by David Wind
Steven didn’t miss the open message. Metzger wanted to be on the winning team, and he had already decided who that would be.
“I’ll arrange it.”
“Miss Rogers,” Metzger said, according Carla a bob of his head before fading into the crowd.
Steven checked on Pritman, who was still talking with the Californian. “What was that about?” Carla asked.
“Jack’s a career man with the State department. He wants to make sure his career will continue to climb.”
Carla appeared puzzled. “How can you do that for him?”
“Not me, Pritman. Metzger’s looking toward the next election. If Pritman is nominated, and wins, Metzger wants to be visible to us.”
“I see.”
A moment later, the crowded room seemed to ripple. The thunder of a hundred conversations ended abruptly when upper doors of the Grand Ballroom opened and the Chinese delegation entered.
Steven tensed as the delegation came down the curving staircase. Waiting to greet the Ambassador on the main floor, the Vice President, the Secretary of State, and the American Ambassador to the U.N., with their wives, stood in the formal reception line.
Steven spotted Xzi Tao the minute his foot touched the top step. The years disappeared in an instant as he watched the tall Chinese dignitary descend the staircase to be greeted by the Vice President at the bottom.
Steven bit his lower lip as his internal tension mounted.
“Steven,” Carla said, tugging lightly on the sleeve of his tuxedo.
Steven shook off his sudden paralysis and looked at her. She had a linen handkerchief in her hand, and raised it to his lips. She wiped quickly, coming away with a scarlet stain of blood.
Steven wiped his tongue across his lip, and felt the sting from where he’d unconsciously bitten down.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” Steven said as the last of the Chinese delegation filed past the reception line.
“Morrisy,” came a low, almost guttural voice. Steven turned to find Harry Canter coming toward him. Canter, a political columnist for the Washington Post, was a short bald man with a barrel chest and big, ham hock-like hands.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I was to hear about Ellie’s accident. How is she?” Unfeigned concern carried in his voice.
“It’s too soon to tell,” Steven said, uncomfortably.
“Is it true, about her memory?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“If there’s anything I can do, please call me. I like Ellie. She’s one of those rarities in Washington, a nice person.”
“Thank you,” Steven said, and then introduced Canter to Carla, to whom he again offered his regrets, and his help.
Steven saw Pritman nod to him and start toward Xzi Tao. Steven’s stomach churned. It was time.
“Harry, would you look after Carla for me?” Steven asked the columnist.
The newsman followed the direction of Steven’s gaze. “On babysitting duty tonight?”
Without replying, Steven went after the senator. He caught Pritman just before the senator reached the Chinese delegation. “No specifics, Senator. Pleasantries and a hint of a future meeting that could be of immense benefit to both our countries is what we’re after.”
Pritman favored Steven with a patient and forbearing look. “I’ve been contending with dignitaries long enough to have learned how to say one thing and mean another. Don’t worry, Steven, I shan’t try to play at international diplomacy until I have the authority to do so, and,” Pritman added with a quick smile, “I shall remember that a Chinese name is surname first.”
They stopped a polite distance away from the State Department Chief of Protocol and Xzi to wait for the Chinese Ambassador to finish speaking with the British Ambassador. While they waited, the churning in Steven’s stomach worsened.
Xzi seemed not to have aged at all, except for a slight graying at his temples. His face was smooth and unlined. His eyes were bright and intelligent. He had maintained the slender physique Steven remembered, and his carriage was as proud now as it had been in Vietnam.
A few moments later, the British Ambassador bowed formally and stepped back. The Chief of Protocol motioned Pritman and Steven forward, and said, “Ambassador Xzi, may I introduce Senator Philip Pritman and his aide, Steven Morrisy.”
The Chinese aide translated rapidly. Xzi bowed politely to Pritman and spoke in Chinese.
“It is my great pleasure to meet you, Senator,” said his aide, translating the greeting into precise English.
