by David Wind
The Entente proposal was finished. His secretary had left it on the desk before she’d gone home for the night.
Not for the first time did Steven pause to wonder at the enormity of their undertaking. The future of Philip Pritman rested within the pages of Entente. Only Steven, Pritman and Savak knew what Entente truly meant. Only they foresaw the power it would give the next President.
Steven read the yellow sticky memo his secretary attached to the top sheet, asking if this would be the final draft.
He drank more coffee, and went to work. It took him an hour to read the document. When he finished, he marked the memo yes, initialed it, and placed it in the out tray for his secretary to take to Pritman.
Then he started on the next item, a speech he was to deliver to the Washington Bar Association’s monthly dinner, scheduled for the last Saturday of the month.
He was twenty minutes into the speech when his door opened and his secretary came in. “The special staff meeting starts in five minutes.”
Steven smiled at Ruth. “Thank you.”
“How is Ellie doing?”
How can she be doing? She’s lying there with her mind torn up. “There’s been no change.”
“She’ll make it,” Ruth told him confidently. “She’s strong.”
Steven stood and tightened his tie. “Ruth, did you notice if Ellie was acting funny last Monday. Did she seem nervous, or upset about anything?”
Ruth shook her head. “She was Ellie. Smiling all the time.” Ruth paused. Her large brown eyes grew troubled. Having worked with Ruth for so long, Steven knew her well enough to sense she wanted to say something but was afraid.
“But...”
She straightened her skirt nervously. “Rumor has it that the FBI thinks you—”
He cut her off sharply. His eyes bored into hers. “I don’t care what they think. I do care what you think.”
“I’ve been your secretary for six years; I know you didn’t do it. I just don’t understand how they could even consider that you would do something like that.”
“Circumstances,” Steven said, paraphrasing Banacek.
“We’re all behind you.”
Steven stepped out from behind his desk. “That means a lot to me. Ruth,” he said, pausing, “what time did Ellie leave last Monday?”
Steven’s secretary’s face turned thoughtful. “I left at five-thirty, and Ellie was still here. In fact, she and I were the only ones left. There was a Foreign Relations committee meeting that afternoon, and everyone was at the Senate Office Building, except for Ellie and myself. Why?”
Steven shrugged. “Just curious.”
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The conference room was large, twenty by twenty, with a long oval table that sat twelve comfortably. The walls were painted mauve. a television monitor, a tape deck, and a blackboard were set into the far wall.
A half dozen people sat at the table. Senator Pritman was at the head, Press Secretary Clarke was next to him. Roy McGinnis, Pritman’s domestic policy advisor was in the third seat.
Savak and Steven sat across from Clarke and McGinnis. Between Steven and Pritman was Linda Commack, the woman filling in for Ellie as Pritman’s assistant. Linda was young and ambitious and pretty, and all too similar to the thousands of other women looking to move up the political ladder.
Steven nodded politely to McGinnis. On a personal level, Steven didn’t like the short thin man, but agreed with the others that the obnoxious and opinionated New Englander was the best in the business.
The agenda for today centered on the contingencies for the coming race: The senator’s positions on certain bills, and his position on foreign relations.
The meeting started at a fast pace, and did not let up for an hour. They covered the first quarter of their agenda in that hour, but got stuck on the topic of combating the seven declared candidates.
“We can’t do anything until you declare,” McGinnis told Pritman. “We’re impotent until then.”
“Bullshit,” Clarke said sharply. “We’re in the best possible position. Those seven are cutting each other to ribbons, and not saying a word about the senator. The fallout has already begun. Right now we’re a hell of a lot better off out of the limelight than in it.”
“Every day we wait is time lost from the campaign,” McGinnis reiterated.
“Simon is right,” Savak interrupted, taking the role of mediator. “We’ve all agreed on the time schedule. We’re not deviating from it.”
“Now is the right time,” McGinnis said. “If we don’t declare soon, we’ll lose out in all the early primaries.”
Savak tapped the front page of the Washington Post. “Not yet. When we declare, it will be at a time that will give us instant momentum. But it’s getting close, Roy. A few more of these Sino-Soviet confrontations and it will be time. We must wait for the exact moment.”
“I concur,” Pritman said. “Simon has worked out the perfect announcement speech, but the climate has to be ripe.”
McGinnis frowned. “How much riper can it get? Everyone’s scared as hell that China and the Soviets are going to war.”
“They aren’t,” Steven cut in. “They’re peacocking, putting on a show of strength. That’s all.”
“For now,” McGinnis said. “But it’s...” McGinnis’s words faded from Steven’s hearing as he stared at the man. McGinnis had messy gray hair. His nose was broad, and his mouth and chin almost concave.
While Steven tuned out McGinnis’ curt argument, he found himself wondering if McGinnis was the one who tortured Ellie. Did he tie her up and use the razor to slice her skin open? Was he the one who poured salt water over the cuts, repeatedly asking the same questions? Did he take her to the lake, throw her in, and send the car hurtling down on her, thinking no one would ever find her? Beads of sweat broke across his forehead. He willed the terrible image away and concentrate on the speakers.
