Conspiracy

by Allan Topol

"I agree, but it will be hard to prove that Philip sent it."

  Frustrated, Taylor said, "Then look at the diary entries. He had a meeting with Yahiro Sato on August twenty-eighth in Buenos Aires."

  "Assuming that Y.S. is Yahiro Sato."

  "But isn't that reasonable, given the dates on the two speeches, and everything else?"

  The chief justice waggled his hand back and forth. "It's all reasonable. Personally, I'm convinced that Harrison and Sato planned this whole thing together to knock Senator Boyd out of the race. If all we had was this, I'd want to go forward and confront Harrison. Still, I'd like a little more evidence linking Harrison and Sato. I don't have to remind you, Taylor, that Philip's a skillful lawyer. You don't want him arguing that there's a reasonable doubt."

  The intercom rang. "Mr. McDermott is here," Helen said.

  "Send him in," the Chief replied.

  McDermott had no sooner entered than he reached into his pocket, extracted a microcassette, and placed it on Hall's desk. "I made a copy. You can keep this one."

  Sitting by the recorder, they listened to the tape, which confirmed everything McDermott had said yesterday. At the end, Taylor blurted out, "We've got Harrison nailed to the wall."

  McDermott looked bewildered by her change of position. Yesterday she had been his most ardent defender.

  "What role did the president play in all of this?" Hall asked McDermott gently.

  "None. He had no knowledge of any of it."

  Cady broke in. "You're covering for President Webster. Trying to take the rap."

  "Absolutely not. He had no idea that I met with Harrison. I knew damn well that Webster would not have gone along with it, even if it enhanced his chances for reelection. He's not Nixon. He would have let me take my lumps rather than become a part of something like this."

  Cady thought that was highly unlikely. "Why should we believe you?"

  "You've got too much on me. I can't afford to lie to you. The truth is that the president's not involved. They didn't need him. They had me to do their dirty work."

  "Who killed Senator Boyd?" Cady pressed.

  McDermott drew back. "Beats me. Why don't you ask Harrison?"

  "Harvey Gladstone?"

  "Same answer. Until you told me yesterday, I didn't even know he was dead."

  With his flat denials, the interrogation came to a halt. Silence fell over the room. Finally Hall said, "Seems to me we're about finished with you. The only other thing I want is a promise that you'll never mention a word of this conversation to anybody, including the president."

  "You don't have to worry," said McDermott, perspiring freely. "Boyd and Gladstone are dead. Talking about this meeting would be like signing my own death warrant."

  When McDermott was gone, Hall turned to Taylor and Cady. "Despite what McDermott said, do you think President Webster is involved?"

  "I can't decide," Cady replied. "McDermott's such a slimeball that I'm not willing to trust him. He could still be covering for Webster. Certainly I'm not convinced enough to risk telling the president or Dorfman at the FBI what we now know. Not with this killer on the loose."

  Hall weighed the sensitive issue in his mind. "I have to agree with your last statement," be said reluctantly.

  Taylor was standing in front of the window, facing the Capitol, with her fists tightly clenched.

  "Our next move's easy," Cady said, glancing at her. "With McDermott's tape, we've got an ironclad case against Harrison. Let's extradite him from Japan."

  Taylor turned toward them and shook her head sharply. "We can't go after Harrison alone. We have to get Terasawa and Sato as well."

  "Do you really think the Japanese government would ever extradite Sato?"

  The desire for revenge was burning inside her. "We've got to find a way to make Sato pay for what he's done. And Terasawa, too."

  Cady could tell she was leading up to something. "I'm open to suggestions."

  "There's a Japanese lawyer I know by the name of Fujimura," Taylor replied.

  "Kenzo Fujimura," Hall said.

  "You know him?" Taylor asked, surprised.

  "We've met several times over the years at international legal conferences. He's a superb lawyer. I have a great deal of respect for him."

  "Fujimura's in California now, working on a corporate transaction," Taylor said. "I want to fly out today, tell him about our Harrison-Sato case, and seek his advice. Perhaps enlist his support."

