Dangerous Games

by Danielle Steel

  “They say that India is the most romantic country in the world,” Ben said to her when they ordered cognac after dinner, and Alix smiled at him.

  “So I hear. The last time I was here, it was for a flood that killed eight thousand people. This story has been unusually civilized.” She looked relaxed and pleased. “I’m sorry you have to waste the romance of India on me!” she teased, and he grinned at her. She had seen him eyeing beautiful Indian women in the streets and at the restaurant that night.

  “I was just thinking that too. But I’d rather be having dinner with you than the guys I’ve worked with. Having dinner with a bunch of Navy SEALs isn’t too romantic either. And the canteens we ate in never looked like this.” She laughed at the vision.

  “Don’t get used to it, it’s not likely to happen again anytime soon.” Most of the time she and Ben were in combat zones, in filthy clothes, sleeping in miserable accommodations, or in military trucks or the back of Jeeps. “I was just thinking how strange it is that our subject is convinced he won’t go to prison, and everyone we talked to in any kind of position of authority says it’s a sure thing. Do you think he was just bullshitting us, or himself?” Alix asked him. But she also knew it was the nature of sociopaths to believe themselves above the law.

  “Denial is a wonderful thing,” Ben said as they finished their drinks. The meal had been superb, and in comparison to New York, surprisingly cheap, so neither Ben nor Alix felt guilty about their expense accounts. They were entitled to a little extravagance once in a while. “I think he genuinely believes he won’t go to prison. He’s convinced he’s smarter than everyone else. You heard what he said,” Ben reminded her. He always listened closely to the interviews while he filmed.

  “I figured that was just bravado for the media and for me.”

  “I don’t think so. I think he means it. He’s in for a surprise, or who knows, maybe he can bribe his way out of it, but it didn’t sound like it to me. There’s been too much collateral damage from what he did, although he doesn’t see it that way. So where do we go next?” She had spoken to Felix after he saw the rough of the interview and asked him the same question. He said he thought they’d be home for a few weeks. And he reminded her that he wanted her to do the checking he’d asked for about Tony Clark, since there were no pressing stories at the moment. He still thought there might be a story there, even if Ben and Alix didn’t agree. But he was their boss, and they had to do as he said. “I wouldn’t mind a couple of weeks in New York,” Ben said as they left the restaurant to go back to the hotel. “I feel like we’re almost never there.”

  “We aren’t. And I’d like to catch a weekend with Faye, if she’s not too busy. I could fly down to Duke.” She hadn’t seen her daughter in two months.

  “You’re lucky you have her,” Ben said quietly, in a tone Alix had never heard him use before. They never talked about personal things while they were at work, but it was a beautiful night under a full moon in an exquisite place, and she had made some effort to dress for dinner and so had he. It took them out of their normal work context, and made them feel more like ordinary people, a man and a woman having dinner, even if they were only friends and worked together.

  “You’ve never wanted to have kids? It’s not too late,” she commented to him in response to what he said.

  “I think it is,” he said after the slightest hesitation. If he had been an interview subject, she would have pressed the point, but she didn’t, even though she had heard a catch in his voice and wondered about it.

  “I had Faye when I was twenty, still in college, and I was in no way prepared for what it entailed. We got married barely a month before she was born, and he died in an accident three months later. His family wanted nothing to do with me or Faye. And eventually I left her with my mother in Europe, went back to school, and got a job in New York. I left her with my mom for five years. It sounds simple now, but it wasn’t then.” She had never told him the circumstances of her marriage and Faye’s birth before. And he looked impressed by what she’d said. “I could never have managed without my mother’s help. It worked at the time, but that kind of thing leaves scars. All things considered, Faye has been amazingly mature and forgiving about it, and my mother was great with her. With no father and an absentee mother, she could be a lot angrier at me than she is. All she complains about is my work. She wishes I was a ‘normal mom,’ but that’s never been in the cards for me. My mother was a stay-at-home mom, and she was good at it. I would go nuts if I tried. On the positive side, what it’s done, I think, is set an example for Faye to go after what she wants, do what she wants to do, and fight for what she believes in. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing, even if I wasn’t around all the time. I brought her back from France, where she was living with my mother, when she was five, it wasn’t easy, but we made it work. She’s a pretty cool kid.”