“...I still think we’re letting too much time go by. The other candidates are getting all the attention. We need some of that,” McGinnis finished.
“We’ll have all we need. But you’ll just have to trust me on that,” Savak stated before turning to Steven. “How did the meeting go with Lerman’s counsel?”
“Fine.” He looked at Pritman. “The steel assistance bill is even more important a project to Lerman than we first thought. It gave me the leverage to get the concessions we wanted. We’ve reworded the weak sections to give it a more powerful bite. The tariff add-ons we caught in the last draft are out. Collier told me that with your backing on the bill, Lerman’s been promised enough votes to pass it in the House. He’ll owe you big for this one, Senator.”
“Which is a part of what we’re talking about,” Savak interjected at McGinnis. “We’re not jumping into the arena until we have a solid chance at taking the whole game.”
“I think we’ve spent enough time on the campaign,” Pritman said. “Get onto the real business. Linda, what bills are coming up for votes this week?”
Ellie’s stand-in read from her notes. She named three bills up for voting, and fell silent.
Pritman asked each of his advisors their opinions, and thoughtfully listened to the pros and cons from each.
The meeting went on for another hour, ending at two. As they filed out of the conference room, Steven grabbed Savak’s arm and motioned toward Savak’s office.
Inside, seated on Savak’s couch, Steven said, “What have you come up with?”
Savak shook his head. “Nothing. It’s as if nothing happened to Ellie. I’ve spoken with my people at the Bureau, and at Justice itself. They won’t tell me anything.”
“Damn it. As long as the Feds view me as the only suspect, they won’t look for the real one.”
“As soon as Ellie comes out of the coma, she’ll clear you. Then they’ll have no choice but to look elsewhere.”
Steven slapped his thigh. “Arnie, I think if there was any real hope of her being able to remember, Joshua Raden would have told me.”
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Savak’s eyes went distant. “Wasn’t that a coincidence, finding Jeremy’s brother living near us after all these years? Steven, how sure is he that Ellie’s memory is completely gone?”
“Very sure. The tests confirmed it.”
“I’m sorry, Steven. Maybe I should go to the reception instead of you. Perhaps it’s time I faced my past and showed Xzi Tao he’s only a bad memory.”
Steven’s laugh grated hollowly on his ears. “No, my friend, you’ve faced your past enough times, it’s my turn.”
Savak’s intercom buzzed. He picked up the receiver, listened, and turned to Steven. “It’s for you.”
Steven took the receiver. “Morrisy.”
“Steven, its Carla. You have to come to my apartment. Now.”
“What’s wrong?”
“My friend is here—the one I told you about.”
“On my way,” he said after getting her address.
When he hung up, he turned to Savak. “That was Ellie’s sister. I have to go.”
Concern filled Savak’s face. “Has something happened to Ellie?”
“No,” Steven assured him quickly. “Carla’s arranged a meeting for me with someone from Treasury. Keep your fingers crossed. Maybe we’ll finally learn something about this mess.”
The drive from his office to Alexandria seemed interminable. It was three-thirty when Steven parked next to Carla’s tall glass and brick condominium.
Entering the modern lobby, he gave his name to the doorman and went to the elevator.
The ride in the wood paneled elevator seemed as slow as the car ride from his office. He was brimming with anticipation, and the hope that Carla’s friend would be able to help them.
He got out of the elevator on the ninth floor, and walked patiently along the dark carpeted hallway to Carla’s door. With each step, his sense of anticipation grew. Perhaps the time had come for him to learn something that would help him find Ellie’s attacker.
A brass plate set beneath a curved knocker read, Rogers. Steven knocked twice.
Carla opened the door a few seconds later. She smiled. “That was quick.”
Steven followed her into a large, light, and airy the living room. The walls were white, the carpet burgundy. The furniture was gray glove leather and modern. There were large glass sliding doors on the far wall, which opened to a balcony.
“Paul,” Carla called.
Steven saw a man leaning on the balcony railing. He straightened, turned, and came inside. Carla’s friend stood six feet tall. He was broad shouldered with a smooth featured and handsome face and hard gray green eyes. He wore a blue Brooks Brothers suit. His black shoes were lace up wing tips. The man, Steven thought, was Government Issue.
“Steven,” Carla said as the stranger approached, “I’d like you to meet Paul Grange.”
Steven shook the proffered hand. Grange’s grip was firm, his palm dry.
“Mr. Grange,” Steven said, sizing Grange up. He had seen Grange’s type many times before, and knew he was more than just ‘someone’ at Treasury. “Secret Service?”
Grange shrugged noncommittally. “Mr. Morrisy, before we go any further, I want you to understand two things: I’ve known Ellie Rogers for a very long time; and, the only reason I’m here is because Carla asked me to meet with you.
“When Carla called me, and told me what had happened, I did some checking on the situation with Ellie and you. Everything I’ve learned tells me you’re Ellie’s assailant.”
Steven checked his rush of anger. He met Grange’s hostile stare openly. “Everything you’ve learned is circumstantial. If it wasn’t, the FBI wouldn’t have backed away from me in Pennsylvania.”
“Perhaps they’re waiting for something else.”
