Back in the living room Alta mixed a drink. She was barefoot now and looked about 16 years old. "Scotch? Bourbon? Brandy?"
Powers started to say nothing but changed his mind. One drink would help with the pain he knew was coming. "A small brandy. I'm going to catch a bit of sleep then get a fresh start early. There isn't much time. I have a question for you though."
"Shoot," she said licking her lips after her first taste of liquor. She poured his drink.
"Do you have any idea who those men were?"
She shook her head. "None. They scared me to death. I've never been attacked before." She looked up at him. "It's the first time I ever saw anyone killed. I was looking right at him when the bullets struck. He was dead, wasn't he?"
"Yes."
"Why did they take the body?"
"Cleaning up. It was certainly efficient, almost as if they expected something like that to happen. Who else do you think has an interest in what I'm up to?"
Alta laughed sardonically. "I'm sorry to say almost anyone, Dan. I think what just happened proves that, doesn't it? You never know. We've tried to be careful but nothing is perfect."
"Have you come up with anything left out of my briefing earlier?" He took the offered glass and downed his brandy in a single gulp.
Alta sat on the couch and he joined her. "Nothing. There's always something going on, but I can't think of a thing that might be connected to this. If there is something we find out later, please don't think I held out on you. I'm doing my best. Just remember. This is Washington. No one person in this city ever knows all there is about anything."
She handed him the remote control for the television and VCR. "Since you insisted, I've got some bedtime viewing for you. I've already loaded the tape. I might have to go into another room while you do this. Or maybe I'll just sit here and get pie eyed."
"Where was the tape?"
She turned sheepish. "In my purse. I know. You don't have to say it. It was stupid of me, but I didn't know what to do with it, and I felt safer having it with me. Can you imagine those men getting it tonight?" She was more amused than fearful of the prospect.
Powers pointed the remote and began the program. He eased back into the couch.
Technically there wasn't much to learn. It was a color recording and the President with his mistress had been taped in Marei's bedroom. The distinctive Louis XIV nightstand was visible throughout. The light had been dim but the aperture of the camcorder had opened so viewing was good, better than average, even for an amateur production.
Powers' first reaction was entirely masculine. Julie Marei was a very beautiful woman. Her breasts were smaller than American taste generally ran but her body consisted of a tantalizing symmetry that called to mind Greek statues. Her nearly black hair was thick and hung below her shoulders, and she had shaved her pubic area into a single narrow slit. She was almost girlish in manner and completely subservient to Tufts.
The President lost a lot without his suit and power tie. At times his pasty skin dominated the screen with an unappetizing expanse. Marei was obviously not comfortable with being taped and occasionally glanced apprehensively at the camcorder. Tufts moved her occasionally and complained once that she was blocking the recorder's view. Every few minutes he grinned into the lens and said, "Fuck you!" The man was drunk.
So much for surreptitious taping. The President had known and approved of it.
The sex was nothing exotic. The only part Powers found unusual was Tufts protracted delivery of cunnilingus and Marei's enthusiastic response. Then she was on top of him for a time, then he on her.
During the show Alta continued with her drink, taking a tiny sip every 60 seconds. Once she refilled her glass. At this rate, he thought, she'd pass out in half an hour. That didn't sound like such a bad idea now that he thought about it and poured himself a second brandy while the President caught his breath.
The couple on television was smoking marijuana when he sat down and having a very good time with it. Marei rolled the joints sitting Indian fashion on the bed and the President downed them nearly as fast as they were handed over. She complained he'd use all the grass himself and they both giggled about that.
"She-it!" the President said at one point, "I wish the fuck we had us some snow."
After the dope was time for fellatio at which Marie proved particularly adept. As the President moaned like a porn star, Alta shot up from the couch and rushed to the kitchen sink where Powers heard her heaving. By the time she had cleaned up, brushed and gargled, he had listened to a small portion of Tufts' diatribe against his political allies then fast forwarded through the remainder of the tape.
He handed it back when Alta returned clutching another fresh glass of scotch with both tiny hands. "Here. I've seen enough for my purposes. You'll want to find a safer place for it."
She took the tape. "Not very lady like, was it?"
"Quite the contrary. Are you all right?"
“I think so. I just couldn't stand..."
"I know."
"Doesn't he realize who he is? He acts like he's in a college fraternity or something. I don't know why it should but it makes me feel so humiliated."
"I had much the same reaction."
She sipped her drink. "Did you find what you were after?"
"It answered a few questions."
"I don't ever want to see that thing again." She took another sip as she settled more comfortably into the couch. "I shouldn't be drinking so much. It goes right to my head. But if I don't unwind I'm going to start screaming. I don't know how you do it."
"Do what?"
"Remain so cool all the time."
Powers smiled. "Not always. You saw me scrambling away from that guy tonight."
