Weissman nodded. “Go on, Moshe.”
“We cannot wait any longer,” Gondor continued. “Our options are narrowing fast. The sabotage teams will hit Gerritt’s laboratory and plant tomorrow night. The bauxite shipments will be the next targets.”
Yaacov, who had sat quietly in the background for most of the last four hours, sat up. “Would you add shame to the shame we have already brought upon ourselves?”
Gondor spun around, fire in his eyes. “I told you that we were not monitoring Gerritt’s room! We had listening devices in eleven rooms. You cannot listen to eleven conversations at once. We did not learn about the switch of the medicine until we heard the tapes several hours later.”
“Does negligence lessen the shame?”
“It was not negligence, Papa!” Nathan exploded. “We’ve told you that. If we had known what Gerritt was doing, we would have warned Barclay, but all of us were focusing on the Saudis.”
“And now you take the law in your own hands.”
Gondor threw up his hands in disgust and turned to Weissman, his expression clearly asking for deliverance. Weissman was thoughtful for a moment, then turned to face the white-haired patriarch on the couch. “Mr. Shoshani, I know the prime minister has great confidence in you. I also know that you know the gravity of our present situation. Though we disagree in philosophy, we both want to stop the sale of these planes to our enemies. What do you suggest?”
“Let me talk to Marc Jeppson.”
Gondor snorted in derision behind him. “And tip our hand. You know that from the very first we’ve had to be very careful that the Americans don’t find out we’re in this.”
Yaacov didn’t turn, just watched Weissman steadily. “I have a good friend who is an FBI agent. They already know some of what we’re doing, and they want Gerritt and Hadlow badly. They’re willing to work with us.”
Gondor started to say something, but Weissman motioned him to stay quiet. He had read all the reports. He knew what Yaacov had proposed and why it was rejected. But that was before Barclay had turned over the reins to Jeppson. He also knew of some things starting to transpire in Washington, if only they could buy some time. Finally he nodded.
“You’ve got until noon tomorrow. If Jeppson turns you down, then we move.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brett stood before his father, ramrod stiff, submitting to the quick inspection.
“Do you have your toothbrush?” Marc asked.
“Yes.”
“Pillow?”
“Don’t need one. Jed’s mom says they’ve got plenty.”
“Okay.” Marc looked him up and down. “Now look, kid, this is your first sleepover. You know how Jeppsons are supposed to act?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Polite.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Always say ‘Thank you.’”
“Yes, sir.”
Valerie had come to the kitchen door and was watching the interaction fondly.
“Help with the dishes,” Marc continued.
Slight hesitation, a little less enthusiasm. “Yes, sir.”
“Have a great time.”
Brett’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir!”
“Get out of here!”
“Yes, sir!” Brett whooped and was out the door like a shot.
Marc sighed, shook his head at Valerie. “One down and one to go.” He walked to the hall just in time to see his youngest son dart across the hall and into the bathroom.
“Matt! Come on!”
“Just a minute, Daddy. I’m putting gasoline on my lips.”
“You’re what?”
Valerie poked her head around from the kitchen. “I think the word is Vaseline.”
“Oh,” Marc laughed. Sure enough, a moment later Matt emerged, his lips glistening. “All right, you,” Marc ordered gruffly, “into bed. You’ve had your drink, you’ve said your prayers, you’ve been to the bathroom, and you’ve got gasoline on your lips. Now get in there, and I don’t want to hear another peep.”
Matt disappeared through the doorway, then peered back around at his dad. “Peep!”
Marc stomped a foot. There was a squeal and the sound of a running dive onto the bed.
When he came back into the kitchen a few moments later, Valerie was smiling.
“What are you smirking at?”
She turned back to the counter where she was putting the final touches on a chocolate cake. “Peep, peep!” she said in a tiny little voice.
He laughed and came up to her, putting his arms around her. “What do I have, rebellion on every hand?”
