Foster walked along with a glass of champagne in hand, stealthily looking for anyone who might recognize her so she could do a bit of preening. Failing to find anyone interested in her, Foster decided to visit the ladies’ room.
Inside the ladies’ room, while she was reapplying her lipstick, Foster heard a voice.
“Hello, Ellen.”
She froze but only for an instant. She glanced in the mirror, saw no one.
“I locked the door. We won’t be disturbed.”
Foster slowly turned. “I’m armed.”
“No, you’re not.”
Kelly Paul emerged from the shadows and faced her. Even in her three-inch heels Foster was dwarfed by the other woman.
“Kelly Paul?” Foster shook her head. “You have unbelievable balls to be doing this.”
“Doing what? Taking a pee? Don’t they allow that at Lincoln Center anymore?”
Foster rested her rump on the granite sink and folded her arms across her chest.
“I could have you arrested right now.”
“For what?”
“Any number of things.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“I really don’t have time for this.”
“Peter Bunting?” said Paul.
“What about him?”
“You set him up nicely.”
“On the contrary, he dug his own grave.”
Paul held up her hands. “Check me for a wire if you want. You can be frank.”
Foster looked at her like she had lost her mind. “I need to get back to the party. And just in case you’re looking to get away, my men have all the exits locked down. I’ll look forward to seeing how many charges are filed against you.”
Foster started to walk out.
“It’s interesting about Mason Quantrell, isn’t it?”
Foster paused, her hand on the doorknob.
“Who?” she said.
“The Mercury Group? Mason Quantrell. Your partner in crime?”
“It’s appalling to see how far you’ve fallen. You used to be somewhat special. This performance is about as amateur and pathetic as I’ve ever seen.”
“Bunting is a very smart man. He outfoxed Quantrell,” said Paul. “He connected the dots and found the proof. Quantrell knows he’s going down for it. But he’s also looking to work a deal with the FBI. Care to guess what they’ll want in return?”
Foster just stood there, staring at her.
“Is this still an amateur production, Ellen?”
“I’m listening, if only for my own amusement.” However, the woman’s confidence was clearly diminished.
“The story won’t take long. Quantrell is about to rat you out.”
Foster managed a smile. “About what?”
Paul ticked them off on her left hand. “The six bodies in the barn. A dead lawyer and his secretary. A dead director of Cutter’s. A dead Maine state trooper. And most of all a dead FBI agent. The boys at Hoover really get pissed when you take out one of their own. And you didn’t have to, Ellen. So what if he found out about the E-Program? Did you really need to do that? He had three kids.”
“This is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want my brother back, safe and sound. And I need you to do that.”
For the first time uncertainty crept into Foster’s eyes. “Your brother was broken out of Cutter’s Rock by people impersonating FBI agents. By you, in other words.”
“That was Quantrell’s people and you know it.”
“But—”
“But what? Did he feed you some bullshit that the plan didn’t go off? That he lost my brother?” Paul drew closer to the other woman. “I want Eddie back, Ellen. And one way or another I will get him back.” She paused and a look of incredulity came over her features as she studied the vacuous look on the other woman’s face. “Did Quantrell play you, too? Did he tell you that he would snatch Roy and then kill him? Blame Bunting? Hell, Bunting’s ass is already fried. The E-Program is over. You didn’t need Eddie for that. That’s just piling it on. My brother could just rot in that prison; it would make no difference to you. You already won. Didn’t you get that?”
She drew closer still, so she was looking right down at Foster. “Eddie is innocent. I couldn’t care less about the E-Program, but I’ll be damned if my brother is going to lose his life so you can score a useless victory over Peter Bunting. By now you must know the guy tricked you with his wife attempting suicide. He’s already gone somewhere that doesn’t extradite here.”
“I don’t know where your brother is, that’s the truth,” Foster said slowly.
Paul took a step back. “Then my coming to see you was a waste of time.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Foster answered in a hushed voice.
Paul said, “You’re the head of DHS, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to think this shit through, Ellen. And aligning yourself with Quantrell? Where did that brilliant idea come from? You knew that Bunting kicked his ass with the E-Program. So you had to know he wasn’t in the same league with Bunting brainwise. Did you think Bunting would just roll over and give up? He could eat Quantrell’s lunch any day of the week. You really picked your ally very poorly. Who the hell advised you to do that?”
Foster was clearly now in full retreat mode. “I didn’t… I mean—We can get Bunting—”
Paul didn’t let her finish. “Good God, haven’t you been listening to me? Your people lost track of Bunting. They have no idea where he is. The man is gone!”
Foster said nothing to this. Her mouth was moving but no words came out.
“You backed Bunting into a corner, but the man always has an out. And Quantrell was stupid enough to deliver it to him. But Quantrell was also smart enough to obviously recognize something you apparently didn’t.”
“What are you—”
“Edgar Roy? A true E-Six? Only one on the planet? Do you know what he would be worth to this country’s enemies? Do you know how much Quantrell could sell him for?”
