by Allan Topol
“Absolutely.”
Then Paul, who always liked long shots, decided to try one with this gorgeous woman who was also smart and savvy. “What are you doing this evening?”
“Having dinner with you. Tell me where and when.”
He couldn’t believe it.
“Eight o’clock at Tosca.”
“Good. I like Tosca. I’ll be there.”
Leaving her office, he had second thoughts. He was just a nerdy lawyer. Was she too much for him? A little voice, deep inside, said, “You’re going to get hurt.”
He ignored that voice. That evening, Paul had a fabulous meal, including great wine because, thanks to dinners he’d had with Martin on business trips, he had learned quite a bit about French and Italian reds. But even more than this, he later had the most incredible sex of his life. When he left Vanessa’s DuPont Circle apartment at one thirty in the morning, he thought his dick would fall off.
He was wildly in love with her. They dated for about six months. She refused to move in with him, but they saw each other most weekends and traveled to Cannes and Paris, where she knew all the best places.
Then one day, without any warning, she broke it off with him.
“You’re intelligent, fun to be with, and the nicest man I ever met, Paul, but I don’t want to marry you. It’s gotten too serious.”
“Don’t you ever want to get married?”
“I’m looking for something different.”
“You mean a powerful Washington figure. Not an associate, or even a junior partner, in a law firm? No house in Bethesda with a white picket fence?”
“That’s right. Let’s go out to dinner, come back to my bedroom for one more fling, and part as friends.”
Paul realized that arguing with her was hopeless. After that evening, he never saw her again.
Now she was dead. The only woman he’d ever loved.
He recalled that once when he was dating Vanessa he had met her twin sister, Allison, who was visiting her in Washington. The three of them had dinner together. He was amazed at how different the twins were.
He had to call Allison and tell her how sorry he was. He realized that he had Vanessa’s parents’ phone number in his contacts. She had called him from Oxford once when she was visiting there.
A woman answered, who called Allison to the phone.
“This is Paul Maltoni in Washington. Hopefully, you remember me. I had dinner with you and Vanessa a year or so ago.”
“Sure. I remember.”
“I read about Vanessa, and I wanted to tell you how sorry …”
“Oh, Paul, I can’t believe it.”
She began crying.
“What? What happened?”
“She drowned Sunday night … I got a call in Israel that she drowned in Anguilla.”
“But she was such a good swimmer.”
“Oh, Paul, it’s awful. I’m back in Oxford.”
He’d never heard anyone sound so lonely and sad.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“The funeral’s tomorrow.”
He made a snap decision. “I’d like to come. To be there for you. And to say goodbye.”
“Oh, Paul. Would you?”
“Just tell me where and when.”
“It’ll be a graveside ceremony at ten in the morning in Oxford at 6200 Adams Road.”
“I’ll be there.”
In a daze, Paul put down the phone. Beautiful Vanessa, gone. Drowned. He thought about his time with her at Rancho Valencia, north of La Jolla. She’d insisted on swimming in the Pacific. He’d never known such a good swimmer. How could she have drowned? Besides, if he didn’t go to the funeral, he’d never believe she had died.
* * *
Martin stared across the dining room table at Jasper, who was pushing around the grilled salmon and butternut squash on his plate, and eating very little. On the other hand, he was hitting the sauce pretty hard. Jasper had two double scotches before dinner and three glasses of wine through the mushroom soup and main course. Martin had sipped only a little wine. He wanted to be stone sober when they talked about Anguilla. Jasper didn’t usually drink this much. Martin was worried he was spinning out of control.
Still, Martin had to make sure to be alone with Jasper when they discussed Anguilla. So he confined their discussion to football and the stock market until they were finishing the salmon and he heard Isabella call from the kitchen. “Good night, Mr. Martin.”
He heard the back door close. Time to get serious.
“Listen, Wes. I’ve been thinking about Sunday night.”