“I thought you handled it very well." Alta gazed at him intently then sighed. "Has anyone lately told you what an attractive man you are? You could have been a model or an actor. You aren't at all what I expected when Mrs. Tufts told me she was bringing in a former detective from St. Louis. I could see this middle aged guy, balding, big gut, crude manner, calling everyone 'babe' and smelling of the cheap whiskey he swilled from a flask in his pocket." She giggled then took another of her dainty but increasingly frequent sips. She licked her fleshy lips again then removed her glasses. "I'm blind as a bat without my glasses. That's how much I trust you. I never take them off unless I'm alone. Would you hold me please? I'm getting all shaky." He slipped his arms around her and felt her shudder as if she had a chill. After several minutes the shaking passed and by then he realized she was embracing him as well.
Alta looked up at him sleepily. He leaned forward and kissed her, wondering for only an instant where that came from. Her warm mouth tasted of scotch.
Alta's spoke with her lips still against his. "I know you haven't much time," she whispered. "I think you should just take me into the bedroom right now."
Her body was surprisingly ample, and later, when she came, she moaned from deep inside, a sound that could have meant either ecstasy or profound pain.
The White House, 1:47 a.m.
The First Lady drew a cigarette from her pack in the dark, the flame lighting her face momentarily. Her lipstick was smeared and her hair was eschew. Her first inhale was sensuous in its length and manner. "Oh God, that feels good. I don't know if I enjoy the orgasm better or the cigarette after."
Martin Karp was still breathing hard as he straightened himself in her bed. "That doesn't say much for me, does it?" He reached for his drink.
She patted his arm. "You do just fine. No complaints here." She took another drag then said, "What did you talk to Dick about earlier?"
"I told him what Powers found."
"How'd he take it?"
"Badly. He had one of those 'I'm oh so sorry for myself' tantrums. When I left he actually told me it was too bad Marei is dead. He felt like a little action with her."
"The prick! Anything else?"
“Nothing significant."
"How did Danny seem when
you spoke to him?"
"In control, but I think I threw him a few curves. Shanken's keeping a close handle on him along with that Lily." Karp settled himself more comfortably. “How certain are you about Powers?”
“Dick asked me the same question. I’m certain. Why?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t read him clearly. He was cool, almost serene. It wasn’t normal.”
“He’s been through a lot lately. I know Danny as well as I know anyone on earth. I understand what makes him tick, I know what he wants, and most of all, I know he’ll do almost anything for me. Stop worrying. What I’m asking, is if you think he’ll find her? I'm about to fall apart here."
Karp shrugged. "I can’t say for certain. I kept him focused on the woman. That's the main thing here, isn't it?" He finished his scotch.
"You’re annoying when you state the obvious. Getting the tapes would be nice too."
Karp took his time lighting one of his slender cigarettes. "Someone tried to kill this Powers of yours tonight. Lily saved him. We don't know who the men worked for yet but they were definitely Arabs."
"Is he all right? Can he still do the job?"
"He's fine. If anything he’ll pick up the pace."
She took time to smoke before asking. "Who do you think it could have been?"
"I don't want to speculate. We knew there was a risk he'd attract attention. We factored that in.”
"You’re doing it again, Marty.” She sighed. “God, I'm a wreck." Becky Tufts poked out her cigarette. She moved against Karp and he put his arm about her still holding his cigarette. "I wish this was over," she said wistfully.
"Very soon now," he said soothingly.
"I get so scared. I sit in my office and think about that asshole special prosecutor, Rampel. The court’s going to rule on his subpoena any day. What am I going to do if he indicts me?"
"We were careful at the time, don’t forget that and we've got a strategy that's discrediting him. I don't think he'll have the nerve. Anyway, you're the First Lady. Nothing will happen to you. It will be hard if it comes to that, but you'll come out all right."
"I wish I could be sure. God I hate playing the martyr. It makes me feel nauseous. You know what I think? This damn country enjoys building people up just so the masses can have the pleasure of tearing them down. They are a bunch of idiots. All of them." After a while she shuddered then said, "I feel like I'm on a tightrope. One misstep and I'm finished."
"It will work. Believe me. It's perfect."
"I just wish..."
"What?"
"I don't know. I just wish it didn't have to be him, that's all."
MONDAY, August 13
United Wire Service, New York, N.Y.
FLASH FLASH FLASH
Former President Jimmy Carter will address the Democratic National Convention in New York City tonight. He will be followed by Senate Minority Leader, Russell Owens. While Carter will speak on traditional Democratic themes and values, Owens is expected to launch a blistering attack on the Republican presidential nominee, Virginia Congressman Hugh Guthers. The First Lady, Rebecca Gordon Tufts, will be the keynote speaker at tomorrow night's gathering.
MORE TO FOLLOW....
NINE
Cleveland Park, 7:17 a.m.
It had been an early winter in St. Louis the previous year. By October an icy wind blew from Canada through the Mississippi River Valley, portending a long, bone-numbing five months. The days were divided between freezing rain or wet snow.
Four months earlier Powers was wrapping up the final report for a joint city, state and federal task force on which he had spent three years, given the benign name of Operation Petal. During his review of wiretap summaries by the various law enforcement agencies he noticed that several close associates of the vice mayor participated in telephone calls to crime targets. Powers reported his observation directly to the chief of police, who, in turn, met with the mayor who expressed his own suspicions concerning his esteemed colleague. Powers was directed to personally read every transcript of the taps or listen to the tapes, if they had not been transcribed, and report his findings orally to the chief and mayor.