  “So is her mom,” he said admiringly. “I’m always in awe of people who have jobs like ours, still manage to have kids, and don’t screw them up totally. What were your parents like?”

  “My father was Sir Alex Phillips, the British journalist, who was killed by an IRA bomb when I was a little kid. My mother is French and an amazing woman. If I’m a halfway decent mother, it’s because of her. She always encouraged me to do and be whatever I wanted. I’m sure it drives her crazy that I followed in my father’s footsteps, and we know how that turned out, but she never complains. And if anything ever happens to me, I know she’ll be fantastic with Faye. My mother is in her sixties now, but she’s busy and happy, she travels, sees friends, and doesn’t expect me to fill her life. She’s a remarkable woman, and Faye is crazy about her. In some ways, she’s closer to her than she is to me. They have a special bond.”

  “I loved my grandmother too. She was a big, heavyset, cozy woman who was sure I could do no wrong, was a genius, and she was a wonderful cook. She was very proud when I joined the SEALs. The rest of the family thought I was wasting my time in the military. They wanted me to go into the family printing business. It just wasn’t for me. It’s amazing how important grandparents are in our lives, and the support they can give us,” he said, sounding nostalgic as he reminisced.

  “I never had any grandparents,” Alix confessed easily. “Mine died before I was born, and both of my parents were only children, so it was just my mom and me, which is why it’s slim pickings for Faye too. All she has is me and my mom.”

  “It sounds like she’s doing fine. Both of my parents came from big families, and I haven’t seen any of them in years. And I hardly ever see my brothers. We have nothing in common. They still live in Michigan, and ‘have normalcy,’ as you put it. It’s hard for them to relate to me, after the SEALs and what I do now. And harder still for me to relate to them. I feel like I’ve landed from another planet when I go home, and that’s how they treat me. They’re all married and have kids. My ex-wife and I were childhood sweethearts, and she went back to Michigan after the divorce. She’s married and has kids now too. I’m the only renegade in the bunch.” Alix sensed that there was more he wasn’t telling her, but she didn’t want to pry.

  “Sometimes that’s not a bad thing to be,” she said kindly.

  “I’m not sure they’d agree,” he said as they walked into the hotel. It had been a nice evening and they were both feeling mellow.

  “I can’t imagine ever giving all this up. Can you?” she asked him.

  He shook his head in answer and laughed. “No. But I can’t see you dodging mines and bullets forever either. We’ll have to do something tamer one day.” Although they had enjoyed the assignment in New Delhi, which had been less rigorous than what they were used to.

  “Not yet,” Alix said firmly. “I’m not ready to sit at a desk, and I’m not sure I ever will be. They’ll have to bury me first,” she said with fervor.

  “Hopefully not. Not on my watch anyway.” She was a handful and a challenge, but he loved the work. She kept him busy chasing after her and trying to keep her out of dang
er. “You need more than one Navy SEAL to keep you out of trouble.”

  She thanked him for the enjoyable evening, and they both went to their rooms. She was already packed to leave the next day. And early in the morning, they took a flight back to New York. It was late when they arrived, and this time she went home, and told Ben she was going to stay home the next morning to make some calls.

  “About Tony Clark?” She nodded, and waved as she walked into her building, and he went on to Brooklyn. She texted Faye that she was home, and got no response. She was probably busy studying or out with friends. Alix wasn’t worried.

  In the morning, Alix looked at the list of calls she wanted to make to her contacts in Washington. But there was one person she was going to try to see first. It was gnawing at her and had been for days. She had looked her up on the Internet and was surprised to find her number easily. Alix wondered if it was a home or office number, but she dialed it anyway, and a woman answered who sounded efficient and businesslike.