  The Chief took off his glasses, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes, mulling over Taylor's proposal. "It's not a bad idea," he replied at length. "Fujimura's well connected with the Japanese government. He could approach Prime Minister Nakamura for us and try to gain Nakamura's acquiescence before we make the request for Sato's extradition." Hall saw Cady cringing in his chair, and stopped. "Why don't you like the idea, C.J.?"

  "I'm not sure we can trust Fujimura. If he's worked with Taylor, he probably knows Harrison. How do we know he isn't mixed up in this as well?"

  "I say we give it a try," Taylor replied.

  "And there's something else," Cady said.

  "When the chips are down, the Japanese stick together. If it's Sato against us, they'll all close ranks behind Sato."

  The Chief was taken aback. "C'mon, C.J., you're not serious."

  "Unfortunately, I am. Look, I'm not as much of an expert on Japan as she is," he said, pointing to Taylor. "But even I know how intense nationalism in Japan is."

  Taylor couldn't believe what Cady had said. "That's ridiculous. The Japanese are like any other people, some good and some bad."

  "Listen, you two," Cady said defensively, "I'm not a racist. All I'm saying is that until we know for sure that Fujimura and Nakamura aren't involved, we're running a big risk to trust them."

  Cady and Taylor turned to Hall, wanting to see what side he would come down on.

  "I have to agree with Taylor," Hall said. "I'm prepared to trust Fujimura."

  Cady stared at the Chief before he realized any further effort was futile. Glumly, he said, "I'll do it your way. I just hope you two are right."

  "Clearly it's a risk," said the Chief. "But our only hope now, with Harrison in Tokyo, is to get some help from the Japanese side. Fujimura's our best bet. I would only change one thing."

  "What's that?" Taylor asked.

  "You two can't take a chance on going out to California yourselves. This is too big for the three of us, and too dangerous. Last night proves that. Let's face it, we're two lawyers and one old sick judge. On our own we wouldn't have a chance."

  Cady disagreed. "But we managed last night…"

  "You got lucky last night, C.J. Before you go to California or anywhere else, the two of you need logistical support. You need somebody to protect you."

  "I'd love that," said Cady, "but how do we get it without involving the president?"

  "Let me try Paul Clayton," the Chief said. "He's been a close Mend of mine for many years."

  Taylor interjected, "General Clayton, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs?"

  "You know him, Taylor?"

  "Senator Boyd was an air force buddy of Clayton's in Vietnam. They flew F-4s together, and they kept up a friendship over the years. Even though the senator wasn't on the Armed Services Committee, General Clayton usually stopped by the senator's office when he was testifying on the Hill. I met him a number of times when I was with the senator."

  "But General Clayton works for the president," protested Cady.

  Hall replied, "I think I can persuade Paul to give you the help you need without the knowledge of the president. He's not a big fan of Webster, and he's got a large petty-cash fund."

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, crossing the Fourteenth Street Bridge in the back of a dark blue unmarked Ford Crown Victoria with Cady and the Chief, Taylor thought about what she knew of General Clayton. He was an example of what a military hero should be. Besides having an outstanding war record in Vietnam, he was well regarded by the men and w
omen serving under him. He was viewed as honest and forthright. He wasn't afraid to be outspoken if he thought the issue justified it. Guiding the air force through a difficult time of sharp cuts in the defense budget was no easy task, but somehow General Clayton managed it. He also enjoyed a remarkable degree of good feeling with congressional leaders.

  They entered the vast and gloomy Pentagon parking lot at the north gate. The marine driver made his way around rows of parked cars and into an underground garage. Inside, he led them into a private elevator that went straight to the office of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

  General Clayton, a tall, imposing figure with a full head of black hair, was waiting in the doorway to his office. His shoulders were broad and his chest large, thrusting forward the four gold stars on his blue uniform and his numerous decorations.

  "I'm sorry about Charles," he said to Taylor. "I was at the memorial service at the National Cathedral. I wanted to talk to you after it was over. Somehow I missed you in the crowd."

  "It wasn't a very good day for me, I'm afraid."

