Night Fall jc-4

by Nelson DeMille

  Jill said to me, “Why don’t you call him?”

  I replied, “He’ll call me.”

  “What if there’s a problem?”

  “He’ll call me.”

  She said, “You looktoo calm.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want a drink?”

  “I do, but I’ll wait for the phone call to see if I need one or two.”

  She said, “I’m looking forward to meeting Kate.”

  “Me, too. I mean, seeing her again.” I added, “I think you’ll like her.”

  “Will she like me?”

  “Why wouldn’t she? You’re very nice.”

  She didn’t reply.

  At 4:36, I decided to give it until 4:45, then I’d call Fanelli.

  At 4:45, I imagined Dom Fanelli in Federal custody, Kate in a car with Ted Nash, and a call from Nash informing me that he’d trade Kate for Jill and the videotape. I could almost hear his voice saying, “John, Kate and I are going to spend some quality time in a safe house until you give up Mrs. Winslow and her home movie.”

  I felt, for the first time in many years, a real fear gripping me by the throat.

  I thought about my response to a ransom demand from Ted Nash, knowing that this bastard didn’t play by any rules. His endgame was to go for a total shutout-he wanted Jill, the videotape, Kate, and me. So, no matter how I responded to his demands, he’d cheat and lie, and there would be no exchange of prisoners; there would be only a massacre. Therefore, my only possible response to him would be “Fuck you.”

  I looked at Jill. I wasn’t giving her up to Ted Nash.

  I thought of Kate. She’d understand.

  Jill said to me, “You don’t look well.”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  She picked up her cell phone and said, “I’m calling Detective Fanelli.”

  “No.” I said, “I’ll call.” I turned on my cell phone and waited for a message beep, but there was none. I shut off the cell phone and reached for the room phone just as it rang. I let it ring twice, then answered, “Corey.”

  Dom Fanelli said, “Up his ass.”

  “Dom-”

  “What a total prick. How do you know this asshole? Here’s Kate.”

  My heart started beating again, and Kate said, “John. I’m all right. But what a scene that was. Ted-”

  “Where are you now?”

  “In the back of a police car with Dom.”

  I looked at Jill and gave her a thumbs-up, and she smiled.

  Kate said, “John, Ted Nash isalive. He was at the airport-”

  “Yeah. I know. But I’ve got some good news, too.”

  “Why do you think it’s bad news that he’s alive? What the hell is going on?”

  “Did Dom tell you anything?” I asked.

  “No, but I was able to figure out some of it. Dom says he doesn’t know anything except that he was told by you to pick me up and take me to where you are. Why aren’t you here?What is going on?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “You’ll see when you get here. It’s best if we don’t talk over the phone.” I said, “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too. I didn’t expect quite this kind of reception. What the hell was Ted-?”

  “It’s really a long story for later.”

  “Did you find-?”

  “Later.”

  “Areyou all right?”

  “I am. But the situation is a little dicey.”

  “Which must mean it’s critical. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m all right. You’re all right. Put Dom back on. See you shortly.” I said, “I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  Fanelli came back on the line and said, “How do you work with these people? They have no respect for the law or the police-”

  “Dom, are you being followed?”

  “We are. But I called in some more PDs, and in a few minutes these assholes behind us are going to be pulled over for failing to signal.”

  “Good work. I owe you one.”

  “One?You owe me mucho. Hey, Kate looks great. Nice tan. Did you get a lot of exercise there? You lost some weight. I mean, you always looked great, but I can see you lost weight.”

  I realized, of course, he was talking to her, not me. I asked him, “What kind of force did they turn out?”

  “Huh? Oh, just four guys, but they made enough noise for forty. One guy keeps yelling, ‘FBI! FBI! You’re interfering with blah, blah, blah!’ And I’m going, like, ‘Police! Police! Step aside. Get back!’ and all that. I had these two Port Authority cops, and they turned it around with the jurisdiction thing.” He added, “It was fun, but it got a little hairy for a while. Kate completely turned it around by saying, ‘Unless you have a Federal arrest warrant for me, or a Federal subpoena, Idemand — ’ get it?‘Demand that you let me pass.’ Well, by now, we’ve got Customs people there, and some airport security cops, and who the fuck-sorry-who knows who else? So, then-”

  “Okay. I get it. How many cars are behind you?”

  He didn’t reply for a few seconds, then said, “There were two… I don’t see any now. You gotta signal when you change lanes. Sometimes peoplethink they signal, but-”

  “Okay. What’s your ETA?”

  “I don’t know. Rush hour… rookie driver behind the wheel-”

  I heard a male voice say, “Rookie? Who’s a rookie? You wanna drive?”

  I heard some bantering in the car from three males, who had perfected the art of the insult, and I could picture Kate rolling her eyes. I said, “I’ll see you when you get here.” I gave him the suite number again and said, “Tell Kate to shut off her cell phone and beeper, if they’re on.”

  “Gotcha. See you later, partner.”

  “Thanks, again.” I hung up.

  Jill came over to me and gave me a big hug. She said, “You must be so relieved.”

