by David Wind
Carla scratched at her chin. “Okay, let’s say that I see where you’re leading, but if the countries signing the protection agreement are diametrically opposed politically...”
“It makes no difference.”
“You’re talking about China and Russia,” Carla stated.
“Or any communist or dictatorial country for that matter: Communism is a political entity, as is democracy. Like a democracy, politicians run communism. The basic difference is within a free democratic society, people have choices. In a communistic society, they dictate in the name of the people. But the people who do the dictating are not necessarily in agreement with what another communist country might consider their true political goals.”
“Such as the Soviet and Chinese governments.”
“Yes. Two countries having similar governmental ideologies, yet vastly different political goals. The Soviets want communism to be the only political belief of the world, with themselves at the governmental helm, of course. I believe, as do many theorists, the Chinese want to control their country, and guide other Asian nations, but do not necessarily want to spread their rule over other continents. So, in our vision of Entente, we would align a free democracy with a communist country at odds with another communist country, and theoretically have the ability to avert war on two fronts.”
“But can it be done?” Carla asked.
“If used properly, Entente will be the lever to ease the tensions of world aggression. I won’t say it’s not an extremely dangerous lever. The way Savak and I engineered the proposal, it’s intended as a means to make arms control viable.
“And it’s a hell of a Presidential platform to boot,” he added. “There would be no promises, just a willingness to meet with one’s enemies and to show strength by agreeing to certain things.”
“The public won’t go for it. They’ll look on it as a sign of weakness,” Carla argued.
Steven stood and walked slowly to the fireplace, following the same path Carla had taken moments before. He looked at the mementoes of his life, an ever-so-accurate trail of what had brought him to this point. He stared at the picture of the football team, and at the teenage faces of Lomack and Londrigan, and accepted the weight of sadness for their deaths.
He turned back to Carla. “Actually, it’s so damned feasible a proposal that someone is killing people and trying to sabotage it before it gets out. Carla, I think the Soviets are getting information about Entente and are afraid we’ll use it against them. The same thing is happening with the Chinese, which is most likely why they’re mobilizing along their borders.
“Someone learned of the Entente proposal and is using it to create worldwide hostilities so such a proposal could never take place.”
“That may well be true. But there is another scenario,” Carla said in a low voice.
Steven studied her, wondering if she had picked up the same thing he had. “Which is?”
“The opposite of your theory about the President, or someone on his staff, trying to set you up, so he can prevent Pritman’s nomination. Steven, what if the classified information being leaked to the Soviets—foreign policy decisions as well as your Entente proposal—is nothing more than a ploy to make the President look incompetent and assure Pritman the election?”
Holding her gaze, his respect for her increased.
“The only weakness in your theory is that Pritman hasn’t announced.”
“It’s a given, Steven. It has been for two years.”
“There’s much more involved. Even the attempt on Ellie’s life wasn’t what it appeared to be. It was another case of misinformation.”
When she remained silent after his newest revelation, Steven knew the time had come to explain everything. “Carla, the attempt to kill Ellie was a by-product of what’s happening. The blame for her would-be-death was set up and directed at me from the start. You see, I’m the person your mole wants out of the way. Ellie had the bad luck of discovering him at the wrong time, and she became the method to get rid of me.”
“Why?”
“That’s still the unknown aspect.”
“Then how are we going to learn who’s behind everything?”
“Possibly from the land listings I asked Banacek to get for me. It’s a long shot, but they held Ellie somewhere when they questioned and tortured her. I don’t think it was Washington; I think it was here. When we get the names of the property owners from Banacek, we’ll see if there are any familiar names. If not, we call the owners to see if their property was rented two weeks ago.”
He started back to the couch, but froze in midstride. With everything that had happened, he’d forgotten about his phone call to Savak their first night on the run. “Damn it,” he half shouted, “I’ve got to stop Pritman from going to the meeting.”
“What meeting?”
“I called Savak and had him push up Pritman’s meeting with the party brass. I told Savak to have Pritman explain the Entente proposal.”
Angry at himself for not having thought it through before calling Savak, Steven went to the phone and dialed his friend’s home number. He hoped he was wrong, prayed he was wrong about the unsettling doubts he felt about Savak. He tried to find an alternative to making the call, but knew there was none. His only link to Pritman was Savak. He had to trust his friend one more time.
When Savak answered, Steven said, “Arnie, get the Entente papers out of the senator’s safe. Don’t let him bring Entente into the meeting.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I can’t explain it, not yet. Just do it, Arnie.”
“Steven, you’re not making sense.”
“We can’t use Entente yet!” Steven half shouted.
“The hell we can’t! That’s why we created it. Steven, I did what you wanted. I brought the meeting forward after you told me to make sure Pritman got in and made his announcement. Pritman is in California now. He’s speaking tonight at the Press Club dinner. The party people will be there as well. He meets with them tomorrow evening, and he’ll announce his candidacy the following morning. He has the proposal with him.”