  "Or the country, for that matter. I liked Charles. I thought he would have made a good president." He held a hand out to the chief justice. "Should we all go into my office, Gary?"

  "It would be best if I briefed you alone first," Hall said.

  The two of them disappeared into Clayton's office, leaving Taylor and Cady to wait outside.

  For the next thirty minutes, Cady and Taylor impatiently flipped through old magazines to pass the time. They both looked up when the door to Clayton's office opened. Standing in the doorway, the general had a tense expression on his face.

  The Chief took Taylor and Cady aside. "I've told him everything. He'll give you all the help you need. Not only because he liked Senator Boyd, but he knows that it's in the best interest of the country. He agrees that until we know for certain that Webster isn't involved, the president can't be told anything about this."

  "What do we do now?" asked Cady.

  Hall coughed, a long, hacking cough that gave Cady a chill inside.

  "You two go in and talk to General Clayton," he said. "I'm going back to the court."

  * * *

  About a dozen model airplanes were scattered on tables, bookcases, and credenzas in General Clayton's huge office.

  "I have to tell you two," General Clayton said, "if I hadn't heard it from Gary, I would never have believed it. It's a classic case of American intelligence making the wrong judgment."

  "I'm sorry," Taylor replied. "I don't understand."

  "We have a score of people at the Pentagon in military intelligence who do nothing but watch Asia and try to predict what's going to happen there. But all of them have discounted any immediate threat being posed by Sato. They've been worrying about the risk posed to Taiwan by China's increased militarization and North Korea's nuclear development program. They missed the real issue. It's like Saddam Hussein all over again."

  General Clayton stopped and tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. "I take it back," he said, "there is one of my people in intelligence, Major Jonathan Green, who has been writing memos warning us to focus on Sato because he has a good chance of being the next prime minister, and he's strongly committed to Japanese militarization. The difficulty is that nobody, myself included, paid much attention to Major Green."

  "Then you view your role in this as more than protecting us," said Taylor.

  "Exactly. This is the Pentagon. Everybody has their own agenda, myself included. As I see it, you two are a little gift from heaven that dropped into my lap. If I can use you two and this conspiracy to disgrace Sato and prevent him from achieving a position of power in Tokyo, then the world will be a safer place."

  "Did the chief justice tell you about Taylor's plan to meet with Fujimura in Los Angeles tomorrow?" Cady asked, appealing to a new arbitrator.

  "I think it's a fine idea. It gives us a possible solution. Most important, it may give the Japanese government a face-saving way out as well. If—and it's a big if—Sato is operating without Japanese governmental approval, and if disclosure is made in the right way to his government, we may be able to induce Nakamura to extradite Sato along with Harrison to the United States." He turned to Taylor. "The trouble is that I don't know Fujimura personally. If you and Gary are prepared to trust him, that's good enough for me. Where's he staying in Los Angeles?"

  "He has a suite at the Hotel Bel Air," replied Taylor.

  Cady hung his head, knowing he was defeated.

  "Call him, Taylor," Clayton said. "Try to set up a meeting there this evening at six. Just the two of you—you and Fujimura. I'll fly you out in a military plane. You'll have bodyguards and a military escort, but I want them and Cady in the background. My suggestion is that you act as if you're still on your own."

  "That's risky for her, isn't it?" asked Cady.

  "My people won't be too far away. Even if Fujimura's working with Sato, I doubt that he'll try to harm Taylor in his own hotel suite. You comfortable with that, Taylor?"

  "Very much so. Let's do it."

  She was starting to feel better about this plan. They would be protected by the military, and she'd be meeting a man she'd known for years. Together they would find a way to unmask the conspirators and make them pay.

  Chapter 28

  The L.A. basin was shrouded in fog when General Clayton's plane began its descent at Edwards Air Force Base. In her seat next to Clayton, Taylor closed her eyes and tried to make a final decision about how to play her meeting with Fujimura. The difficulty was that all of Cady's arguments, which he had continued to press through the long plane ride, had managed to plant a substantial doubt in her mind. Suppose Cady was right and Fujimura was a part of the Sato-Harrison conspiracy? Even if he was not involved, would he instinctively support his countryman? If so, would she be laying a new trap for herself?

