Fifty
By 5:00 P.M. I was in the car and on my way to the plantation house where the ball was to be held. My hair and makeup had turned out well, and when I slipped on the beautiful gown, I felt a bit like Cinderella. Shimmery stockings, new shoes, and the silver mask made my look complete. Now as I drove, the mask was on the seat beside me, and I could only hope that an hour and a half in the car wouldn’t wrinkle the gown too badly.
Traffic was heavy, but once I got through the city, I made good time. Following the signs to Grande Terre, I drove down several long, winding roads until I reached the main entrance.
There were already a number of cars there, and as I turned onto the long lane that led to the house, a man in a bright orange vest waved me toward the valet parking area. Instead, I waved him off and found a spot myself, parked the car, and checked my image in the mirror on my visor. As I was freshening my lipstick, I noticed several couples walking into the house. The women looked elegant in gowns even fancier than mine, and the men all wore tuxedoes. On their faces were Mardi Gras masks, which reminded me to put on my own.
The plantation grounds were beautiful, full of massive, graceful oak trees dripping in moss, the walkways lined with azaleas. I walked up the front steps and into the home, showing my invitation to a man at the door. He checked my name off of a list and then welcomed me inside.
To the lilting sounds of a string quartet, I strolled through the first few rooms of the home. They had been restored to the period, with sturdy antique furniture and some impressive paintings on the walls. Allowing myself to flow with the crowd, I came to the ballroom, which was attached to the house via a long, grand hallway. Emerging from the other end, I found myself in a stunning space lined with tall windows and high ceilings that were as gilded as those in a palace.
Someone handed me a copy of the auction list, and I found an empty seat at a table in a corner. Others drifted my way and sat at the same table, some making polite conversation. I found it a little awkward to talk from behind a mask, but I didn’t take it off since everyone else was still wearing theirs.
Out of curiosity I read the auction list, astounded again by some of the offerings. Some incredibly valuable items had been added since the other day, including an original Degas and a trip for two to Tahiti. There were also a number of celebrity items, from a personal training session with a famous fitness guru to a five-song private concert by Harry Connick Jr. Everyone at my table talked about the list, what they planned to bid on, and what they thought would sell high. My very favorite listing was an MDM 1.3-m McGraw Hill telescope, used previously in the Kitt Peak National Observatory in Tucson, Arizona. Before his death, Bryan had been an avid astronomy buff, and something like that would have thrilled him no end. I couldn’t imagine how much it might sell for.
Soon waiters began circulating with drinks and hors d’oeuvres. I sipped a ginger ale and watched the room slowly fill up with people. I saw Beth and Irene come in, and even from across the room the family mask that Beth wore simply glistened. I waved them over and they gladly joined me, greeting other people all along the way.
Finally, Veronica appeared at the front of the room, looking stunning in a vivid red gown, her lipstick a perfect match to her dress. She thanked everyone for coming, outlined the events of the evening, and then introduced the auctioneer. He took the microphone and warmed up the crowd with a rousing comedy routine. Then the auction began, and I saw that Veronica had been right: These people were determined to outdo each other.
The prices soon skyrocketed into the thousands, and by the time the telescope came up on the block, the bidding started at $5000. The final price was well over $10,000, sold to someone at the front of the room.
Once the auction was finished, the masks came off for the meal and the fabulous dinner began, five courses that I barely ate, as I was still full from my double lunch! As I picked at my food, I discreetly searched the crowd for Armand and Phillip and anyone else I might know. Beth seemed quiet, but Irene was particularly chatty, and the meal time flew by.
After dessert I excused myself and made my way outside for some fresh air, but everywhere I went were clusters of people smoking. I started to walk beyond the group of smokers to the formal gardens, but it was dark out there and I didn’t think that would be wise.
Back inside, I found that the food had all been cleared away and the band was just starting up. All of the guests had put their masks back on, and the room had the look of an eighteenth-century Viennese ball. Fortunately, Bryan had taught me some ballroom dancing early in our marriage, so I held my own when I was asked to dance several times by polite men with fancy masks and charming Southern accents. Though I didn’t mind dancing with them, one didn’t want to let me go when the song was over. He had just cornered me and launched into a long, involved tale about the history of his family’s Mardi Gras krewe when Armand surprised me by interrupting us.
“Oh, cher, where is that dance you promised me?”
He looked handsome in a tuxedo, his mask of the simple black “Lone Ranger” variety. True to his word, he was as adept at ballroom dancing as he had been at the Cajun Two-Step. He gripped me firmly, guiding me around on the floor as my beautiful dress swirled along behind me.
“I guess I should feel privileged to be in the presence of a television star,” I told him as we danced.
“A television star?”
“I saw you last night. You were very impressive.”
He grinned.
“You caught me on Donald Mason’s show?”
“Yes. You have a real screen presence, Armand. You should do as much TV as you can.”
“Oh, I try. I’ll do anything to spread the word.”