“And mine to meet you, Ambassador,” Pritman replied, shaking Xzi’s hand.
Steven, staring at Xzi, wondered why he was using an interpreter. Xzi spoke English with a perfect upper class British accent.
The man from State stepped out of hearing distance as soon as he finished the introduction. When they were as alone as they could be in the huge crowd, Steven saw Xzi glance at him. He did not miss the hint of humor submerged in the Chinese Ambassador’s eyes.
Then Pritman, in opposition to his earlier diplomatic words to Steven said, “I was under the impression you spoke English quite well.”
Xzi’s aide stiffened and stepped forward. Xzi froze the aide with a sharp glare before saying, “At times I find it convenient not to understand another’s language, Senator. Something we were taught by our neighbors.”
Pritman nodded. “Yes, the Soviets do enjoy playing those games.”
“All in the name of diplomacy,” Xzi said. “And Mr. Morrisy. I have heard much about you and your endeavors in Washington.”
Steven, expecting something like this from Xzi, kept his features stoic and worked hard to speak in a smooth and level voice. “I didn’t realize I rated a dossier.”
Xzi laughed. “A habit of mine is to know the people with whom I must eventually deal. If I am not mistaken,” he added to the senator, “my country shall be dealing with you in the coming years.”
“I’ve indicated nothing to warrant that assumption,” Pritman said softly.
“It is our political analysts who see you in our future.”
“If such does happen, I hope it will be of benefit to both our nations, and to assure the security and sovereignty of our countries.”
“That would be my wish as well.”
“I am encouraged to hear so.”
Xzi suddenly switched to Chinese. His interpreter said: “Nations of greatness should consider all options. To rule out anything is to be foolish in the use of power and intellect.”
Without missing a beat, Pritman said, “I fully concur, Ambassador. I hope the remainder of your stay will be enjoyable, and I look forward to meeting you again.”
“I too look forward to such an event, Senator Pritman.” After his aide translated the last, Xzi gave another polite bow, turned to Steven, and spoke rapidly in Chinese.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Morrisy.” Steven did not reply; he bowed formally and turned away. Behind him, Steven found the reason for Xzi’s reversion to his native Mandarin. The Secretary of the Treasury and the White House Chief of Staff were waiting for their audience.
Away from the group, Pritman said, “He seems nice enough. Well educated. The file Arnold gave me was very good.”
It should be, Steven thought, Savak and he had put most of the information into it. Steven was sure that Savak had somehow gotten the rest from the CIA data bank. But he’d never told Steven exactly how.
The tension drained from his body. He had succeeded in keeping a calm front throughout their talk with Xzi. He should be proud of himself, but the acrid taste in his mouth brought on by his roiling stomach told him he had a long way to go before he would be able to talk with or look at Xzi without pain.
When Steven and Pritman reached Carla, Harry Canter was still with her.
“When will you announce?” Canter asked, pouncing like the true predator he was.
Pritman studied the columnist for a moment. “You sound very sure that
I will.”
“Senator, I’ve been in this town for thirty-eight years. I think I can be sure about you. I’d just like to know when?”
“Harry,” Steven cut in, but Pritman stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Harry, if I decide to run, you’ll be among the first to know.”
Canter laughed. “Along with the rest of the media.”
Pritman shrugged. “How do you feel about it?”
“About what, Senator?”
“My running, if I decide to?”
“Good,” Canter said. “I’d like to see you in a hard race for a change.”
“And why is that?”
“Why, Senator, to see what you’re really made of, of course.”
“If I throw my hat into the ring, Mr. Canter, I’ll make no promises at all.”
“That’s a novel approach, but somewhat naive.”
“Perhaps, but there is one thing I’ll damn well try to do—stop the world from eating itself up.”
“And how would you do that?” Canter asked quickly.
Pritman smiled broadly. “If I enter the race for my party’s nomination, and if I am nominated, you’ll be among—”
“—The first to know. Very good, Senator. Very good indeed. Steven, Miss Rogers.”
