airplane, she could use Vanessa's name and passport for ID.

No, that would be stupid. The airplane ticket agent might have seen Vanessa's picture and
Post
obit. Also, at airports, there were those pesky TSA security people. But this did not occur on Amtrak. The train was a much safer choice.

At Brown, she'd have to slip into her office at night when the building was deserted. She'd need to do the same when going to her apartment. She'd have to be very careful.

She wasn't sure whether she should tell Paul what she planned to do. She'd wait to hear what Martin told him and then decide.

A few minutes later, she saw him coming through the revolving door. As he approached the bench, he looked worried.

“What'd Martin say to you?” she asked.

“He told me to urge you not to go to the
Post
for your sake and your family's.”

“What do you think?”

“I don't know. He made some good points,”

“I agree. I'm tossing them around as I think about what to do. What about your case?”

“He wants me to fly to Los Angeles this afternoon to meet a witness. And I have to go.” Paul sounded dejected and resigned.

“I understand.”

“I'll only be there twenty-four hours. I'll take the red-eye back tomorrow.”

“Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.”

“I want you to stay in my house until I return.”

“But I don't look like Allison Boyd any longer.”

“You can't take a chance. Please, Allison. Don't leave the house.”

“Okay. I hear you.”

She had no intention of telling him she was going to Providence. All he would do was argue with her about it. And she had to do it.

* * *

Fifteen minutes after Paul left the office, Martin's phone rang. He saw from caller ID it was Arthur Larkin.

Martin didn't wait for his secretary to answer. He picked up himself. “Yes, Arthur.”

“I shouldn't be making this call, but you're my friend.”

“And?” Martin was holding his breath.

“Braddock has decided to nominate you. Announcement is in three days because of his schedule.”

Martin was so excited he wanted to scream.

Arthur continued. “Other than Francis, don't tell a soul. Not even your daughters.”

“I understand and thanks for the call.”

“One other thing.”

“What's what?”

Arthur laughed. “Stay out of trouble for the next three days.”

On the Rails and Providence

W
ith Allison sitting in the quiet car, no cell phones or talking, the Acela train pulled out of Union Station in Washington. She took out her iPhone and was pleased to see a message from Zahava.

“Great news!!! The last couple of days we discovered objects which might be from King Solomon's time. Everyone here is singing your praises for not giving up in the face of adversity. We know that you have serious personal matters to resolve, and we don't want to rush you, but we were wondering if you have any idea when you'll return. The editor of the London based
Archeology Magazine
would like to send a team down to do a piece on the dig. But, I won't schedule it until you're back. You're going to be quite famous when this article appears.”

The message excited Allison and buoyed her spirits. She replied. “What wonderful news. Thanks so much for sending it. I expect to be back within a week. As soon as I'm there, we can schedule the magazine visit.”

Allison put away her iPhone and looked out of the train window. The Maryland countryside was passing by. I'll finish this and get my life back, she thought.

In Philadelphia two Chinese men boarded the train. As they moved along the aisle toward Allison, her heart was pounding. She didn't recognize either of them, but the man with the scar on his face could have sent them to follow her. They would call and tell him she was en route to Providence. He'd be waiting there to kill her as he had threatened. And that was before she broke his nose.

Don't be paranoid, she chided herself.

They walked past her and sat down, two rows behind. They'll probably get off in New York, she told herself.

They didn't. When the train pulled out of New York's Penn Station, they were still there.

* * *

Arriving in Providence, Xiang decided to go to Allison's apartment first. He thought it more likely that Vanessa would have sent the CD there.

He parked two blocks from her apartment building, a dilapidated three-floor wooden frame building with peeling gray paint, and made his way along the sidewalk, careful to avoid patches of ice and snow. The directory listed Allison's address as second floor. That meant other people lived in apartments on the first and third.

Though it was only ten minutes to seven in the evening, all three units were dark. That made Xiang's job easier.

He didn't see any cars driving on the street or other pedestrians, but he didn't run. Anyone who suddenly came along would think he lived there.

It took him thirty seconds to unlock the front door which led into a hallway and staircase shared by all three apartments.

Inside the door, he saw the entrance to the ground floor unit on the right. He didn't hear any noise coming from inside. On the left were three mail boxes and mail was piled on the floor. He pried open Allison's mail box, pulled out all the mail, and gathered up the pieces on the floor which were addressed to Allison.

He climbed the uncarpeted wooden stairs softly, cursing under his breath because they creaked. On the second floor he glanced around quickly, but didn't see anyone. So he put down the mail and used his tool to open the door. Once inside, he looked around quickly for a security system. There wasn't one. He imagined that university professors didn't have much worth stealing.