She sat on the couch. Antoine sat fairly close to her. She recounted a few of the day’s details, but she didn’t know just how far she could trust Antoine. She felt pulled in, tightening her guard.
Fifteen minutes after Lishan’s arrival, she said that as much as she enjoyed his company, she must get to work. She added that her aunt’s safekeeping was also at stake.
Lishan spied her messenger bag in the corner, the bag that held her primary notes. Erik had moved her essentials there during the day. Lishan felt hope that he hadn’t written her off completely.
Antoine implored her to join him for a dinner he had cooked for the two of them. In her hesitation, he added, “I’m going to take a shower. Just let me know if you need anything, anything at all. Your bedroom is there. Mine’s to the left.” He patted her leg and left.
Lishan nodded and smiled, taking in the forward gestures from her new acquaintance. She felt uneasy, tracing the cause to Niesha staying alone at the motel. She hadn’t heard from her yet. Lishan decided a brief walk would clear her head.
Lishan stood next to the opening of Antoine’s bedroom. She could hear the shower just stopping.
“Antoine, I’m going for a walk. Be back shor...”
She stopped as Antoine stepped into full view, dripping wet, a luxurious Lauren towel intermittently exposing his developed pecs down to his knees as he dried off.
He smiled. “Oh, I was hoping you would cozy in. When will you be back?”
Lishan avoided a stammer. “It’s, what, eight now? Won’t be long. I’ll be calling my aunt. If she’s not okay, I might stay the night with her.”
“Must you?” Antoine was just too casual with the towel cover-up. “I hope you’re back soon.”
Lishan nodded a noncommittal yes. Grabbing her messenger bag and all her notes, she left the apartment. She didn’t want to get wrapped up with Antoine.
Catching a stray Diamond Cab, she headed straight to Niesha’s hotel.
Erik tried calling Antoine. There was no answer. Thinking a short walk would do him good, he proceeded to his friend’s place. He hadn’t completely forgiven Lishan, but he was trying. He was about to knock when he heard soft music coming from inside. He hesitated—not wanting to interrupt Antoine’s evening, especially if Antoine was entertaining another guest. But he decided it might be an odd night for such an occurrence, since Lishan was supposedly there. He knocked.
The door opened. Antoine stood there in sexy, clingy pajamas, unbuttoned down a little too far.
“Lishan, I’m glad you changed...” He stopped when he realized his error.
Erik pushed his way into the room.
“Candles? Music? Bare chest? Is this all for Lishan?”
“It’s not…”
“Not what?” Erik was fuming. He pushed Antoine hard against the wall, then left. Without thinking, he called Lishan.
“Hi,” he said gruffly, when she answered. “I was just at Antoine’s. Is there anyone you haven’t fucked?”
The line went dead.
He called again. “I’m furious. Do you know why?”
“I have an idea, but I doubt you care to hear it.”
“Try me.”
“Why should I? If all you care to do is cuss and accuse...your ignorance doesn’t excuse you.”
His breathing slowed, anger and fear competing with his sanity. “Okay, I’m listening.”
Silence. Erik couldn’t stand it. As he elevated his voice, “Would you just tell me...what the fu...yes, what the fuck happened?”
Lishan waited a few seconds before replying. Her tone was even, as though she were conducting a business meeting. The feeling that they were in a feud was difficult enough, but the extent and abrupt rise of his anger concerned her most.
“Listen, Erik. He came on me rather strong just before I left this evening. I wasn’t there more than an hour. He clearly let me know he was feeling sexy—dripping straight out of the shower with only a marginal attempt to cover himself. I’m staying in town tonight. What happened between you and Antoine?” She paused. “No, I don’t want to know. I don’t care. I can guess. But, I’m curious about the babe that left your apartment earlier, calling me a tramp on the way out.”
Confusion spun through him. What was Lishan doing in the hallway? More to the point, what was he doing with Etta that was any different from Lishan and Rafael? Retaliation somehow became his default when he felt lost, out of control.
“Given your sexual proclivities, I’m not so sure about the thirteenth. I think...”