Steven pressed the inside corners of his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Arnie, get to Pritman—cancel the meeting.”
“I can’t. It’s too late.”
“Goddamn it Arnie, don’t argue with me! On our friendship, on everything we’ve been through, you must stop it.”
There was a moment’s silence before Savak’s voice came through the receiver sounding doubtful. “What’s wrong with it?”
“The only thing possible—Russia and China know about it!”
“There’s no way,” Savak said patiently.
Steven took a calming breath. He had to find a way to make his friend believe him. “It’s a fact. Why do you think Ellie almost died? It’s because she found someone on our staff leaking the information—to both sides. I’m the next victim. And then you, Arnie, because you’re the only other person who knows how to make Entente work.”
“My God, Steven, think about what you’re saying. Think about the way it sounds. No one but you, Pritman, and I know about Entente. And you can’t seriously think Pritman would—”
“I don’t know who it is, but I will. I came back to find out who. Get Pritman to cancel. And either get those papers into a safe, or destroy them.”
Steven felt Savak’s hesitation as if it were something physical. He wanted to scream at his friend, but held himself back. Finally, Savak said, “I’m scheduled on a morning flight to the coast. I’ll stop Pritman from bringing up Entente. Steven, if you’re wrong, it may cost us the election.”
“I’m not wrong. I only wish I were. Stop Pritman.” As he was about to hang up the phone, he thought about his car, and the way it had been bugged.
“One more thing, Arnie. When you had my Bronco driven to Washington, who drove it?”
“You mean the person’s name?”
“Exactly.”
“I haven’t the f
aintest idea,” Savak said, obviously puzzled at the tangent Steven had taken. “I called a service and made the arrangements for them to pick up the car at Greyton Memorial. I left the keys with Chuck.”
“I see,” Steven said. “Thank you Arnie, and please, do what I’ve asked,” he reiterated before hanging up.
“Will he do it?”
Steven turned to her. “I think he’ll have to. If what I believe is true, there’s no other choice. But he has to believe me first.”
“How’s the pain?” she asked, crossing the room toward him.
“It’s there.”
“I have to change the dressing again. And then I think you should get some sleep.”
Steven nodded. “We’ll sleep in shifts. We can’t take the chance of being caught by surprise.”
Her brow furrowed. “No one followed us.”
“As far as we were able to determine, no one followed us yesterday either. And no one knew we were going to see Xzi Tao,” he reminded her. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I keep coming back to the same thought. Whoever wants me dead has studied me. So we’ll have to take it for granted that when he can’t find me, he’ll come looking for me here.”
“Maybe...”
“No,” Steven said, looking deep into Carla’s eyes, “I’m counting on it.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
The sound of rain pulled Steven from sleep to consciousness. He looked out the window. The sun was out, the sky clear and blue. Then he realized it was the shower. Carla had relieved him on watch, at four. He’d taken two pills and fallen into a deep sleep. He was a little groggy from the codeine, and decided not to take any more. He needed to be in control from this point on.
He sat up. The pain had diminished a little, but he was stiff. His back was healing too, and the pressure of the bandages against his skin had eased. He swung his legs off the bed just as Carla came in. She was wearing his bathrobe.
“Hi,” she said with a smile. “I was coming to wake you before I got into the shower. How do you feel?”
“Better. What time is it?”
“Eleven. You were sleeping so soundly I thought it best if you got a little time. Coffee’s ready and Banacek hasn’t called.”
She spun out of the room. Steven stood and put on a pair of sweat pants. He went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.
Ten minutes later, as the shower went off, the phone rang. Steven stared at it suspiciously. He flashed back to the last time he’d had that same sense of apprehension.
Steven picked up the phone but did not speak. “It’s Banacek. I just talked to Irv Coleman. He’ll have the list ready after lunch.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll be there at one.”
“No “ Banacek said. “I think it would be better if I picked up the list and brought it out to you.”
“Why?” he asked, his sense of warning coming out strong.
“Seems your friend Blayne ran out of patience. I got an FBI advisory bulletin this morning. It says you’re armed and dangerous. They want you, Morrisy, any way they can get you.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Steven said. “I’ll wait for you.” Steven hung up and looked out the kitchen window. He was sure Pritman’s office received his letter of resignation and sure as well that Simon Clarke was breathing easier.
Obviously, Blayne hadn’t paid attention to the message he’d left. He could only pray this would end before the media caught on.
“Banacek?” Carla asked.
Steven glanced over his shoulder. Carla was standing in the doorway, her hair wet and tousled, lending a new softness to her features. The robe clung to her damp body.
“Yes. We’ll have the listing around one.”
The phone rang at a quarter after one. It was Banacek.
“Morrisy, there’s been a bad accident out on the Brynman Pike. I’m on my way there now. I don’t think I’ll be back before two or three. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go into town. I’ve already called Irv Coleman to let him know.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“You be extra careful. I haven’t seen any feds around, but you can’t always tell. Come into town the back way and use the side entrance to Irv’s office. He knows you’re coming. And Morrisy, I want to know if you come up with anything.”