Alone again, Pritman looked at Steven. “I think I’d best make the rounds and go. I want to get some sleep tonight. Big day tomorrow.”
“Good idea, Senator. By the way, the items you want to question on the Scott-Wellborn bill are in my memo. Pay particular attention to sections eighteen and twenty. I don’t think they can hold up under constitutional scrutiny. Get the committee to accept your changes and the bill will work.”
“I’ll make sure they agree. Miss Rogers, if there is anything at all that I can do for Eleanor, call me. Steven, please give Miss Rogers my private numbers.”
“Thank you, Senator,” Carla said.
“Don’t thank me. Eleanor has been my right hand. No, hell, she’s been half my brain these last two years. I need her back.”
When the senator was gone, Carla turned to Steven, her expression one of surprise. “That wasn’t an act. He really meant that, didn’t he?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Pritman didn’t harm Ellie. He adores her.”
“I—”
Before Carla could go on, Steven’s beeper went off. He silenced it immediately. “Do you mind if we leave?”
“Not at all.”
While Carla retrieved her wrap from the coat checkroom, Steven went to the bank of phones, dialed his service, and learned the call was from Savak with an urgent call back request.
He jabbed sharply at the buttons on the phone. Carla reached him just as Savak answered. “Couldn’t you give me a chance to leave before reporting in?”
“It’s not that,” Savak said, his voice coarse. “Steven ...”
At the strained sound of his friend’s voice, Steven’s hand tightened around the receiver. “What Arnie? Is it Ellie?”
“Not Ellie. I...” Savak paused again, and Steven heard him take a deep breath. In the momentary silence, Steven’s nerves began to shriek.
Finally, Savak spoke again. “Banacek’s been trying to reach you. The FAA has made its initial determination. They found the remains of explosives and a detonator in the wreckage of Londrigan’s plane. Steven, this whole thing is getting crazier. Londrigan and Lomack were murdered.”
Chapter Fourteen
The only illumination on the dark road came from the headlights of the black Oldsmobile sedan. They were twenty miles outside of Washington, heading nowhere. Steven was behind the wheel of the Senate staff car that protocol required he use for tonight’s affair.
“You couldn’t have done anything about it,” Carla said, repeating what she’d told him shortly after he’d explained about Londrigan’s sabotaged plane.
Rationally, Steven understood he was blameless; but the more he thought about the deaths of his friends, the more certain he was they had died to destroy his alibi.
“Someone’s weaving a hell of a trap around me,” he stated as anger cleared the cobwebs from his mind. “First they tortured and tried to kill Ellie. But they didn’t do it right. Then Londrigan and Lomack were murdered because they would have been able to prove I was with them that night.”
“You don’t know that,” Carla cut in sharply.
“Yes, I do! You heard what Grange said about how it’s all leading to me. No, they’ll make their case now.” Steven hit the brakes hard, U turned the car, and headed back toward Washington. “Where are we going?”
“I want to see Ellie.”
He felt her eyes searching his shadowed face and sensed the question she wanted to ask. Instead of explaining, Steven took his wallet from the inside pocket of his tuxedo and handed it to Carla. “Joshua Raden’s card is in there, please get it out. “While Carla hunted for the doctor’s card, Steven picked up the cellular phone and dialed the operator. When she came on, he asked to be connected to the sheriff’s office in Greyton.
Steven thought about the search of his house in Pennsylvania, and remembered thinking he had seen Blayne waiting for him in front of his house the other night.
He looked in the rear view mirror, giving in to his growing paranoia. Seeing nothing but blackness behind him helped him to hold back this unwanted onslaught of anxiety.
A half a minute later, Banacek’s voice came over the speaker. “It’s Morrisy. What happened?”
Oddly enough, with Banacek’s easy going voice drumming in his ear, Steven grew calm. “The FAA people found plastique residue. The control cables and engine parts were rigged. The radio tampered with. That’s why Sam never radioed a distress call.