“He would never work for another country.”
“Who, my brother or Quantrell?”
“Either.”
“Did you know that when Quantrell was first starting out he was almost banned from government contracting work because he sold restricted weapons parts to China? He only got out of it through his fancy lawyers and blaming it on a subordinate. He’d sell his own mother to Kim Jong-Il if he thought he could make money. And while it’s true my brother would never knowingly work against his country, don’t you think the Russians or the North Koreans or the Syrians couldn’t find a way to persuade him? Their torture techniques are old-school but they’re still highly effective. Trust me, I know.”
“So you’re saying Quantrell—”
“Of course he double-crossed you. That’s how he’s wired. And now that Bunting kicked his ass and saved himself, Quantrell’s going to throw you under the bus to save his ass. It’s called dominos for adults. Which leaves my brother in total limbo right now. Which is not good. He’s a loose end, and they don’t have long life expectancies.”
Foster was now tottering a bit in her three-inch heels.
Paul took the woman’s hand off the doorknob and unlocked it. “But since it’s now quite apparent that you were too stupid to see any of this coming and you possess absolutely nothing that can help me, I’ll just have to look elsewhere for what I need. Besides, what can you do from a jail cell, anyway?”
She pointed at a corner of Foster’s mouth. “You went outside the lines a bit there. Might want to fix that for your mug shot.”
Paul closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER
76
MICHELLE WAS DRIVING.
Sean was shotgun.
Edgar Roy
was in the backseat of the van.
The drive had been long and they had stopped only twice, for bathroom breaks. When they pulled down the country lane, Michelle slowed the van.
“I know Bunting told us we were off grid when we came here before to meet Kelly Paul, but this case has given me a large case of paranoia.”
Sean nodded as his gaze swept the area. It was the perfect place for an ambush.
“But other things being equal it’s better than checking into a motel.”
“Only if we don’t end up getting killed,” Roy said.
Sean looked at him in surprise. Roy had spent most of the trip in silence.
“A brilliant observation,” said Michelle sarcastically. She put the van in park and glanced sideways at Sean. “Plan?”
“I can always sneak up there, and if someone is waiting for us, they can kill me and you can get away.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I was kidding.”
“I know. I’ll go.”
“I’m not letting you do that, Michelle.”
“I don’t remember asking for permission, sire.”
“Do you two always talk this way?” asked Roy.
They both stared at him.
“What way?” barked Michelle, her gaze boring into him.
“Uh, never mind,” said Roy. He looked down at his hands.
Sean said, “We can drive past, see if anyone comes after us.”
“Or we can set up a recon point on that hill over there, hunker down, and watch the place,” replied Michelle.
“Or we can just do it the old-fashioned way,” said Sean.
“What does that mean?” asked Roy.
“Wait in the van,” said Michelle. “And don’t open the door to strangers.”
They approached the house from back and front. It took them all of ten minutes to clear it. The farmhouse was empty and looked just like it had when they had been there previously. Michelle drove the van into the barn behind the house, and she and Roy got out and walked toward the house after Michelle closed the barn doors.
“This is my sister’s place?” said Roy, gazing around.
“For now, I guess. I assume she doesn’t stay in one place for long periods of time?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“But you two have obviously stayed close. She’s risked a lot to help.”
“She’s always protected me.”
Sean came onto the front porch and overheard this. “Have you needed protection a lot?”
“Yes, I guess I have.”
“Let’s get inside,” said Michelle, looking around. “I’m not too keen about the surroundings. Sniper heaven.”
Inside, they found a pantry full of food, wood for the fireplaces, warm coats and boots, flannel shirts, pajamas, and clean sheets on the beds.
Michelle lifted up one of the coats. “I think I’ll put this on right now. It’s freezing outside and it’s not much better in here.”
“I’ll get a fire started,” said Sean.
“I can cook if you want,” said Roy.
Michelle shot him a glance. “You can cook?”
“Yes, but if you’d rather do it, that’s fine.”
“She’d rather not,” said Sean quickly, ignoring a dirty look from Michelle.
After a meal of pork chops, vegetables, biscuits, and a slice each of a store bought apple pie that Roy had found in the freezer, they settled in front of a blazing fire.
“Any word from Kelly or Bunting?” asked Michelle.
Sean said, “Just got a text. They each made contact with their respective targets. And each was apparently very successful.”
Roy nodded, his eyes on the fire. “They’re playing Quantrell and Foster against each other.”
Sean said, “Did your sister tell you that was the plan?”
“No, it’s just the most obvious one. I met Foster twice. She’s clearly a megalomaniac. Mason Quantrell is just greedy and jealous. A lethal combination.”
Sean put another log on the fire and drew closer to the flames. “Tell me about the bodies in the barn.”
Roy turned to him. “Why?”
