by Stephen Frey
“Stop right where you are.” Webb’s voice turned unfriendly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“What?”
Webb sipped his coffee. “You can leave when I say you can leave. And not before.” He placed the cup down and smiled. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on those perfectly tapered legs. “Take your clothes off.”
It was her worst nightmare. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Mmm.” Webb took off his suit jacket as he stood. “Maybe.” For a split second his mind wandered to the other members of the inner circle; to his detachment of young military disciples at Area 51—led by Commander Pierce—who had instilled the fear of God and the devil in Captain Nichols; to his beautiful home on the lake in Georgia; and to his massive Swiss bank account. He had built an incredible life by doing just as he was doing now. Manipulating. Cornering people until they had no choice but to obey. Maybe he was a little insane. But no one could argue with his success. His focus snapped back to the woman. “Take your clothes off now. Don’t make me say it again.”
She held out her hands, palms up toward him. “You’re crazy. I’m out of here.”
“You go anywhere near that door and first thing tomorrow morning Malcolm Walker will be informed that you stole this memorandum and delivered it to unfriendly factions. He’ll be informed that you gave Captain Nichols’s name to Phil Rhodes as your boss’s contact at Area 51. And that you have accepted money in exchange for both the Cowen note and the information regarding the Air Force pilot. Finally, he will receive the pictures I believe were taken of you with a certain blond woman. Pictures Phil Rhodes and I have enjoyed reviewing several times already.” His eyes roamed her body again. “Oh, yes. The Post, the New York Times and Penthouse will also receive those photographs.” Webb smiled evilly. “Now, if you want to leave, you may.” He gestured toward the door.
Monique’s eyes filled with tears. The trap was closing in around her. “You wouldn’t.”
Webb laughed. “How long have you been in Washington, Monique? Almost six years, right? And you haven’t learned how the game is played yet? No wonder Senator Walker is lagging behind Elbridge Coleman in the polls. His damn chief of staff doesn’t understand the rules.” He moved behind Monique and rubbed her shoulders, then slowly began undoing the buttons down the back of her dress. “You know I wouldn’t hesitate to relay all of the information to Senator Walker and the press. And it’s not as if Phil Rhodes or I have done anything wrong. The axe will fall on your neck, not ours.”
“Please don’t,” she begged as he undid the last button.
But Webb paid no attention to the entreaty, sliding the dress off her arms and down her body until gravity pulled it to the floor. “God, you are beautiful.” Quickly he unhooked the bra and stripped it from her chest, then pulled the lace panties down her legs until they too fell to the floor. “Come with me.” He took her wrist roughly and led her to the king-size bed. “Kneel down on the floor and lean over the bed.”
Monique obeyed dutifully. She had no doubt Webb would follow through on his threats, and she could not have Malcolm finding out what she had done. That was the bottom line. So now she would pay for her moment of weakness.
“Good girl.” Webb stripped off his clothes quickly and knelt behind her. God, it was an aphrodisiac to have this much power over someone. To have someone respond to your every command exactly. It was all about the money to a point, and then when you had enough, money became pointless and power became the only thing. The power to make people do what they didn’t want to do. The power to force them to please you. He couldn’t remember being so aroused before in his life.
He had never used his position on the Hill to curry female favors. He didn’t want anything out there anyone could use against him. But now he was in his last term, and it no longer mattered as much.
As he entered Monique he suddenly knew there would be many more times. It was like the laboratory rat exposed and instantly addicted to liquid cocaine, his mentor had explained to Webb long ago during Webb’s first term. You’ll know it’s dangerous, but once you give in to the temptation you’ll need it as much as the air you breathe or the food you eat. And the mentor hadn’t meant simply the physical act of sex. It was the power and domination that made it so exhilarating. There could be no substitute for power. Nothing else that could make you feel so alive. Nothing that could make the blood pound so ferociously.
Chapter 25
First Maryland Trust’s nineteenth-floor lobby was sparsely decorated and the furniture worn and out of date. This was a back-office floor of the state’s largest bank, an operations area not often graced by high-powered visitors, so the bank’s executives did not spend generously on accouterments here.
“May I get you anything while you wait?” The receptionist smacked gum as he talked.
“No thanks,” David answered. It was funny how people always spent money to impress people they didn’t know, he thought to himself as he stretched in the uncomfortable chair. Lobbies outside the offices of the professional staff were probably decorated with expensive antiques and tasteful paintings. But the back-office people—the backbone of the entity—who kept money flowing in and out on a daily basis were greeted every morning by peeling gray wallpaper, metal furniture, and a receptionist who smacked gum. There was a lesson to be learned here, but he was too tired to think about it.
“How’s the weather out there this afternoon?”
Great. A chatty receptionist. “Hot and humid.” He kept the response brief, hoping the man would get the message.
“It’s really August weather for Baltimore. Usually by this time in September we don’t get days like this.”
“Uh huh.”
“David!”