Jasper drained the wine in his glass. “Send the bottle down here,” he said, slurring his words.
“I don’t think so. We have to talk.”
He watched Jasper tense up, put down his fork, and clutch the arms of the chair. “Andrew, I’m sorry for involving you. But I had absolutely no choice. You know that movie with Glenn Close? Where she cooked the kid’s rabbit?”
“Fatal Attraction.”
“Yeah. I felt like that guy.”
“What happened?”
“Saturday, Vanessa was fine. We had a great time. Sunday too, during the day. Then in the evening, I don’t know what it was. Maybe all the wine. But she decided to snort coke on the beach.”
Jesus. This gets worse, Martin thought. She must’ve kept the stuff in his house. “Did you do that too?”
Jasper shook his head. “Shit no. Anyhow, she got crazy after that. Taking off her bathing suit and running into the ocean. I tried stopping her, holding her, but she pulled away. I had to chase after her. When she started floundering, I tried my Red Cross lifesaving, but I kept going under, swallowed a ton of water, almost drowned myself, but somehow managed to get her on the beach. Probably should have left her in the deep. Then we wouldn’t have this mess.”
“I’ve thought about this a lot,” Martin said somberly. “And I’m convinced I made a terrible mistake. Did you a disservice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I should have insisted you call the police.”
“You sure tried. But, it’s too late now.”
“I don’t think so. We can get on a plane first thing tomorrow. I know Dorsey, the governor. We’ll tell him what happened. And he’ll correct the records. Real simple and easy.”
Jasper now was sitting up ramrod straight. “But these so-called corrected records will show that the girl was with me on the beach. That the two of us were staying in your house.”
“Yeah. The truth.”
“No, no.” Jasper shook his head. “You might as well be putting a bullet in my brain.”
“Sure, the Governor will know. But he’ll keep it quiet.”
“Are you kidding? Once they learn a US Senator was involved, it’ll be too big not to spill right out. ‘WOMAN DIES DURING TRYST WITH SENATOR.’ You’ve seen it every year. ‘STRIPPER WITH CONGRESSMAN GOES INTO TIDAL BASIN.’ ‘SENATOR NABBED IN MEN’S ROOM STING.’”
Jasper tapped his fork on the table. “You know how that press crap goes.” Jasper was almost yelling. “And you know damn well, Linda hates this town. She’ll toss my ass out of the house. Forget our twenty-seven years together. Call the Denver Post. My senate seat goes right down the tubes.”
Martin felt stymied. Hell, he had just as much riding on this. Somehow he had to turn Jasper around. “Listen to me, Wes, no one from Dorsey on down will want that publicity. Anguilla lives on tourism. You think they want people hearing their beaches are fatal?” Martin shook his head. “No way. They’ll change the records. That’ll be the end of it.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“Of course not.”
“Well, then I can’t take the chance.”
“If you don’t do this, you’re exposing yourself to a much greater risk. Someone else may discover it. And you know damn well the cover-up can be a hellu’va lot worse than the deed.”
“Who? Who could discover it?”
“I don’t kn
ow. But these things happen. A friend, a relative?”
Was Jasper even listening?
“We’ve been friends since college,” Jasper’s voice was cracking. “Now I’m pleading with you to help me. You don’t know Linda. She can be vindictive. She’ll go to the media. Get a sharp divorce lawyer. Clean me out.”
Jasper lifted his glass, realized it was empty and put it back down. “Do you know how hard it is living on a senator’s salary? Three houses. All heavily mortgaged.” He seemed about to break down and cry.
Martin wanted to say, “You should have thought about these things before you flew off with this babe.” But he needed to sound understanding. “Believe me, nobody’s life will be destroyed. This is the only way to minimize the risk to both of us.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
Jasper now began crying. “My marriage is already shaky.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Jasper held up two fingers. “Two indiscretions. Dumbass mistakes. They meant nothing. But Linda found out. She’s fixed on the three strike rule. One more and …” He sobbed. “And I’m out.”