Powers had been assigned a small office in the basement of the courthouse and, since he was already there, was also given the court detail. This meant he tracked high profile prosecutions and those pending from Petal’s local indictments to make certain the evidence and officers needed for court were where they were supposed to be.
After three years of field work out-of-state, Powers welcomed the change of pace. His son, Brian, named for his wife's father, was soon to be ten years old and Powers was especially glad to have regular hours since his wife, Gloria, still worked as a nurse and occasionally pulled the swing shift. But, both of them were usually home in the evenings, and for the first time since his son had been born, Powers felt as if he was part of a real family. He completed his review by the end of summer and delivered the report, after which the chief advised the mayor to ask the feds to open an official investigation.
That freezing October night, Powers took the call at court. A rookie cop had stumbled on a Russian mob protection shakedown and done an exceptional job. When the muscle he’d arrested was convicted, the prosecutor was confident they’d role over on their higher ups, men already under indictment from Petal. This case would seal their fate. Though the jury was expected to deliver a quick verdict, the rookie cop was nervous about the outcome, so Powers had called home and told Gloria he'd be late. He was standing by to hold the cop's hand in case the verdict went against him.
The jury was filing in when Power's received word that his house was on fire. He raced across the city's slippery streets in his unmarked car, but by the time he arrived the flames had reached their peak. In the driving sleet, his home was a surreal mass of fire and smoke. A narrow funnel of flame gathered over the house then rose more than a hundred feet into the night. The firefighters were by now attempting to save his neighbor's houses and not having much luck.
Fire Chief Clarence Bayless spotted Powers and hurried over, weighted down with his heavy turnouts. There was soot covering his face and he smelled of charcoal. "Easy, Danny. Take it easy, son." He was a powerfully built man with heavy dark features. Powers could see the pain in the man's eyes.
"Where's Gloria? My son?"
"We got here fast but the place went up like a struck match. Neighbors said they saw movement inside so we went after 'em. I was in there three times, Danny. I got one firefighter I drug out, in the hospital. It's not looking good for him. We knew it was your place, Danny. We knew, but there was nothing we could do, son. It was too late by the time we got here."
"What are you saying? Where is my family?"
Bayless was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry. I wish the hell I didn't have to be the one to tell you. They didn't make it. They just didn't make it."
The house burned until three in the morning and by then the sleet had turned to wet snow. Mrs. Atkinson who lived across the street had taken Powers in but he had been unable to remain indoors and stood on her porch watching his house. As the fire crew gathered its gear and rolled hoses, Chief Bayless approached Powers. He collapsed on the steps, his features drawn in anguish. "You remember Bobby Murphy?" he said after drawing several deep breaths.
"Sure, Chief. The redhead kid. Freckles."
"That's the one. I just got word that he died at hospital. I never should've let him go in alone that last time. It's my fault."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah. We all are. You'll be wanting to know what happened. The arson investigator's on it now but he won't learn anything more than what I can tell you. Here's the way I make it, then I've got to get outta here. I'm too old for this shit. About eleven o’clock, I'd say someone spread gasoline around your house then used two-by-fours to block the doors closed. They lit from at least two places at the same time so I make it as two perps. By the time Gloria woke up the house was surrounded in flames. She never got off the second floor."
/>
"You're certain they're in there?"
The look Bayless gave was world weary. "Yeah, Danny, I'm sure. I saw the bodies myself not ten minutes ago. She was holding Brian when they died. I know it's no consolation but it was the carbon monoxide and smoke that got 'em. They were gone before the flames reached the middle of the house." With some effort Bayless stood up. "Now I've got to see Bobby's widow and break the news to her. I'm putting in for my time. I can't take this anymore. Don't go crazy, Danny. Gloria still loves you and wants you to have a good life. You'll be with her again soon enough. You call if you need anything."
In 23 years as a cop Powers had made several thousand arrests, seen hundreds prosecuted, sent his share to prison and received his measure of threats. In all that effort were dozens of men who could have done this, but he had no doubt where this had come from. It was an act of revenge from an imprisoned dying Russian mobster. The arson investigation led nowhere but by then Powers was retired. He didn’t care if the men who’d set the match were caught or not.
He ignored several job offers and instead moved back to Shalom the afternoon of the funeral. His parents were dead and as the only child he'd inherited their house near the center of town, the one they bought after selling the garage. The fire had taken not just the lives of the two people in the world he loved but also everything else he owned. The blue Brooks Brothers suit he'd been wearing in court that day and a tan raincoat he'd left at the office were all that remained. The only photographs of his family that survived were those in his wallet and on display in his parent's house.
Powers had been emotionally numb and withdrawn since the death of his family. He had no idea what he was going to do with his life. In fact, he could not bear the idea of continuing alone. He spent the rest of that winter ignoring entreaties to join this or that agency, consumed with remodeling the interior of the house, and the next summer with nailing on a new roof. He was rebuilding his '56 Chevy, which his dad had kept stored all those years in the shed in back of the house, when Becky Gordon's telephone call had summoned him to Washington.
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