“The local police chief said that FBI Agent Blayne showed up requesting information and spouting his national security bullshit. Morrisy, what the hell are you involved in?”
“You still feel the same way about me that you did?”
“You didn’t hurt her, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s what I mean. Sheriff, I don’t have an answer for you, but I’m starting to get one hell of an idea. Thank you.”
“Morrisy, I’ll have to let the prosecutor know about this.”
“I understand, Sheriff. I’ll keep in touch,” he pressed the disconnect button and handed the phone back to Carla. “Call Raden.”
She dialed the number and gave Steven the phone. The doctor answered sleepily on the fourth ring.
“Joshua, its Steven Morrisy. I’m on my way to the hospital. Call the floor and let them know to admit us.”
“What is it?” Raden asked, his voice sounding fully alert.
“I need to see her. It’s important.”
“All right. I’ll meet you there myself and take you through.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“Yes it is. It’s midnight Steven. The hospital frowns on unauthorized visitors.”
Raden was waiting for them in front of the main entrance. After Steven parked the car at the curb, he and Carla joined the young doctor.
“Thanks for coming, Joshua,” Steven said. Raden waved off Steven’s words and led them past the security guard and into the hospital. They walked to the elevators, and rode up silently.
When they reached the door to Ellie’s room, Steven turned to Raden and Carla. “I’d like to be alone with her for a few minutes.”
Inside, alone with Ellie, he went to the side of the bed and gazed down at her. He took her hand between both of his and tried to warm her cool and unresponsive skin. He looked at her face, wanting only to see her eyes open and alert.
His throat constricted. He swallowed several times before he spoke. “They say you can’t hear me, Ellie, but I think you can. You know I love you, and I want to be with you. I don’t know if that will be possible any more. Ellie, this may be the last time I can come here. There are people who are saying I who tried to kill you, but we know better.”
He
paused, moistened his dry lips, and said, “I’ve done a lot of thinking about what’s happened to you, and to me. I also know that as long as the authorities think I tried to kill you, they won’t look for any other alternatives. The only way for me to help you…us, is for me to find out who did this to us. I know they won’t let you live. I should have seen that from the beginning, but I didn’t make the connection until tonight, when I found out they murdered Sam and Larry.
“Ellie, they were killed because they would have been able to clear me of trying to kill you. Whoever’s done this to you will not take the chance that you might recover and remember. Since I’m the only suspect, it falls on me to stop him from doing it again. I won’t be back until I do. It’s the only way I can protect you.”
He drew her hand to his mouth, and kissed the soft flesh. Suddenly, her hand tightened around his. He looked at her face. Her eyes were open. Her mouth was moving.
His heart pounded. He turned to the observation window. “Get in here. Get in here now!” he shouted.
He turned back to her, “Ellie, what is it?”
Her eyes were still open. Her hand was tight on his. Her lips were moving, but her voice was barely audible. He bent closer, straining intensely, but the words he was hoping to hear were only incoherent mumbling sounds.
Raden, Carla, and several nurses rushed in.
“She’s coming out of it. Damn it, Joshua look,” Steven ordered.
Raden didn’t look at Ellie; he looked at the monitors and the readout from the EEG. After studying the patterns for several seconds, he came over to Steven. Very gently, Raden peeled Ellie’s fingers from Steven’s. While Raden was loosening Ellie’s second finger, her muscles went limp and her hand dropped lifelessly back on the bed.
Raden probed Ellie’s eyes with a thin stainless steel flashlight. “It was an involuntary muscle reaction. It’s not unusual in cases like this,” he added as he straightened and faced Steven.
“But her eyes,” Steven stated, pointing to her open eyes. “And she spoke, Joshua. Damn it man, she spoke to me.”
Raden shook his head slowly. “All her vital signs are the same, except for the initial EEG burst when her muscles spasmed. She’s still in the coma. I’m sorry, Steven.”