Johnny Antolini was coming through the swinging door leading to the back offices. David rose from the chair and met Johnny in front of the receptionist’s desk.
“How the hell are you, David?” Johnny asked as he pumped David’s hand.
“Good.” Johnny had been David’s best friend in high school, and though they had drifted apart as their careers diverged, they had managed to maintain at least sporadic contact. “You saved me,” David said quietly, motioning toward the receptionist.
“Oh, you mean Chuckie?” Johnny asked loudly, pointing a thumb at the young man, who was still smacking his gum loudly.
David brought a finger to his lips subtly.
But Johnny was not to be deterred. He turned toward the gum smacker quickly. “Yo, Chuckie. You can’t be harassing our guests here. We don’t get too many of them anyway. Leave them alone, will you? Don’t talk so much.”
Chuckie looked up unhappily as David cringed. Johnny hadn’t changed at all. He was still as direct as ever.
“Just kidding you, Chuckie boy.” Johnny reached over the desk and slapped the young man hard on the back. “Come on, David, let’s go.” Johnny pushed through the door to the back offices and led David through a maze of desks to one in the middle of the floor. “Have a seat, buddy.” He pointed at a chair beside the metal desk.
Several other employees sat very close to Johnny’s space. He and Johnny would enjoy little privacy here, David saw. “Could we use a conference room?”
Johnny laughed. He moved to an older woman sitting at the desk next to his and put a large hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got no secrets here.”
“I’m serious.”
Johnny detected a tiny trace of fear in David’s expression, and the thought crossed Johnny’s mind that perhaps he shouldn’t have been so eager to help his old friend after all. “Okay.” He led David through the maze once again to a small room at the side of the central space and closed the door when they were both inside. “This better?”
“Much.”
“Well, have a seat.”
“Thanks.” David sat down in a spindly chair. Its cushion was worn to the metal on one side.
“So how are things at the finger-food firm of Sagamore Investment Management, or whateve
r the hell it’s called?”
“Good. Well, okay.”
“What’s the problem, David?” Johnny became serious. He had sensed that there was something wrong with his old friend even as they had shaken hands in the lobby. He wasn’t going to kid around anymore.
“I’m not exactly sure.” A strange look came to David’s face. “I need your help to figure that out.”
Johnny folded his hands on the veneer table. “Always at your service, Señor Mitchell. Always here to help.”
That was true. Johnny had pulled David out of more than a few scrapes in high school. David hesitated. This was difficult.
“Come on, out with it.” Johnny checked his watch. “No offense, rich boy, but it’s almost five o’clock. You might burn the midnight oil out at that blue-blood firm of yours, but those of us who toil in the funds transfer area of First Maryland Trust leave exactly at five when we arrive at nine in the morning. Especially when we have a softball game at six.”
David held up a hand. “Okay, I get the message. Look, I need you to track down an account for me.”
“Be more specific.”
David hesitated again.
Johnny raised an eyebrow. He had known David too long to miss the signs. “There must be something very wrong.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re having a real hard time getting this out. And you look like dogshit. Should I go on?” Johnny asked.
“No.” By actually asking for help, David would be verbalizing his suspicions for the first time, and they would suddenly become more real as a result. He was about to take all of this to a new level. All he could hope for was that he was wrong. “Johnny, I need to know the name on an account. All I have is the account number.”
“And let me guess,” Johnny said. “The account is located in Switzerland or the Caymans.”
“Yeah.”
“Those places don’t give up information like that easily. For good reasons. You know that.”
“I know. I just thought you might be able to help.”
“Are you in trouble, David?”
If his suspicions were correct, he was in a great deal of trouble. “I hope not.”
Jesse waved as David entered the bar. She noticed several women interrupt conversations to give him the once-over as he pushed through the crowd. He was attractive, and she suddenly realized that she had been thinking about him more than a few times a day now.
“Hello there.” David bent down and kissed her cheek gently as he reached her bar stool. “How are you?”
A kiss on the cheek had become their customary greeting and good-bye, and she liked it. “Great. How about you?”
“Fine.” Bodies were stacked four deep waiting to be served at the bar. “Why don’t we get out of this traffic jam?”
“Okay.”
He took her hand and led her through the crowd to an open table at the back of the establishment. “This is much better.” He held her chair, then took off his suit coat, draped it over the back of his chair, and sat down. “What do you want?”
“Now there’s a loaded question.” She smiled and eyed him up and down seductively, before she burst out laughing.
“I meant to drink.” He laughed, dropping heavily into his seat, as if it had been a very difficult day. “But I liked the look I just got.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” she cautioned.
“You know, you’re starting to intrigue me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I think you’re this innocent, naive woman and then I see you do something like that.” He leaned over the table toward her, placing his elbows on the table. “It makes me wonder.”
“Oh, please.” She shoved one elbow out from under him playfully.
“So what do you want?”
“Diet Coke is fine.”
He gave her a disappointed look. “Have a beer with me, Jesse.”
“I can’t. I have school tonight.”
“Do you have an exam or something?”