Before she could answer, the doorbell rang. They both looked up in surprise. “I’ll get it,” Marc said.
As he opened the door and stepped back, his mouth dropped. The man standing in his doorway was Yaacov Shoshani.
“Hello, Marc,” Yaacov said, smiling faintly.
“Yaacov. How did you…?” He caught himself, still a little dazed, looked at the second man, who smiled politely. “Come in,” Marc said, opening the door wider.
Yaacov took off his hat and stepped inside. The other followed, and Marc noted he was carrying a briefcase. He was a heavy-set man but trim and very fit. He was dressed in suit and tie, like Yaacov.
“Marc, this is Lynn Braithwaite. Lynn, Marc Jeppson.”
They exchanged greetings as they shook hands, and Marc noted the strong grip of the other. Valerie stepped into the entryway from the kitchen, taking off her apron.
Marc beckoned to her to join him. “This is my fiancée, Valerie Robertson. Val, this is Yaacov Shoshani. I met him in Washington, D.C. He’s from Israel.”
Valerie tossed the apron into the kitchen and came to stand by Marc. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
“And this is Lynn Braithwaite.” He motioned to the chairs. “Sit down, please.” When they had done so, he and Valerie sat together on the couch and Marc turned to Shoshani. “What a surprise this is. How did you ever find me?”
Yaacov took a deep breath. “Marc…” He stopped, took another quick intake of air, and let it out in a weary sigh. “Before we begin, you ought to know that I am here on behalf of the Mossad, Israel’s intelligence service, and Mr. Braithwaite is a special agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
If Marc had gaped at the first sight of Shoshani, now he was dumbfounded. He glanced at Valerie, who was as stunned as he.
“We have something you need to hear, Marc.”
Valerie started, then looked at Marc. “I’ll go in with Matt.” She moved to get up.
Yaacov shot Braithwaite a quick look and got an imperceptible nod. He turned to Valerie. “Miss Robertson, we think it might be well if you heard what we have to say. It could have implications for you as well as Marc.”
She sat back, and Marc reached out and took her hand.
With Yaacov leading out and Braithwaite filling in, they laid it all out for them, starting with the account of the financial state of Gerritt Industries and a visit in October from Andrew Hadlow. The agent took the lead then, sketching in brief but sobering detail the interest the federal government had in Andrew Hadlow and his sponsor, Lyman Perotti.
To that point, Marc was shocked but puzzled. So Gerritt had Mafia connections. He wasn’t sure why they were telling him all this. But then they began describing a trip to Bogotá. They handed him more than two dozen black-and-white photographs. He looked at them slowly, the puzzlement growing at first, then turning to a cold fury as Yaacov talked quietly. It was all there. Alex’s plane parked at the airport, two men jimmying the door, the same two carrying sacks inside, the close-ups—much more clear and sharp now—of sacks of cocaine stuffed into the paneling of the cabin. The last had been taken by federal narcotics agents as Marc and Jackie had sat inside the terminal for three hours waiting to clear customs. When he finally looked up, his mouth was drawn into a hard, tight line.
“Understand, Marc,” Braithwaite said, noting the expression. “There is not the slightest
suspicion that either you or Miss Ashby had knowledge of the fact that you were being used as couriers. It would be helpful if you could tell us how you came to make that trip for Mr. Gerritt.”
Marc did so, his voice low and filled with loathing. Braithwaite took out a small notebook and scribbled quickly as Marc talked. When Marc finished, the agent leaned forward. “The ones we’re really after are Hadlow and Perotti, but I think for the first time we have a shot at getting them if we can get Gerritt.”
Valerie was seething. “You and Jackie could have been arrested. Thrown into prison.”
Yaacov cleared his throat. “I do not wish to deceive you, Marc. The FBI’s interest in all this is clear. But you are probably wondering why Israeli intelligence is involved in an American crime case.”