  “Jennifer MacPherson,” she said clearly. Alix asked if it was Olympia Foster’s office, and the woman on the line confirmed that it was. Alix said she wanted an appointment with her, and didn’t identify herself by the network, but the woman on the phone had recognized her name and asked what it was about.

  “I’d like to speak to her about her late husband,” Alix said quietly. “I’m an avid fan of her book.” She could hardly say that she wanted to see her to ask if Tony Clark was a crook. And she hoped that the book would be an effective way in. Her assistant took down Alix’s contact information and said she would let her know if Mrs. Foster was available, which meant if she wanted to see her. It was all Alix could do for the moment. She couldn’t force her way in, and she had no other access, so she had to be able to get past the palace guard, in the person of Jennifer MacPherson, who sounded formidable, and none too friendly to Alix.

  When she hung up, Alix sat thinking for a minute about Olympia, and wondered if she would agree to see her. And then she made the other calls to Washington, and interestingly, no one seemed surprised that she wanted to know about Tony Clark and his ties to various lobbyists. No one seemed surprised by the question, but they said they had no information about him, though two said they had wondered about him too. All of them promised to see what they could find out, and said they would get back to her. It intrigued her that several of her legitimate political contacts had doubts about him too. Maybe Felix wasn’t wrong. All she could do now was wait to hear back from them, and prod them if they took too long to respond. But the question had been asked about Tony Clark’s activities. And she had reached out to Olympia Foster, as a close friend of his, although Clark’s name was never mentioned. She had started the ball rolling, the rest remained to be seen, and where it went from there. You could never tell where it would lead once you started asking questions. The answers were almost never what you expected, which was part of the fun of her job. There were new surprises every day. How could she ever give that up for a “normal” life and ordinary work?

  Chapter 3

  Alix had given Olympia Foster’s assistant her cellphone number as the best number to reach her on. Three days later, no one had called, and Alix didn’t want to be rude and push. She knew that Olympia would have to be handled with kid gloves, if she even got the opportunity since the word on the street was that Olympia never talked to the media, or very rarely. And Alix didn’t know it, but Olympia’s assistant had strongly advised her not to meet with her. Alix was a member of the press after all, and an investigative reporter for a major network. And she was known to be both aggressive and seductive with her subjects. Jennifer didn’t trust her at all.

  “But you said it was about the book,” Olympia said, hesitating. She knew who Alix was and had always admired her news coverage on TV. She was intelligent and thoughtful and respectful of her subjects, even if she got them to admit to some amazing things. But Olympia had nothing to hide.

  “She said she’s ‘an avid fan’ of your book. She didn’t say it was about your book,” Jennifer said precisely, “and that’s what she’s saying to get through the door, to soften you up. That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “What else could it be about?” Olympia looked mystified.

  “You never know with the press. It could be about some scandal the public doesn’t know about yet.”

  “I’ve never been involved in a scandal, and neither was Bill,” she said calmly. It sounded innocent to her, but she was famously naïve, and Jennifer had spent a dozen years protecting her, even when the senator was alive. And she had doubled her efforts to shield Olympia once he was gone.

  But in spite of everything Jennifer said, Olympia decided to see Alix. She wanted the opportunity to talk about her second book, another one about Bill. This one was subtler, and less about his activities than about his philosophy about the role of government in the future, in a changing world. She hadn’t had much support for it so far, and it didn’t have a publisher yet. They wanted to see the finished book and make sure it wasn’t too repetitive of the first, nor too theoretical. She had used the first book as a way to stay locked up in the house for three years, correcting and editing and fine-tuning it, and now she was doing it again. Her children were upset that she had become a recluse, and thought she should get back in the world again. They were worried about her. But Olympia was still determined to carry Bill’s message to the world. It had become her sacred mission.