“No, just class.”
“Have just one beer then.”
She smiled. “You’re terrible.”
“The devil. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Jesse ignored him. “I really shouldn’t, but okay, I’ll have a beer. Just one, though.” She held up her forefinger.
“Good.” Satisfied with his small victory, David turned and motioned to the waitress for the two beers. “How was your day?” he asked.
“Fine. One strange thing happened, or I guess didn’t happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“A woman I work with, Sara Adams, didn’t show up at the branch today.”
“Why is that strange?”
“We’re pretty good friends. She usually tells me if she’s taking a day off and who she’s going to be with if she does. I do the same with her. It’s kind of a buddy system.”
“Did you call her at home?”
“Yes, but there wasn’t any answer.” Jesse was more worried than she was letting on, but there was no reason to bother David with Sara’s unexplained absence. He looked worn out. “It’s probably nothing. How was your day? You look a little tired.”
“Fine.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Finally she could no longer contain her curiousity. “So tell me about yourself.”
“What?”
“I want to know about you. Every time I ask, you give some short answer, then turn the focus of the conversation back on me. I have to admit it’s nice to find someone who does that, who doesn’t want to talk just about himself, but now I want some answers about you.”
David shrugged. “There isn’t much to know.”
“Tell me anyway. Tell me about where you grew up, your family, the schools you attended. All the normal stuff.”
“Sounds like an interrogation.”
The waitress served the beers. As she walked away, Jesse slid her hand across the table and touched David’s arm gently. “I’m serious. Talk to me. You never do. It occurred to me that we spent all day together last Saturday on the sailboat and I really don’t know anything about you.”
“Cheers.” He tapped his glass to hers and drank.
She shook her head. “No. That’s another diversion. I’m putting my foot down. Talk to me. I won’t take a sip until you start talking.”
“Okay.” But still he remained silent.
This was getting ridiculous. “Let’s try something easy. Where did you go to college? Wait, let me guess. Princeton, Harvard, Yale?”
There would be no more dodging the issue. That was clear. “Cecil County Community College,” he said quietly.
“You just aren’t going to give me a straight answer, are you?”
He had anticipated this. She was going to be very disappointed. Her image of him was about to shatter. “That’s as straight as it gets. I’m not kidding.”
He was telling her the truth, she suddenly realized. “You’re serious.”
He nodded.
“But you said you went to an Ivy League school.”
“No, you said that, Jesse. I just didn’t bother to correct you.”
“Where did you grow up?”
David pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Right here in the city. In Glen Owens, the Hell’s Kitchen of Baltimore. You’re from this area. You know what Glen Owens is like. It was the same way when I was growing up.” He dropped the pack on the table and pushed it toward her. “Want one?”
“No thanks. I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Do you mind? I’ll stop if it bothers you.”
“No, it’s fine. My dad smoked. I don’t mind.”
A woman at the bar had been watching David’s every move, and he finally acknowledged her interest with a subtle smile. Might as well, he thought to himself. The prospects of seeing Jesse on a social basis had just dimmed considerably. “So now you know. I’m just a poor boy with no heritage.”
“Is tha
t why you wouldn’t tell me about yourself?”
“We’re all supposed to be the Third or named Rockefeller out at Sagamore. And except for me, we are. I’m the black sheep of the group. I figured if you knew, you might not be interested.”
“You must not think much of me.”
“Well, I’ve been dropping pretty big hints about how I’d like to see you socially, and you haven’t accepted. I assumed that if you knew about my background, that would be just another reason not to go out with me.”
“You know why I’m uncomfortable about going out with you.” Jesse had seen the look David had given the woman at the bar, and to her surprise she had felt a twinge of jealousy. “I don’t want Elizabeth to get the wrong idea.”
“I understand. By the way, did she call you?”
“Yes. I’m coming out to Sagamore Thursday evening for final interviews. She gave me the list of people I’m seeing, and I would like to talk about them with you at some point.”
“I told you, I’d be happy to do that.”
“Thanks.” Jesse gave the woman at the bar a curt hands-off glare. “But let’s do that later. I want to talk more about you. I’m just curious. How do you get from Cecil County Community College to Sagamore? No offense, but I can’t imagine Sagamore recruits heavily at Cecil.”
David laughed loudly, suddenly relieved to have finally told her. “Well, I got an operations job at a bank in town after Cecil Community College through a friend of mine. I talked my way into the executive training program there, then talked my way into the University of Virginia business school, then talked my way into Sagamore.”
“You must have been a good talker.”
“I had to be. I was wearing polyester and leather until a couple of guys in the bank training program took me out and introduced me to wool and cotton.” He still had one of those polyester suits hanging in his closet as a reminder of where he had come from. As a reminder that every day he had to work harder than the rest because he had started at the back of the pack. “That little shopping spree was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life, and one of the most valuable.”
“David, you must have done very well at Virginia for Sagamore to take an interest. I mean, it’s a great school, but it isn’t Ivy League.”