Marc nodded, his eyes never wavering from those of Yaacov’s. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was wondering. What is your interest, Yaacov?”
The old man sighed again, a sound filled with pain and sorrow. “My country knows about the sale of the F-22s to Saudi Arabia. Our interest is to see that the sale does not take place.”
“And the chance meeting in Washington—”
“It was not by chance. I took it upon myself to meet you and get to know what you were like.”
The pieces were beginning to fit together for Marc. “And you’re telling me all this now so I will no longer deal with Quinn Gerritt, thus stopping the sale.”
Yaacov hesitated, then decided that this young man deserved to be told the truth. “That is our hope.”
“The Israelis have provided us with some very helpful information,” Braithwaite spoke up. “Unfortunately, we cannot use anything they have obtained as evidence. We need your help to nail Quinn Gerritt and his associates and send them away for a very long time.”
“What about the drug shipments?” Valerie asked. “Isn’t that enough evidence?”
“Not much of that will stand up in court. Gerritt is cunning and has covered his tracks well. And Perotti and Hadlow are pros, Marc. You don’t just pick them off the streets.”
“Gerritt is evil, Marc,” Yaacov said. “And the men he runs with are evil. They live by marketing filth and destruction.”
Marc leaned forward. “I know that. But what can I do? I hope you nail Gerritt to the wall, but I can’t just throw away a deal Alex has worked toward for three or four months.”
“There is more, Marc,” Yaacov said sadly. “Much more.”
Braithwaite stood abruptly and went to the door. He opened it and beckoned. A moment or two later, Jonathan Taggart, chief engineer and designer of the VSM-430 radar system, walked in.
When Taggart finally left fifteen minutes later, Marc had his head down in his hands. Valerie was staring at the door in horror and revulsion. “That poor man,” she whispered.
“It is not a pretty picture is it, Marc?” Yaacov said quietly. “But now you see the kind of man with whom you are partners. Gerritt has managed to get in on this deal only through criminal action—extortion, coercion, drug smuggling, using innocent people, including yourself. Are you really willing to work with a man like that?”
Marc finally looked up. “You don’t understand—this is not my choice. If it were, Gerritt would be out this instant, but I am only Alex’s representative.”
“Barclay has given you full power and authority to act.”
“To act in his name! Not go off on my own and overturn everything he has worked for.”
“So you just turn your head aside? Ignore what Gerritt is and what he has done?”
“You can’t!” Valerie cried. “You can’t work with that man!”
“Don’t you understand? It will ruin Alex!” He turned to Valerie. “And right now, that could cost him his life.”
“Could?” Yaacov challenged him softly. “Aren’t you talking probabilities, Marc?”
Marc’s head came around.
“I remember a young man telling me that there are higher considerations than probabilities. Things like faith and integrity and trust in a supreme being.”
Marc just stared, unblinking, almost dazed.
“To save a friend, or destroy an enemy? You have your own Coventry dilemma, Marc Jeppson. I do not envy you.”
For several seconds Marc’s breathing was the only sound in the room. As Valerie watched her fiance struggle with the decision, she suddenly loved him more intensely than she had cared for anything or anyone in her entire life. She took his hand, gripping it tightly, not knowing what to say or how to help him, only knowing that the one thing she wanted at this instant was to stand by him and strengthen him in whatever he decided to do.
Yaacov watched the inward struggle, knowing with terrifying clarity what he had laid on this man’s shoulders. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and grave. “Marc, there is one more thing you must know.” He took a cassette from his pocket, and Braithwaite opened his briefcase and brought out a small tape recorder. Yaacov put the cassette in the machine and pushed the play button. “This was recorded last night in Quinn Gerritt’s suite at the LaRoche approximately eight hours before Alex Barclay’s heart attack. I think you’ll recognize the voices of Gerritt and Derek Parkin. The third man is Andrew Hadlow.”