“Mr. Grange, I don’t give a damn what the FBI thinks. I know what I did and what I didn’t do. As far as the FBI is concerned, I’ve been witness to too many situations where the Bureau, working on what they call inside information, takes one or two facts that fits whatever their puzzle is, and builds a case thread by thread until they’ve made it as airtight as possible.
“But the Bureau has no peripheral vision. They put their lasso around the one person they believe is their suspect and they wait until they’ve found what they want. It doesn’t matter if circumstance makes their case, not once they’ve decided who’s guilty.
“The problem is,” Steven continued, his gaze locked on Grange, “in too many instances, including the situation I’m involved in, their base facts are wrong. Which is why they’re looking at me when they should be looking elsewhere.”
A slight flicker crossed Grange’s eyes before he said, “And where should they be looking, and at who?”
“If I had the answer to that question, I wouldn’t be here now. I’d be going after him.”
“The Bureau believes they’re right.”
“As I said, I don’t give a damn what lawyers and accountants who like to play with guns believe. I know what the truth is.”
“Which is?”
“I didn’t try to kill Ellie.”
“What would you say if I told you that they might suspect you of espionage?”
Steven couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “What the hell kind of information am I accessible to that would make me a spy? I’m the legal advisor to a United States Senator, not a State Department employee.”
“Advisor is the key word. You are the advisor to a senator who is the head of the Foreign Relations Committee, a member of the Intelligence Committee, and member of the joint Senate Congressional Watchdog Committee monitoring the NSC. You could be privy to all sorts of information.”
“Which I’m not, and which the senator will verify.”
“You were also in Military Intelligence. You were a highly trained operative—”
“Lieutenant, not operative,” Steven cut in. Grange ignored the interruption and said, “How easy would it be for an operative to learn things…especially one as well placed on an important man’s staff as you? What real problem would it present for you to get into his private files?”
Steven stepped forward, his hands balled into tight fists. “You son-of-a-bitch. Let me tell you something. I went to Vietnam because I believed what I was told about the war. I went there to help my country, and I’ll be damned if I’d do anything to hurt it now.”
“Which is another example of what the Bureau has on you,” Grange said, studying Steven carefully. “Isn’t it true that as a prisoner of war you gave the enemy information? You and Sergeant Charles Latham and Captain Arnold Savak?”
Steven closed his eyes. Finally, after all the years, someone was going to use it. Steven opened his eyes and stared at Grange. “There was no choice in what happened. They used drugs.”
Grange nodded. “Two of the men in your squad died; but the three of you—three men from the same town—lived. Why?”
Steven’s thoughts turned dark. He fought the bitterness that was growing within him. “Did you read the entire file or just the parts that gave you the most dirt?”
“The entire file.”
Grange’s answer confirmed Steven’s first guess as to who Grange was. It was the only possible way he could access to the files. “Then you know what our mission was, don’t you?” Steven asked, unable to keep his voice as firm as he wanted.
“Reconnaissance. Mapping and charting enemy troop movement toward Laos. Its purpose was to get Congressional approval for American troop deployment and bombing of Laos and Cambodia.”
Watching Grange’s face closely, he said, “Nothing else?”
“No. Should there be?”
There had been no movement of Grange’s eyelids, no telltale dilation of his pupils. Grange was not lying. Whatever he had learned from the file, Grange believed it was the truth. Steven felt the darkness within begin to ebb, slightly. “How high is your security clearance?”
“High enough,” Grange said.
The simple authority behind Grange’s answer rang true. It
told Steven something was drastically wrong. “What about the debriefing sessions after we got back?”
“They were there. Each of you admitted giving information. The three of you were absolved from charges because drugs were used. You never gave information voluntarily.”
“It says we were absolved because of our statements?”
‘Yes.”
“Didn’t those statements tell you anything?”
“What should they have told me?” Grange asked, showing a shade of doubt for the first time since they began their verbal sparring. “They all concurred.”
Steven shook his head as a harrowing suspicion began to rise. “What was our mission? What was the information we gave the enemy?”
“What kind of a game is this? I just told you what your mission was.”
Steven moistened his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue. “I take it for granted you’ve looked over Savak and Latham’s files because of me?”
Grange nodded again.
“And they’re all the same?”
“Yes.”
Steven realized, belatedly, that he should have expected something like this. “The records were altered.”
Steven caught Grange’s momentary sharp glance to Carla. “In what way?”
“I’m not allowed to tell you that. Were the records you inspected the Army files or the security clearance reports?”
“Are you saying that the original records contain currently classified material?”
“It was classified when I terminated, and I have every reason to believe it would be classified today. Which records did you get? My Army jacket or my security clearance report.”
“The security clearance reports. As far as the military records, they’re the Photostats of the files.” Steven breathed easier. “Then maybe they weren’t altered. You may not have all the records.”
“Oh, I see,” Grange said sarcastically.
This time Steven couldn’t stop his anger. “You don’t see a goddamned thing. You still think I tried to kill Ellie.”
“You haven’t given me a reason not to.”
“I know he didn’t try to kill her,” Carla said.
Grange looked at her. “Woman’s intuition?”