Before he could finish, Lishan delivered the closing dictum. “My sexual proclivities? Mine? We’re adults, Erik. We talk. We’re civil. We work these things out, if it matters. None of this duplicity about sex, this ultimatum and junior high haughtiness. I’m staying with my aunt, Erik. Don’t call. I need to think. Good night.”
Half an hour later, Lishan appeared at Niesha’s Gonk hotel room. “Lishan, what are you doing here?” Niesha was pleased—and concerned.
Lishan felt tears tugging to be seen, but she wouldn’t hear of it this time.
52
Jack Conner opened his eyes to check the time. 5:13 a.m. His Jaeger Lecoultre watch never lied. Without moving from the comfort of his Ritz-Carlton bed, he picked up the phone and ordered room service. Eggs Florentine, a side order of strawberries and cream, and a pot of their best coffee. It was going to be a long morning—a long week, in fact. Yesterday’s call, warning of the impending arrest warrant, got his attention. The lack of a decent response from his supposed top judicial bodyguard didn’t help. Why in the hell do I pay top dollar to that Ferrali if he can’t pass muster?
When his lead counsel called yesterday, late afternoon, Conner was already well into his fourth Scotch at the Ritz-Carlton bar. Tom could tell his boss would likely make a grave error if they tried to meet in his three sheets condition. Tom managed to convince Conner to get a room there for the night, not to call anyone, not to leave, and to be ready to tackle this first thing in the morning. Tom assured Conner he would assemble the necessary players and have a game plan. Fortunately, for Tom’s sake, and his boss’, Conner passed out in his room an hour later, a mostly empty bottle of Spottswoode Cabernet on its side on the floor. The silk Persian rug would likely never recover.
This morning, Jack Conner had the worst splitting headache he could remember. He couldn’t stand the thought of talking to another soul until after a hot shower and breakfast.
53
At 8:00 a.m. sharp, Lishan was on the phone with Maya, who had been informed of Mazzini’s murder the evening before. Niesha had left for the non-profit to put in some time. Maya reassured Lishan that they would still be in good shape, given the emails, recordings, and documents.
“And,” Maya added, “we have the addition of another first-degree murder, which I believe we can press. We have a warrant out for Rudy Conner’s arrest, given the data you’ve given us. Your auntie also told me she reported the garage incident to the police. We haven’t heard if they found anything. Likely they won’t, but we’ll all try. I know you consider Rudy Conner to be a top suspect. We are also working on how to best tie the poisonings in with Conner.”
Maya continued. “The warrant for Jack Conner’s arrest and the restraining order were supposed to be delivered by the U.S. Marshals Service to Conner’s head office yesterday afternoon, where he was expected to be. But the Service didn’t get an approved arrest warrant until after seven in the evening. No one was in Conner’s office by that time. He was not at home, either. Someone may have tipped him off, though I don’t know who else could have known. I called Leana, but she said she wasn’t feeling well later and had to leave early. She said she thought it would all be handled on time. She apologized.”
Maya hesitated while she imagined the possibilities.
“However, we are certain he has the news since, this morning, his top attorney was in the office when Juan Jalasca, along with two other officers, arrived. The warrant now becomes an outs
tanding arrest warrant. Conner has advanced to fugitive status. He won’t be easy to find, since he’ll want to buy all the time he can, but we’re persistent...and very capable.”
“Lishan, Conner knows what he’s up against and the game before him. Of course, you know that makes you doubly vulnerable. My apologies that I must be blunt—but don’t take any chances. Same with your aunt. Conner will pull every string he can, but he isn’t the only one with connections. It’s vital that this story becomes public ASAP. Is the story still planned for publication today? Public visibility will improve your personal safety, now and later.”
“Yes. By noon or so.” Lishan paused. “Maya, is there any chance this will backfire?”
“Lishan, I’ve seen some cases previously sewn tight that came undone. But I would bet my reputation on this one. In fact, I believe I already have. Can you let me know the moment the story hits the newsstands? And one more thing—no, two: is your aunt safe, and can you get a copy of the newspaper to her?”