Long after the two men had left, Marc was still standing at the living room window, staring out into the darkness. Valerie came back from covering Matt, stopped and watched him for a moment, then walked quietly to stand by his side. His arm came up and around her shoulders.
“Val, what do I do?”
“What would Alex want you to do?”
There was not an instant’s hesitation. “Stick with Gerritt and see the deal through.”
“Even if he knew what Gerritt tried to do to him?”
Marc nodded, the sureness of his conviction not helping his emotions. “Yes. I know Alex. ‘We’ll worry about that later,’ he would say. ‘Right now, you just worry about putting that contract to bed once and for all.’”
Valerie knew he was right. “Surely those tapes are enough to convict Gerritt. Then it’s out of your hands.”
Marc shook his head quickly. “You heard Braithwaite. The tapes were illegally obtained. They are not admissable as evidence.”
He fell silent, struggling with the emotions raging within him. Finally Valerie broke the quiet, “Are there any other options?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But so far all you’ve considered is whether to stay with Gerritt and compromise with evil or dump him and destroy Alex. Couldn’t there be a way to dump Gerritt and still see the other through?”
He turned slowly, looking at her in wonder.
She smiled up at him. “After hearing how you crashed the door at Mervyn’s last fall, I have great faith in your ingenuity.”
His face softened, as he chuckled with the memory. “Can you believe I did that?”
She shook her head firmly. “No. Not my level-headed, basically serious Marc Jeppson.”
“I could have won, you know. The store security guy was trying his darndest not to laugh when I told him how I got through that door. But suddenly I said to myself, ‘What are you doing? You’re a college professor, not some juvenile delinquent trying to con a woman out of a sack of marbles.’”
She slipped her arm around his waist. “So put some of that ingenuity to work now.”
Turning, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Where did you come from?”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of tears and joy. “I jogged in from Colorado, remember?”
He didn’t smile, just suddenly pulled her in tight against him. “Do you know, can you even begin to fathom, what you mean to me?” He sighed, coming back to the realities facing them. “I need to think this through. Do you want to go for a walk?”
She looked up again, searching his face, then finally shook her head. “You go. I’ll be here when you come back, and then we can talk.”
It was almost one-thirty when Marc opened the fron
t door and came into the living room. Valerie was sitting in the dark, the light from the entryway putting her face in soft shadow. Marc came slowly to her, sat down, and took both her hands in his.
She waited as he sorted out his thoughts, wanting to touch his face and make the deep lines go away.
“You know what this is all about?” he began.
“What?”
“What Alex calls leverage points. Everything in this whole situation comes down to one person or group of people trying to leverage others. Alex and Jackie leveraged me into staying by telling me about Alex’s condition. Quinn Gerritt leveraged Derek into betrayal with money and by nursing his hurt ego. Jonathan Taggart was leveraged by playing on the terror of his wife and daughter. The Saudis leverage just about everyone with their incredible wealth. It goes on and on.”
Valerie leaned her head against his shoulder. “But Alex is a born infighter, and Hadlow and Gerritt knew they could neither scare him out nor buy him out, so they leveraged him out with a heart attack.”
“Exactly, which then gives Yaacov Shoshani the perfect opening to leverage me, because he knows I can’t just look away from that.”
“And you can’t, can you?”
“How could I? No matter what Alex would do, how can I just turn and look the other way?”
“And what about Alex?”
He stood and walked to the window, pulled the curtains back, and stared out into the night. “You know the answer to that, too. For all his faults, for all his bluster and blow, Alex Barclay is a decent man. He has been very good to me and for me. I won’t ruin him.”
“So?” she asked again.
“So, maybe it’s time I start using what the master taught me. I’m not the only one in this game who can be leveraged.”
She went to him, and he held out his arms. “So you found another way!”
“Yes, I think so. I think I can get Gerritt out and and still save the deal.”
“Marc, that’s wonderful!”
Gerald N. Lund 4-In-1 Fiction eBook Bundle Page 81