“You will.” After hanging up, he explained the situation to Carla.
“I can go for you,” she said.
He shook his head hard. “They’ll be looking for you too. No, we’ll go together.”
Ignoring her continuing protests, Steven led the way to the car. He followed Banacek’s advice and, using the back streets leading to City Hall, they made the drive in fifteen minutes. Steven didn’t see anyone tailing them.
Before leaving the car, Steven double-checked the streets and those scant few people walking on them. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he and Carla left the car and went to the side door of City Hall.
Steven knocked twice. The city clerk unlocked the door, and motioned them in. Irving Coleman was a wizened old man with a fringe of white hair surrounding a speckled pate. The pince-nez glasses resting securely on the bridge of his nose, accented pale cheeks, bloodless lips, and an inherent attitude of propriety.
Coleman was sixty-two, according to all the records, yet he looked closer to seventy-two, which Steven knew he was. But as Banacek had said a week ago, Greyton looked after its own; and Irv Coleman had always been part of Greyton. Steven had dealt with Coleman many times in the past, when he’d been in private practice.
“Mr. Morrisy,” Coleman said, nodding his head but staring pointedly at Carla.
“Mr. Coleman,” Steven replied without introducing Carla. “You have something for me?”
Coleman handed Steven a large manila envelope. “Sheriff said to give these to you. Mighty irregular, this whole business.”
“Thank you,” Steven said, taking Carla’s arm and guiding her back outside and to the car.
When he got behind the wheel, he tapped the envelope on it thoughtfully. Gripped by an irrational fear, he made himself face the possibility that a friend of his was trying to kill him.
No, he thought, fear was the wrong word for what he felt. Whoever this person was, he was trying to do more than kill Steven, he was trying to destroy his dream. He would not permit that to happen.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Carla watching the sidewalk and the streets around them. He took a deep breath and opened the envelope. There were five sheets of green bar computer paper. He slid them out and looked at the title above the list of names, addresses, date of purchase, and property descriptions read ZONE 3407 POMPTON ESTATES.
Steven went down the list. He found what he was looking for on the third page. He shuddered with a gut wrenching sensation of disgust. He held his emotions in check while he went through the rest of the list.
Then he returned to the familiar name and stared at the address. Eleven Deer Walk Lane. He closed his eyes, but could not shake the name imbedded in his head.
He thought back to the beginning, and remembered the phone call. He pictured Ellie’s hospital room in Georgetown, and the large man who had been standing over her, doing something with the intravenous line.
“Who is it?” Carla asked.
Steven didn’t look at her; he handed her the list. A moment later, she said, “Chuck Latham? That doesn’t add up.”
Steven started the car and pulled away from the curb. “I know it doesn’t, but he’s the only one on the list who’s connected to me.”
Steven U-turned and drove the ten blocks to Greyton Memorial Hospital. Leaving Carla in the car to keep watch, he went to the front desk and asked for Latham. The receptionist told him that the doctor had taken a long weekend off, and wasn’t due on duty until late that afternoon.
He called Latham’s house from the hospital. There was no answer. He went back outside and stared at the rental car. Carla was sitting in the passenger seat, watching him.
Stev
en looked around. He’d grown up here, spent most of his life here, but now everything had become strange and alien. There had to be an explanation. Chuck Latham was not a killer.
Or was he?
Steven drove home in silence. Whenever the pain in his head would become too much, he leaned back in the seat and used the physical pain of his burn to relieve his emotional anguish. While he drove, he worked over the facts. Just because Latham owned a vacation house on Lake Pompton didn’t mean he was responsible for what was happening. The resort area was popular. Many people invested in property and rented it out every summer. Finally, Steven made himself stop rationalizing. He knew it was a pointless exercise. What he had to do was find out, one way or another, if Chuck Latham was involved.
He pulled to a stop in front of his house, and stared at the front door. Cursing himself for not leaving something to tell him if someone was there now or had been there, Steven shut off the ignition.
“Get your pistol out,” he said to Carla. She eyed him silently, and drew her weapon from her purse. “Just in case,” he added as he pulled the Beretta from his belt.
They went to the door together. He tested it, and found it locked. He motioned for Carla to go around one side of the house, while he went around to the other. He moved slowly, searching the ground, bushes, and exterior of the house. When he met Carla in the back, neither had found footprints. No window appeared jimmied.
They returned to the front, where he unlocked the door and they slipped in. He held the weapon outstretched. The room was empty. With Carla acting as backup, he searched the rest of the house before he felt safe enough to lower the weapon and put on its safety.
“What now?” Carla asked, taking off her coat.
“We find out if Chuck rents out the lake house, and if he does, if it has been rented lately.” Steven went to his desk and took out the phone book. He rifled through it, until he found what he wanted.
Pointing to the listing, he said, “Joanne Freeland is the largest real estate agent in Greyton. She handles most of the rental properties. Give her a call. Ask about renting Chuck’s property.”