  I returned the hug and said, “One less thing to worry about.”

  She took my hands and looked at me. She said, “I understand what could have happened if it didn’t go well at the airport.”

  I didn’t reply.

  She said, “I’m going to leave you alone so you can greet your wife without company.”

  “No. Stay. I want you to meet Dom Fanelli-”

  “Some other time. Meanwhile, you need one drink.”

  She went into her bedroom.

  I contemplated the bar for a few seconds, then got myself a Scotch and carried it to the window.

  A low blanket of clouds lay over the city, but the TV weatherman had predicted brilliant sunshine for tomorrow morning.

  It was odd, I thought, that what had started out as a half day off from work in July to accompany my wife to a memorial service had turned into this.

  Kate always had an inkling of where this would go, but I had been clueless. Almost clueless.

  And for Jill Winslow and Bud Mitchell, what had started out as a tryst on the beach had become a classic case of doing something wrong in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  And now, a little over five years later, all these paths had converged, and they’d meet tomorrow at the crossroads of the Windows on the World.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  The doorbell rang

  I peeked through the peephole and saw Kate standing there looking, I thought, tense. I opened the door, and she broke into a big grin. She tossed her overnight bag into the foyer, then threw her arms around me. We kissed, hugged, and said all sorts of stupid things.

  After about a minute of this, I picked her up off her feet and carried her into the living room.

  She looked around the room and asked me, “Did you hit the lottery while I was away?”

  “Actually, I did.”

  We went back to the kissing and hugging and old Willie Peter was trying to break out of the teepee.

  She grabbed my hand and pulled me down on the couch on top o
f her. Probably it was a good thing that Jill was in her room.

  After a few minutes of couch frolic, I said, “You must need a drink.”

  “No. I want you to make love to me. Right here. Remember the first time we did it on my couch?” She began unbuttoning her blouse.

  I said, “Hold on… I’m sharing this suite.”

  She raised her head and looked around. “With who?”

  I said, “That’s my bedroom there. And that door leads to another bedroom.”

  “Oh…” She sat up, and I stood. She buttoned her blouse and asked, “Whose bedroom is that?”

  “Let me make you a drink.” I went to the bar and asked, “Still vodka?”

  “Yes. John, what’s happening? Why are you here?”

  “Tonic?”

  “Yes.” She stood and came over to the bar. I handed her her drink, took mine, and said, “Welcome home.”

  We clinked glasses, and she looked around the room again. She asked me, “Is anyone in that bedroom?”

  “Yes. Have a seat.”

  “I’ll stand. What’s going on? What was that all about at the airport?”

  I said, “I’ve been busy since I got home.”

  “You said you were taking R amp; R at the beach.”

  “I was. Westhampton Beach.”

  She stared at me and said, “You were looking into the case.”

  “I was.”

  “I said we should drop it.”

  She looked at me a long time, and I said, “You don’t seem overly thrilled.”

  “I thought we agreed to let it alone and get on with our lives.”

  I replied, “I promised you I’d find that couple, and I have.”

  She sat down on the couch and said, “Youfound them?”

  “Yes.” I pulled up a chair, and sat facing her. I said, “First, you have to understand that we may be-actually, weare in some danger.”

  She said, “I sort of figured that… at the airport. My second clue was when Dom shoved a.38 Special in my handbag.”

  “I hope you didn’t give it back.”

  “I didn’t. Am I sleeping here tonight?”

  “Sweetheart, if you’ve got the gun, you can sleep here with me.”

  She smiled. “You’re so romantic.”

  I asked her, “Where is Dom Fanelli and the other two cops?”

  “Dom left. He said he didn’t want to butt in on our reunion. The two cops are at the elevators on this floor. They said at least one of them would be there through the night.”

  “Good.”

  “Tell me why we need them.”

  “Because your friend Ted Nash would like to get rid of me, you, and Jill Winslow.”

  “What are you-? Who is Jill Winslow?”

  “The star of the videotape.”

  She nodded. “Why would Ted…? Well, I guess I can figure that out.” She looked at me and said, “I’m sorry if I’m not taking this all in as quickly as I should…”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  “I’m jet-lagged, but that’s the least of it-I expected something else when I got home. I expected you at the airport, then we’d go back to our apartment. Instead, all hell breaks loose when I step out of the jetway… and now you’re telling me that we’re in danger, and you found-”

  “Kate, let me start at the beginning-”

  “How did you find them? Did they have a videotape of-?”

  “Let me take it from the top.”

  She pulled her legs up on the couch. “I won’t interrupt.”

  I looked at her and said, “First, I love you. Second, you have a nice tan, and third, I missed you.” Fourth, you lost some weight.

  She smiled and said, “Youhave a nice tan, and you lost alot of weight. Where did you get that shirt?”

  “That’s part of the story.”

  “Then tell me.”

  I began at Kennedy Airport and my return from Yemen, then Dom Fanelli, Philadelphia, and Roxanne Scarangello.

  Kate sat motionless except to bring her drink to her lips. She kept eye contact with me, but I couldn’t tell if she was impressed, incredulous, or so jet-lagged that she wasn’t taking it all in. Now and then she nodded, or opened her eyes wide, but she never said a word.