He pulled me closer and continued the dance. When the song was over, he brought me to his table so that I could say hello to his aunt. Though she wasn’t exactly “high society,” she didn’t look all that out of place in a simple gray floor-length dress, with black, elbow-length gloves and her hair in a home-done up-do. In front of her was a glass of champagne, and she was just giggly enough that it seemed as if it had already gone to her head. I chatted with them both for a minute or so and then seized the opportunity to break away when I spotted Phillip and Veronica.
“Callie!” Veronica said, giving me a big hug. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you all night.”
“I’m over on the side, in the back,” I said. “With Beth and Irene.”
“Well, what do you think of our little ball?”
“Your little ball is a big cash cow!” I replied, and we both laughed. “Very well done.”
“Did you bid on anything?” she asked.
“No, it was too rich for my blood. But it was fun to watch.”
We chatted for a while, and I slowly realized that while this evening was certainly pleasant enough, it wasn’t going to be of any value to my investigation. I had hoped to observe the members of the Cipher Five interacting with each other, but it was simply too crowded and too chaotic for that. After a few more dances with complete strangers, I considered going home. I wondered if there might be a security guard or a traffic director outside who would be willing to go with me to my car to check for snakes.
I was on my last dance when yet another man cut in. I started to beg off, but then the song changed and the moment passed. This would be my final dance, I decided, and then I would definitely call it a night.
The music moved into a familiar tune, and soon I realized that it was my song with Tom, the song we considered “ours.” My heart literally ached for him, and I wondered briefly if I should drive straight to the New Orleans airport and catch the next plane to D.C. I smiled to myself, picturing how absurd I would look getting on an airplane in a formal gown.
“Is something funny?” my dance partner asked. “You’re smiling.”
I started to reply, but then my breath caught in my throat.
The man wearing the mask in front of me, the man who was leading me so skillfully aroun
d the room in a dance, was Tom!
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Don’t let anyone else know, Callie. Let’s just dance our way to the exit.”
We did just that, and I don’t think I could have spoken at that moment even if I had wanted to. At the edge of the dance floor we turned and walked to the door, stepping outside past the smokers and toward a gazebo around the corner. The pathway was lighted, and as we went, a surreal sort of quiet came over us.
“You know,” he said softly, taking my hand in his, “I was sure you wouldn’t go home today. So I figured the only way to keep you safe was to come here and protect you myself.”
“For the rest of our lives,” I finally managed to say, “are you always going to keep showing up and surprising me?”
We reached the gazebo and stepped inside. Pulling off our masks, we moved into a long, fierce hug. Tom was here! He was with me! For the first time in days, I felt complete.
There was a bench along the interior wall, so we sat, side by side, hands clasped, fingers entwined. I had so much to tell him, but before I could even begin, he spoke.
“Callie, I don’t know what you’ve managed to find out about my involvement with Bryan’s death, but I can’t stand this anymore. I’m here to make a plea for our relationship, for us, regardless of whatever secrets still remain.”
“I don’t know if any secrets do remain,” I said. “Let me tell you what I’ve learned.”
There, to the gentle accompaniment of chirping crickets and music playing softly in the distance, I told him everything I had found out about that fateful day when Bryan was killed. One by one, I went down the list, revealing what I knew and how I felt about it. I said that as far as I was aware, the only mystery that still remained was the nature of the national crisis that had brought them to that vacation house in the first place.
“But I can live without knowing that,” I said. “Just tell me, Tom, is everything else all there was?”
“Yes, Callie, but isn’t that enough?”
“Oh, Tom, there is absolutely nothing there that I cannot forgive.”
“Callie, do you understand what you’re saying? I’m the one who got James out of prison. I’m the one who insisted he had to be there, even though he was a flight risk, even though the NSA was convinced he still had an accomplice on the outside. I took full responsibility for him, and then I’m the one who dropped that responsibility and left town. If not for me, it never would’ve happened.”
I reached up and touched his cheek, his jaw strong and handsome in the moonlight. His eyes were filled with guilt and pain.
“I forgive you, Tom. For everything. I love you.”
He let out a soft moan and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me so tightly against him that I could hardly breathe. In his muscles, I could feel four years’ worth of self-judgement simply melt away. There was no longer any need for regret. There was no longer any need for guilt.
“Just one soul hoping for ultimate absolution,” he said, his lips against my hair. “That’s what I’ve been ever since it happened.”
I nodded. Eli had told me the same thing earlier.
As we sat there together in the darkness, it clicked for me.
J.O.S.H.U.A.
The J.O.S.H.U.A. Foundation.
Just One Soul Hoping for Ultimate Absolution.
My heart nearly breaking for the sake of his past pain, I put my hands on either side of his face.
“J.O.S.H.U.A.,”I whispered, looking into his eyes. “I understand.”
I kissed him then, a sweet, long kiss that seemed to go on forever. It was a kiss of love.
It was my kiss of forgiveness.
Fifty-One
Though Tom didn’t really want to speak with anyone else or let them know he was there, I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Veronica, not to mention Beth and Irene. So while he waited just outside the door, I went into the ballroom and sought out all three of them and told them goodbye. My words met with mild protestations, but I said that I had had a long day and that I wanted to make the drive back to New Orleans before I got too sleepy.