Martin realized he had now lost all sympathy for Jasper. But he had to stay focused and not tell the man he was a fool. Martin could go down to Anguilla alone, he thought. But he had no first-hand knowledge. Without Jasper there, Dorsey could become prickly, convene a formal inquiry, and haul Jasper down to testify. Then the media circus would ensue. And goodbye chief justice. Seeing Jasper fall apart, crying like a baby, Martin now knew he’d never persuade him.
Minutes later, Jasper was putting on his coat. At the door, he said, “I really appreciate your help and support, Andrew. You’re a true friend in my time of need.”
Alone, disgusted with the man, he poured himself an Armagnac. The idiot. He’d had enough forever of how they’d been friends since college. Some great friend, dragging him into this. Jasper could have taken the girl to a hotel and done anything he wanted with her there. He kicked the leg of the table so hard that his foot hurt.
Martin thought about how much he had at stake. There was more than the Supreme Court at risk. If the story broke in the press, he feared the impact on his life and career would be devastating. His mind flashed to Burke Marshall, a prominent lawyer and considered a possible Supreme Court nominee, who made a late night call to help Ted Kennedy avoid the consequences of another young woman’s drowning in Chappaquiddick. That call ended Burke’s tenure as a major company’s General Counsel.
Martin couldn’t let this destroy him. He had to try to forget about Anguilla and the Supreme Court for a little while, Martin thought, or he’d go crazy. His knee was stiff from sitting so long. He limped to the back door and looked outside. Clouds had broken up. The sky was clear.
He took the Televue NP101 refractor telescope and the mount from the closet in his study and carried them out to a concrete pad in the backyard. While he set up, he recalled his law school roommate Steve had gotten him hooked on astronomy and stargazing. He’d been blown away by the dazzling lights the first time he looked through a telescope. And the concept that he was looking at objects hundreds of millions of light years away was mind-numbing, the immensity of the universe serving to place daily travails into perspective. Martin loved the challenge of finding some of those objects.
This evening, sitting for stability, he wanted to bring into focus the brilliance of the Trapezium star cluster. First Orion. He had it. And Orion’s Belt. Great. He adjusted the telescope and moved south and east. Ah, he had it, he thought with pride. The nebulosity. Now he could see all four stars, moving fairly quickly at the high magnification through the field of view, while he nudged the scope from time to time to follow them. But he couldn’t find the fainter E and F stars. With this telescope, he’d never seen them. Maybe tonight he would. He refocused, straining his eyes. No luck. They were there, but not visible. They were just beyond his grasp. Would it be the same with the Supreme Court?
He felt a hand massaging the back of his neck. He whirled around to see Francis.
“Hey, Galileo. I’m home.”
“Sorry. I didn’t even hear you come out. You want to see something incredible?”
“No. I want to know what happened with Jasper.”
Reality had come crashing back with a vengeance.
“He refused to budge. He was pathetic, in tears, Linda’s already caught him screwing around twice.”
She shook her head. “It’s the air up on Capitol Hill. First their brains fill with hubris. Then it goes to their dicks.”
“Good, Francis, tell it like it is.” Martin felt a release from the awful tension.
“And the Supreme Court’s up on Capitol Hill. So don’t you get any ideas.”
“Who has time?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I thought about flying down alone and rejected it.”
“You’re right. With Wes so scared, he’ll turn on you. Make it look like it’s all your doing.”
Her words jolted him. Yes, he was the one who had engineered the cover up.
“You’ll have to leave it alone, Andrew. Hope everybody else does.”
Beijing
As soon as Xiang stepped off the plane at Beijing airport, two members of the Ministry of State Security whisked him through back corridors of the terminal, flashing their badges, circumventing security and passport control. A large black Chinese-made sedan with tinted windows was waiting in front of the terminal. “You’ll be meeting Minister Liu at headquarters,” one of the men said.