  A black Dodge Caravan was parked on the runway. From the outside it looked like any other minivan, except that the glass was treated to prevent people from looking in. But the inside of the van was anything but ordinary. Because it was the van that was used to accompany the president when he made trips to California, it was loaded with sophisticated telecommunication and recording gear. There were also enough arms, including machine guns, inside this traveling fortress to outfit a small army. The side glass paneling of the van was bulletproof and doubly reinforced. Two marines were sitting up front, and four more were in the back as Clayton, Taylor, and Cady climbed in.

  Not knowing how Fujimura would react, and wanting to avoid a leak that would eliminate the element of surprise, Clayton had decided not to alert the Hotel Bel Air, the LAPD, or the private security force that patrolled the Bel Air community about their visit. His plan was to drop Taylor off at the hotel and then park nearby, where he would monitor her conversation with Fujimura, broadcast from a microphone he planned to fasten to the clasp of her purse.

  As the van crawled along the San Diego Freeway in the heavy traffic, Clayton asked one of the marines to hook up the microphone. Taylor balked.

  "I changed my mind," she said emphatically. "I don't want to do it that way, secretly recording my conversation with Fujimura."

  "Why not?" Clayton asked, puzzled. "That's the way we agreed to do it."

  "It may be silly, but it's a matter of honor. He's been a good friend, and I want him to help me. We have no reason to believe he's with Sato on this."

  "He'll never know that the conversation is recorded."

  "That's not the point, General Clayton."

  Cady was upset, thinking about the risk to her. "C'mon, Taylor," he said. "General Clayton's proposal is the way to go."

  "I won't do that," she said stubbornly.

  "So how do you want to do it?" Clayton asked her.

  "Drop me off at the hotel. Come back in an hour. If I'm not in front then, return an hour later. When you pick me up I'll give you a complete report."

  "You're putting yourself at great risk," Cady said.

  "Wh
at's he going to do? Drown me in the hotel pool?"

  "At least let me go with you," Cady said. "We can meet with him together."

  "It has to be me alone."

  "But—"

  Clayton cut him off. "We'll do it your way," he said to Taylor. "But if you're not out in front the second time we return for you, then we're coming in for you fully armed."

  * * *

  On one other occasion Taylor had been at the glamorous Hotel Bel Air. When she was working for the California governor, she had attended a power breakfast there with half a dozen top executives in the electric power industry. At the time she had been staggered by the sheer luxury of the place, which was surrounded by ten-million-dollar private homes. Unlike other hotels, the Bel Air wasn't a building, but a series of cottages scattered throughout carefully tended grounds. Swans gracefully adorned the pond created in front. Here, the aura of Hollywood's fabled years lived on in unparalleled splendor.

  As Taylor exited the van, an attendant came up, dressed casually, California style, in khaki slacks and a white sport shirt. "Can I help you, miss?"

  "I'm here to meet with one of your guests."

  The front desk called Fujimura's suite to verify that she was expected, and a bellman led her along a tree-lined path to a large cottage at the back of the property. Incredibly, everything looked the same as she remembered. It was chilly in the early evening air, and, whether from the cold or apprehension, Taylor found herself trembling as she walked.

  * * *

  Dressed in a suit and tie, standing in front of his cottage, Fujimura bowed, then led her inside. Flames were leaping in the stone fireplace. Coffee, tea, and a tray of small sandwiches were spread out on a table in the living room. Two waiters clad in white jackets stood by the table to serve.

  Taylor nibbled a chocolate-chip cookie and sipped coffee as Fujimura told her how sorry he was about Senator Boyd. Then he made small talk in English about the beauty of the hotel. She knew that he wouldn't talk business, even in Japanese, until they had finished eating and he could politely dismiss the two waiters.

  When they were gone, he lit a cigarette and continued talking in English. "You told me on the phone that you had a serious matter to discuss with me. I assume it's about the gas company acquisition you and Harrison are working on."