  I continued on, through my midnight ride to the Bayview Hotel, Mr. Rosenthal’s archives, and the discovery of the name of Jill Winslow.

  At this point, she asked me, “Did you find the guy?”

  “I know who he is-a guy named Bud Mitchell-but he’s not under my control.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Ted has him. He’ll be all right for now, but if Ted determines that Bud Mitchell is more of a liability than an asset, then he goes.”

  “Goes where?”

  “Goes to where Ted came from.”

  She didn’t reply.

  I recounted my meeting with Ted Nash on the beach, but downplayed the physical confrontation by saying, “We got into a shoving match.”

  She looked at the bandage on my chin, but didn’t say anything.

  I told her Ted’s version of the story about how he found Bud Mitchell through fingerprints, then Jill Winslow through Bud, and how Ted and Liam Griffith and the mysterious Mr. Brown visited both these people and learned that the videotape had been physically destroyed. I related Ted’s story to me about the polygraph tests, and his claim that he was convinced that the videotape didn’t show anything that pointed to a missile attack. I said to Kate, “As shocking as this sounds, I think Ted was lying to me.”

  She ignored my sarcasm, and asked, “Did Ted say that these people were actually doing it on the videotape?”

  “They were. Which was one reason they didn’t want to come forward.”

  She looked at me and asked, “So, you could find Jill Winslow?”

  “I did.”

  “And where is she now?”

  “Behind that door.”

  She looked at the door, but said nothing.

  I continued, “So that night, knowing that Ted Nash was on my case, I went to Old Brookville, where Dom said a Jill Winslow lived.”

  I went on with the briefing, trying to stick to the facts while giving her a little of my thought processes that went into this. I mean, I wasn’t blowing my own horn, but as I told the story, even I was impressed with my detective work.

  I got to the part where I asked Jill Winslow aboutA Man and a Woman. I said to Kate, who was sitting up straight now, “That night at the hotel, she copied the beach cassette onto the videotape of A Man and a Woman that she borrowed from the hotel library.” I added, “She used a Band-Aid to cover the slot. Clever lady.” Clever John.

  She stared at me, then said, “Did she still have the copied tape?”

  “She did.”

  “Did you see it? Do you have it?”

  “I saw it, and I have it.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In my room.”

  She stood. “I want to see it. Now.”

  “Later. Let me finish.”

  “What does it show?”

  “It shows a fucking missile blowing that 747 out of the sky.”

  “My God…”

  She sat down and said to me, “I still don’t understand why Jill Winslow decided to confide in you after all these years and admit that she copied that tape and still had it.”

  I thought about that question, and said, “I think I won her confidence… but more important, she’s a good person who was haunted by this event. I think she was waiting for an opportunity or a sign that the time had come to do the right thing.”

  Kate nodded. “I understand. But doesshe understand what’s going to happen? I mean, her marriage, her life, her friend Bud…?”

  “She understands. Bud’s the one having a problem.”

  “But she’s a stand-up witness?”

  “She is.” I continued and told Kate about coming to the Plaza, and about my various phone calls from Dead Ted, and Jill’s phone calls from her husband, and Bud Mitc
hell, and also Jill’s call from Ted.

  Kate remarked, “That poor woman. How is she holding up?”

  “Pretty good. She’ll be better now that you’re here. She needs another woman to talk to.”

  “That’s uncommonly sensitive of you. Is your new shirt in any way related to the new you?”

  “No.” I said to her, “I also called our boss, and I have to tell you, Kate, Jack Koenig knows something about this, and he’s sitting on the fence.”

  She seemed surprised, then incredulous, and asked, “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure something is not right there.”

  She didn’t respond to that, but asked me, “All right, what happens next with Mrs. Winslow and the videotape?”

  “I’ve arranged a meeting for tomorrow morning with Ted Nash, Liam Griffith, someone from the attorney general’s office, Jill Winslow, maybe Bud Mitchell, and maybe others like David Stein, and also Jack Koenig, who wanted to take a pass on the meeting, but who I convinced to be there.”

  She asked, “Where is the meeting?”

  I replied, “I was thinking about you, and our last night together in New York, so I made it for breakfast at eight-thirty at Windows on the World.”

  She thought about that and said, “I guess that’s a good place… public…”

  “And we said we’d return there.”

  She said, “I don’t think we’re going to have as good a time as last time.” She asked me, “Are you sure that’s the right way to handle this?”

  “How would you handle it?”

  “I’d go right to the top. To FBI Headquarters in Washington.”

  “I don’t know anyone in Washington.”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t know who you can trust there.”

  “That’s a little paranoid.”

  “Whatever. Washington’s a stretch. Let’s meet the devils we know here on our turf before we go meet the devils we don’t know in Washington.”

  She thought about that, then asked me, “Who do you think could be involved in a cover-up? And why?”

  “I don’t know. That’s not my problem at the moment. But when the shit hits the fan, we’ll see who runs for cover.”

  She processed all this and said, “I hope it’s not Jack.”