“Yes on both counts. As to where we will stay for the nights ahead, we’re considering our options. I’ll call my publisher about today’s edition.”
“Okay. Lie low.” Maya’s instructions were clear. Nothing to be toyed with. Nada.
“Thanks, Maya.”
Lishan grabbed a granola bar from her emergency stash. She was hungry, but she couldn’t take the time to head outside just yet. She called Elizabeth Walker.
“Good morning, Lishan. You’re not calling me at gunpoint, are you?”
Lishan managed a quiet laugh. “Not yet. Just checking in. I have some additional news, if you feel it’s pertinent and worthy.”
“I imagine you wouldn’t waste my time if it weren’t. Shoot.”
Lishan relayed the murder story of the night before. She also included details about her conversation with Howard Perkins, which she hadn’t mentioned previously. She decided not to keep telling people about the night at the garage.
“I know Howard. Excellent journalist. Too bad he disappeared from view when he retired. I’ll bet he’s living vicariously through you now. And Mazzini... unfortunate to see a reformer lose his chance, though I imagine he’s done some good, ultimately. Can I use his name?”
“Yes. I imagine it will fuel the fire,” Lishan said.
“And Howard’s? Presumably not, but he always did live on the edge. I’d like to, if it’s okay. We did favors for one another over the years. His name in print, especially regarding Conner, would add additional credence to the story.”
“Yes. I asked him. He said he didn’t know what value his name would bring, but he did smile at the thought of being a bellows, he said. He had run-ins with Conner over the years, and having his name associated with the coup de grâce made his face shine.”
“Perfect.”
“I think I’ll head to Kramerbooks. I’ll wait there for the newspaper drop. Thanks, Elizabeth.
“The thanks go to you, Lishan. It takes courage. Got a front page to massage with an editor. Lay low, Lishan. Bye.”
- - -
“Damnit! That riffraff of a reporter. And what about Ferrali? Did he just roll over? Who in the hell is that chief whatever attorney who thinks she can just do whatever she damn well pleases?” Jack Conner was livid. His team of legal counsel—including two Yale grads and one ex-circuit court judge—was meeting with him in Conner’s suite at the Ritz. Conner was pacing a hole in an expensive Sultanabad rug.
The army of attorneys and one judge had arrived just as Conner finished his breakfast. He was in no mood for this.
Tom Danforth was the first to speak up. It wasn’t that the others were timid, but his experience as a judge taught him the meaning of expediency, especially when someone of importance, someone with deep pockets, was waiting. “I called the U.S. Attorney’s office ten minutes ago. He has been unavailable for…”
“Damn him. Give me your goddamn cell phone.” Conner knew just what number to call when things were not going his way.
“What in the hell has kept you?” Conner never did try to hide his annoyance and anger.
The response was not what Conner had expected. Ferrali was angry, and defensive. “I’ve stood by you for the past seventeen years, Jack. Don’t give me this crap. You’ve done some fairly stupid—if I may use that word—maneuvers, and I’ve barely been able to keep you out of jail more times than I can count. This time you may have gone too far.”
Conner’s eyes widened. His voice quieted, just a little. “What do you mean, ‘too far’?”
“I mean just that. You’ve pushed even the limits of what I can do. But I’m working on it. My division chief, Maya—that damned harpy—has forgotten who’s the boss, and she’s interpreting the law outside of your favor. You know, Conner, she has a good case against you. You might not be quite so lucky this time. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose my job over you.”
“Oh? So the time you lied, under oath, about the FDA fast-tracking one of my new drug apps, to protect my shorts—that doesn’t count? And that time when you casually lost the files for the harassment complaint against me?”
“Are you threatening me?” Ferrali said, as his eyes narrowed. “You are, aren’t you?” The cell phone’s display went blank.
“That bastard hung up on me. Shit. I need him.”
Conner redialed.
“Okay, if it’s an apology you want, you’ve got it.”
“Is that the best you can do?”
Conner fumed. “No. Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll have one hundred thousand put into your account by day’s end. Now get me out of this.”
Conner yelled at his staff. “Out. Everybody out.”