  Josh and Darcy, her children, had already told her that she had used every possible excuse not to return to the land of the living, and this was only prolonging the process. They thought she should get out more, see old friends she hadn’t seen in years, find some activity, get a job, or even go back to school. They reminded her that their father had been gone for six years and they considered her new book yet another way to extend her period of mourning and make it her way of life. She insisted that wasn’t the motivation behind it, but the result was the same, whatever her reasons for writing the book. Jennifer thought the kids were right, so a conversation with Alix about a second book about Bill Foster didn’t sound like a good idea to her. And who knew what Alix really wanted, or what she would say?

  Olympia listened to Jennifer’s objections politely, and made the call to Alix herself. Alix was busy at the office and had just come out of a meeting when she answered the blocked call. She heard the distinctive, gentle voice at the other end, and recognized it immediately, and was stunned.

  “Ms. Phillips?” Olympia said with her careful diction and smoky voice. “Olympia Foster here. I believe you called me about my book. I’m actually working on another one now. It’s not finished yet, but I hope it will be out in about a year, if I find a publisher for it. It’s a little more esoteric than the last one, but Bill had such wonderful ideas for the country’s future. I couldn’t do them justice in the last book, there was so much to say.” She was obviously very anxious to talk about the book.

  “Of course, I understand,” Alix said, bumbling over her own words for a minute, which was unlike her. But it seemed extraordinary that she was talking to Olympia Foster. It had been so easy, and now here she was. “Would you be willing to meet and talk about it?” Alix asked respectfully. She didn’t want to tell her that she didn’t want to talk about her late husband, but about Tony Clark. She figured that might be more fruitful in person. What she needed now was to get through the door. She could deal with the rest later. Alix realized that her heart was beating faster at the prospect of meeting her, which seemed ridiculous, even to her. But Olympia had become an icon of sorts, a symbol of the good wife, carrying the eternal flame for her late husband, who had died a martyr’s death. Her name was spoken with compassion, in hushed tones with deep respect. She was more than just a widow now.

  “I’d be happy to meet with you,” Olympia said quietly. “I’ve always admired your work. Your coverage of the news, particularly from war zones, is truly remarkable. You’re a very brave woman.”

 
“Thank you,” Alix said, blushing. She felt like a kid, in awe of Olympia. Olympia seemed like a gentle person, was eight years older than Alix, and had a kind of ethereal mystique. She had become a legend.

  Two days later, Jennifer opened the door of the townhouse to Alix with a stern look. Alix had worn a gray skirt and sweater and high heels, and her long blond hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. She looked sleek and well put together, and she smiled at Jennifer when she walked in. The assistant remained chilly and subdued. Alix could sense that Jennifer didn’t approve of her being there, but clearly Olympia had made the decision, and Jennifer had to live with it, like it or not.

  She led Alix into a small den, which was handsomely furnished with English antiques, and asked her to wait. She returned a few minutes later, and had Alix follow her upstairs, which she did solemnly. There was an odd sense of being in hallowed halls, and the house was very quiet. Almost painfully so. Alix knew that the Fosters had lived in Chicago and Washington when he had been senator, since he was from Illinois, and Olympia and her children had moved to New York after he died. She had lived there for the past six years, but the house looked as though she had lived in it longer. Alix followed Jennifer into a room that seemed like a shrine to Bill. It was lined with books, and there was a handsome antique English desk that had been his. His trophies, mementos, and photographs of him were all over the room, and there was a portrait of him over the fireplace. His presence and spirit were palpable in the room.

  Olympia got up from the desk where she’d been working and walked toward her with the smile that Alix remembered so well. It was both shy and warm at the same time, and she invited her to sit down in a comfortable chair under the gaze of the portrait. The room wasn’t depressing as much as fascinating, since everything in it appeared to be his or about him. It was where Olympia spent all her time, and where she was the most comfortable. All his most cherished possessions were around them, and photographs of him, with her, with the children, at the Senate, during his campaign, and her book to honor him was on the coffee table with his photograph on the cover. And Olympia herself was discreet, gracious, soft-spoken, and as ethereal as Alix had always thought her. There was something very vulnerable about her.