Xiang was alone in the back. The driver sped off to Xiyuan, in the West Garden section of Beijing near the Summer Palace.
Soon they were in gridlock. Xiang was not looking forward to this meeting.
He was terrified of Liu.
Xiang had always been terrified of Liu.
He closed his eyes and thought about the first time he had met Liu. He was sixteen years old. Thanks to his father, he had already made a long journey in his life from the remote town in western China where he had been born. When Xiang was five, his father left Xiang and his mother to take a job assembling vacuum cleaners for export in a joint America-Chinese company in an industrial town south of Shanghai.
Xiang didn’t see his father, who sent money, for five years. Not until Xiang, a brilliant student, the teachers’ favorite, and at the top of every class, was attacked one day after school by resentful classmates. Two pinned him down while a third, holding a hot piece of coal with forceps, touched it against Xiang’s left cheek. Xiang was hospitalized and his mother’s pleas compelled his father to return to the town for a visit.
When his father heard what had happened, he arranged for Xiang to take a competitive exam for an elite boarding school in Shanghai. Xiang finished first in the exam. Six years later Xiang, who had an ugly scar on his left cheek, repeated that feat in the competitive exam for Beijing University where he planned to study economics and management.
That was when he first met Liu. Ten months before he was to enroll in Beijing University, Liu summoned him to an unmarked building in Shanghai. Without identifying his agency, Liu told Xiang that the government wanted him to go to college in the United States. He was ordered to apply to Carnegie Mellon, Stanford, and University of Illinois to study economics and management. He was admitted to all three.
Liu told him to attend CMU. He didn’t know why Liu selected CMU, but it wasn’t his to question. The government would fund his education and living expenses. “Understand everything about the United States,” Liu told Xiang. “But don’t become seduced by the American life or American women. When you return to China after your education, we have plans for you.”
But during his junior year at CMU, Xiang fell in love with Kelly Cameron, whose Caucasian American family owned a candy manufacturing plant. He was planning to marry Kelly and remain in the United States.
When Xiang returned to China during the summer before his senior year for a
brief visit with his parents, Liu summoned him to Shanghai for a meeting. To Xiang’s astonishment and horror, Liu knew all about Xiang’s relationship with Kelly and his plans to marry her. Somehow Liu had been spying on him.
Liu told Xiang that unless he broke off the relationship with Kelly and returned to China after graduation to follow the original plan, his parents would be arrested and suffer unimaginable torture.
Reluctantly Xiang complied. Back in China, a year later, Liu enrolled him into a training program for the Ministry of State Security, the Chinese equivalent of the CIA.
Xiang excelled in training. Afterwards, Liu spent ten years in Beijing examining and interpreting American documents. Then he received another summons from Liu, who had risen to deputy minister. This was the time, Liu told Xiang that he was being assigned to the Chinese Embassy in Washington. His cover would be as a member of the economic section of the embassy. He was to learn everything he could about economic and political developments in the United States and forward reports to Beijing via the diplomatic pouch. Meantime, Liu told Xiang, “We will move your parents to a comfortable apartment in Beijing; your father will receive a generous monthly salary without ever working again.”
For the next five years, Xiang did his job efficiently. Then Liu, who had been promoted to Minister for State Security, directed him to come to Beijing. That was five months ago.
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” the driver said.
Xiang thought about that Beijing meeting when Liu told him about Operation Trojan Horse, which Liu had conceived. “Our nets have snared an important American. Senator Wesley Jasper from Colorado. You will be responsible for coordinating our activities with Jasper.”
Liu told Xiang about his meeting with Jasper in Tokyo in July. Then he said, “You must always keep in mind the objective of Operation Trojan Horse. We are concerned that the United States is shifting its military focus to Asia in order to counterbalance the huge growth of China’s military. It’s critical for China to know precisely what military moves the United States is planning to make and also which new weapons systems it is developing.”