The disappointment showed on the men’s faces. They were likely expecting to be treated luxuriously for being there so early. A breakfast buffet at the Ritz would support their importance in the world. Ashes to ashes.
54
As noon approached, Lishan prepared to leave their hotel on her way to Dupont Circle. She hadn’t assumed the disguise yet, which she had picked up when Chris had taken her to her apartment.
I’m so tired of this, she thought. Can’t I just be a little more like me for a change? Lishan didn’t put on the thirty pounds, or the heavy makeup. Instead, she opted for a coat with a high collar to help hide her features, then a Castro cap to top it off. This’ll do well enough, she thought with one last check in the full-length mirror.
Catching the rail to Dupont Circle, she arrived at Kramerbooks in time to secure a small table in the bookstore café.
The bookstore was an icon in the area. While waiting, she could peruse the books—see if there were any about Conner. She knew there was always fodder about the FDA.
Biding her time with a latté, a sandwich, and some research would pass the minutes that seemed to drag by. She used to pass the time here with Erik. She felt a tear, wondering if those days were gone.
At a few minutes after twelve, she saw the newspaper rack for The Washington Mirror being filled. She could barely contain the anxiety she felt, nearly knocking over a small round table with two young women sipping their coffees, which then spilled.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Lishan said, her fervor like a sixth cup of coffee. “That newspaper rack has an article that I need to read. Sorry. Here. Replace your drinks, plus pastries.” She put a twenty on the table.
They protested, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
The newspaper. Lishan stopped breathing for a few seconds. “Arrest Warrant Issued for Conner Foods’ CEO.” The sub-heading delivered the finale: “Murder and Toxic Foods Cited.”
Lishan paid the 75 cents, buried her head in the article and walked slowly toward her table.
“Hey!”
It was too late. The warning sound from one of the same two women didn’t make it in time. Two refills spilled.
“Oh...! I’m so sorry, again. Here, let me…”
“No. It’s okay. Must be why you gave us a twenty to begin with. Could you just sit down, tell us wha
t’s going on? Self-defense you might call it. Plus, your earlier comment caught our attention.”
Lishan hesitated. She desperately wanted to read the article. She thought of a solution. “Okay, on the condition that I read this out loud to us. It’s important to me.”
The same woman spoke up. “I’m Laura.” She offereding her end of a handshake. She turned to her companion. “Eb, this fine person must either be a JD or a journalist. She’s on trial here but already attempting to call the shots. What do you think?”
“I would say we lock her up, but not until we finish drinking two full cups of coffee, which we have to hold with both hands.”
Lishan broke a smile. “Okay. I’m outnumbered. This article is crucial to my life, my family, and a few friends. I haven’t read it yet. Perhaps it will all become clear then.” As she sat down, “Eb for Ebony?”
“Two points for you, honey.”
“Journalist, if you must know. Apologies for my aberrant behavior.” She read the headline out loud, followed by the story’s text.
Yesterday, Criminal Division Chief U.S. Attorney Maya Rosenstein issued an arrest warrant against Jack Conner, CEO of Conner Foods. The allegations include first and third degree murder, and attempts to sell dangerous, substandard foods, with unnatural shelf lives, which have reportedly resulted in illness and death.
Journalist Lishan Amir, along with Niesha Amir, well-known retired journalist Howard Perkins, and author Alan Frazier have put what they feel is the final lid on several decades of effort to pin criminal charges on Conner, including illegal influence Conner may have had with the FDA.
Lishan stopped for a breath.
“You, I take it, are the said Lishan?” Ebony had leaned in close, clearly engrossed in the story. “We’re familiar with Conner. One of our professors had us follow his shenanigans, noting how he’s evaded the law. Until now?”
“Yes. I’m hopeful. One of his henchmen—a guy named Mazzini—finally decided to change his life before his misdeeds caught up with him. He was a little late, but at least there are a few of us who know of his decision to provide evidence against Conner, which we recorded. Mazzini was murdered last night.” Lishan took another breath. “May I?” she said, returning to the newspaper. Both women nodded.
Silence Her Page 28