I found Tom outside where I had left him, though now he was on his cell phone, and it sounded as though he was touching base with the NSA. As I waited for him to conclude the call, I peered back at the festivities inside. Looking through the window was like looking at a photograph, and I watched as Veronica walked to her table and sat. She pulled off her mask and then tucked her hand in Phillip’s elbow, and for a moment her pose reminded me of one of the photos in her album, the one with her at a European coffee shop, hanging onto the arm of a rock star.
I hadn’t remembered who the rock star was, but now as I looked at her, her eyes shining, her expression blank, my heart suddenly started pounding. As soon as Tom got off the phone, I grabbed his arm and told him we needed to get to my car.
“What’s the matter?”
“I have to check something.”
Together, we made our way through the main house and out the front door. I led him to my car and pulled out my laptop. I opened it right there, powered it up, and went to the folder where I had saved the downloads of the news reports about the original sale of the encryption program to terrorists. I pulled up the page that showed the photos of the six members of the al-Sharif terrorist cell. There on the bottom row, left column, was the same man I had seen in a photo with Veronica. Now I knew why he had looked familiar: It wasn’t because he was a celebrity; it was because he was one of the terrorists!
“I looked in Veronica’s photo album,” I said to Tom breathlessly, “from when she lived in Europe. She has a photograph of herself sitting at a restaurant with this man!”
He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say a word, we both heard a noise from the parking lot. It sounded like a woman singing, and we turned to see Armand’s aunt weaving her way down the rows of cars.
“Miz Velette?” Tom asked, stepping toward her. “What’s the matter?”
She looked at us, bleary eyed, and I saw that in her hand was a set of car keys.
“Goin’ home,” she said. “My feet hurt.”
“You driving?” Tom asked. “What about Armand?”
“He’s got his pickup truck. Besides, he’s chatting up some little tootsie inside.” She seemed to locate her car and tried unsuccessfully to put the key in the lock.
“Listen, you can’t be driving in this condition,” Tom said. “We’ll take you home.”
“What about my car?” she slurred.
“Your house isn’t that far up the road. We’ll come back and find Armand and give him the keys. He can drive it home later.”
She considered his proposal and then finally turned and focused in on him.
“Tom?” she asked, squinting at him. “Tom Bennett?”
“Yes, ma’am, it’s me. I’m gonna run you home, okay?”
“Okay. How you been, cher? ”
“Just fine, thanks.”
While I stood there with her, Tom put my computer in the car, and then he jogged down to the other end of the row and retrieved his vehicle.
“Here we go,” he said a minute later as he pulled his rental car to a stop in front of us. I helped Ton Ton into the backseat, where she promptly passed out. I could only hope she wouldn’t end up being sick on the clean carpet.
Tom pulled out onto the highway, the twin headbeams of his vehicle cutting a bright swath through a dark night. He knew the way to Ton Ton’s house, and as she snored from the back, we spoke softly in the front.
“That information you just gave me,” he said, obviously referring to Veronica and her connection with the terrorist, “was already a known factor.”
“A known factor? Known by whom?”
“By all of us.” He glanced back at the sleeping woman and lowered his voice further. “When the arrest was made in the first crime,” he said, meaning when James Sparks was caught selling the encryption program to terrorists, “Veronica immediately came forward. There was no
intentional collusion on her part. She just unfortunately talked about things she shouldn’t have to the wrong people.”
“I don’t understand.”
“At the time she left me and went off to Europe, my company was still up and running, though it was getting near the end. She made friends over there and talked about the frustrations of this ‘exciting encryption program’ that might never see the light of day, one that her friends had developed over in the U.S. Soon, this guy, Habib, got word, and he started cozying up to her to get more information. She didn’t know he was a terrorist; she just thought he was a friend. Within a few weeks, he had names, location, personality descriptions, everything. He came to America and sought out James Sparks, the one they thought was most likely to be bought.”
“Loose lips sink ships,” I said.
“Veronica had a hard time of it. She was fully investigated and her life was turned upside down. I’m ashamed to admit it, but the only one of us who was still willing even to talk to her when all was said and done was Phillip. He had always loved her, you know, and I think he believed in her when the rest of us still had our doubts.”
“Do you have doubts now?”
“Absolutely none. I’ve seen the transcripts and studied the evidence. She was used, yes, but it wasn’t intentional. Still, she carries a lot of guilt around. It doesn’t surprise me that, like me, she ended up being involved in the nonprofit sector. It’s a way to give back, you know. To make amends.”
Tom put on his blinker and turned at the deserted strawberry stand.
“So who does that leave, Tom? Who was Sparks’ accomplice in all of this?”
“Callie, I just keep thinking that the key lies with whoever could’ve reconstructed that encryption program. When we disbanded the company, I saw that all copies of the program were destroyed except one, except mine. I never did quite comprehend how Sparks was able to rebuild it. It is only in the last few days that I have started thinking in terms of the program itself. I think Sparks didn’t want an accomplice, but he had no choice. He must’ve somehow been able to merge the fragments of the program that he had with another member’s fragments, building it back together into one complete whole. If that were the case, then Phillip is ruled out as a suspect. He was a hardware guy, not a programmer.”
The Buck Stops Here Page 31