“We’re investigators. Ted Bergin hired us to help you. That’s what we’re trying to do. In order to do that we need information. And this is the first real chance we’ve had with you.”
Roy took a moment to rub his glasses lenses clean on his shirt. He settled them back on and said, “I was taking a walk before dinner. I usually did that. I hadn’t been in the barn in a long time. It was just a whim I decided to go in. Everything looked the same until I spotted the disturbed dirt on one side. I grabbed a shovel and started digging, to see what was there. That’s when I saw the face. I was about to call the police when I heard the sirens. They arrested me. I can’t blame them, really. I had the shovel in my hand and the bodies were there. It must’ve looked like I was just burying them instead of trying to dig them up.”
“And that’s when you went into…?”
Roy looked embarrassed. “That’s when I retreated into my head, yes.”
“But you remember everything that went on?” asked Michelle.
“I never forget anything. I remember the first jail they put me in. Mr. Bergin coming to represent me. He tried very hard. There were times when I thought about talking to him, but I was just scared.” He paused. “I’m very sorry he’s dead. It was because of me, of course.”
“So Foster and Quantrell put the bodies there in order to frame you.”
Roy said, “I appreciate the presumption of innocence.”
“I never presume anything,” replied Sean. “But the timing of everything was too neat, too tidy. If I had to bet I’d say you were being watched, and as soon as you went in that barn, the cops got the call.”
Michelle added, “And what we know of you, you’re a little too smart to get caught red-handed by the local cops.”
Sean looked at Roy. “Okay, Quantrell and Foster framed you. They thought they were home free. Now they’ve been turned against each other. What will they do next?”
Roy didn’t hesitate. “Foster has no history of wrongdoing, while Quantrell’s reputation is far sketchier on that score. Other things being equal, Quantrell will react more calmly to the situation than Foster.”
“In other words, he’s used to stepping over the line,” said Michelle.
“Exactly. His innate reaction will be to survive this and perhaps even continue his business. Foster may very well lash out and let the chips fall. Or she might withdraw from the field and do nothing, hoping it goes away.”
“That option I doubt,” said Michelle. “You don’t get to be the head of DHS by being a wallflower, particularly a woman.”
“I agree with you,” said Roy. “Which means she will probably be very aggressive in trying to turn the situation around.”
“So she goes to her allies again, trying to shore up support,” said Sean. “And blacken the well against Quantrell?”
Roy nodded. “She has the advantage there. She can get a meeting with the president or the FBI director if she needs to. Quantrell can’t. He obviously knows this and will play to his strengths.”
“Which are?” asked Sean.
“Operations in the field. Foster never would have used DHS personnel for the murders or my extraction. But private mercenaries are far less picky. They pledge allegiance to whoever’s paying them.”
“So Quantrell will use his men to do what?” asked Michelle.
“Find me, kill Bunting and my sister. And if the need arises he may very well hit Foster.”
“Taking down the DHS head, pretty gutsy,” said Sean.
“When you have nothing to lose, it doesn’t take that much guts,” replied Roy. “And it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”
CHAPTER
77
ELLEN FOSTER SAT at her chair in the bunker underneath DHS headquarters. Above her thousands of public servants went about their tasks of keeping the country sa
fe from all attacks. Normally, Foster would be intimately involved in the strategy that went into this everyday battle. She lived and breathed it, thought of little else outside of it.
Right now she couldn’t have cared less about it.
James Harkes stood across from her at semi-attention.
She had confided in him what Kelly Paul had told her in that bathroom at Lincoln Center. He had asked a few relevant questions but remained mostly silent. She gazed up at him with the look of a person assessing her last, best hope.
“This changes everything. What can we do?” she asked.
“What do you want to achieve?”
“I want to survive, Harkes—isn’t that rather obvious?” she snapped.
“But there are many ways to survive, Madame Secretary. I just need to know which one you want to pursue.”
She blinked and saw what he meant. “I want to survive with my career intact, as though nothing had happened. That’s as plain as I can state it.”
He nodded slowly. “That will be very hard to do,” he said frankly.
Foster gave a little shiver and wrapped her arms around herself. “But not impossible?”
“No, not impossible.”
“Quantrell is trying to work a deal, rat me out, Kelly Paul said.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that, knowing what sort of person he is. But he has limited access to the people who matter. You don’t.”
“But the problem is I’ve already been to the president and built the case against Bunting. The president told me to take care of it. He gave me explicit authority to do whatever was necessary.”
“And to go back to him now with a new story about Quantrell would really make you lose credibility in the president’s eyes?”
“Exactly. I’ll be like the little boy who cried wolf once too often.”
“You may have answered your problem with what you’ve already said.”
She glanced sharply at him. “What do you mean?”
“The president gave you explicit authority to do what was necessary.”
“But Quantrell?”
“Collateral damage. And it’s not as difficult as it sounds. With Quantrell out of the way, your problems are solved. You have left nothing incriminating on the table. He goes, the road ahead is clear.”
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