“So you’re telling me not to get used to your assistance,” Justin said. And Wanda Chinkle nodded emphatically.
Stuller then ran through the rest of the story.
Justin had basically been correct in his assumptions and his conclusions. He’d just miscalculated on a couple of the players.
Stuller had been part of Midas. He’d been brought into the SPE because of his long ties to Phil Dandridge. There was nothing illegal about that, Stuller said, and he’d felt no compunction about making money from EGenco or his old friend’s connections. It was a legitimate business deal, his holdings had been placed in a blind trust, and he would defend his decision to this day to participate.
But he hadn’t known anything about the manipulation of oil prices. That was Dandridge. That was just pure greed.
Justin had been wrong, too, about President Anderson. The outgoing president had been duped and betrayed by his closest advisers, he was guilty of naiveté and stupidity, but not of criminal behavior. His administration would now go down as the most corrupt in American history, but his punishment would probably have to come from future judgment, not from the legal system.
Dandridge’s situation was a little trickier. Stuller intended to prosecute him on several levels of financial fraud and misappropriations of government funds. There was no question he’d arranged for no-bid contracts for EGenco and violated the trust of the American people with his fraudulent energy policies. Morally it was repellent, but it was a vague and gray area of the law. Stuller said he’d already begun conversations with the vice president and with Stephanie Ingles and it was clear that, whatever their crimes, they had not instigated the violence or terrorist activity, although the attorney general believed that Dandridge had figured out what was going on somewhere along the line and had decided to do nothing about it. The man was not just weak, he was corrupt, and he belonged in prison, Stuller said, the disgust resonating in his words, but he wasn’t sure if he could put him there. Stuller told Justin he might have to settle for Dandridge’s and Ingles’s resignations and some form of plea bargain, along with his testimony about Midas and Ackland.
Ackland had already been arrested. Stuller had arranged that immediately after Justin left the Waldorf hotel suite. If Stuller had his way, Ackland would not just spend the rest of his life behind bars, he’d receive the death penalty.
Justin asked a few questions and Stuller gave him further background on his investigation.
Ackland had been made a Midas partner at the very beginning when the deal was structured. That was Dandridge’s choice. It was a reward for loyal service—and an attempt to ensure future service. But Ackland was more concerned with his future than anyone could have foreseen.
It was Ackland who first realized what would happen if Hutchinson Cooke talked and EGenco came tumbling down. Since it was all coming out of Justice, Ackland was privy to all the levels of the investigation; it was not difficult for him to circumvent it.
Dandridge had arranged for Cooke to fly for EGenco and Midas. But it was Ackland who’d arranged for Mudhi al Rahman’s release from Gitmo; it was Ackland who had drawn Cooke into flying Mudhi first to Washington and then to the East End airport. Chuck Billings had been right about the cargo. In addition to the Saudi radical, the small plane had transported Semtex that Cooke had picked up in Colombia before flying to Guantanamo. He hadn’t known exactly what he was involved in, but after the Harper’s bombing he’d quickly figured it out. He’d contacted Ackland, whom he’d trusted. It was a poor choice of allies. Ackland had immediately arranged for the pilot’s murder.
It was Ackland who’d conceived of the scheme to use Mudhi to destroy anyone who could have cut into Midas’s profits, and simultaneously to terrorize the country.
Ackland had realized that Dandridge was going to lose the election. And Ackland wanted the vice presidency. Not just the nomination. He wanted to win.
He knew if Dandridge’s Midas manipulations came to light, both of their careers were over. So he killed two birds with one stone. No one was around to blow the whistle on Midas. And Dandridge’s popularity soared in the midst of the nation’s fear.
After Harper’s, it was not difficult to repeat the process.
And when he realized his hand could be overplayed, Ackland arranged for the scenario he’d created to come to an end: the decimation of what he claimed was the key terrorist group.
The murder of Mudhi al Rahman was meant to close the circle cleanly and permanently.
Except that Justin had gotten in the way.
Money and power, Justin thought. Nothing new, nothing different. The world will end over a battle for money and power.
When it was over, Stuller asked if Justin had any further questions. Justin said that he had a few.
“What about Hubbell Schrader?” he asked. “How did he get involved?”
“Ackland,” Stuller said. “Ackland drew him in slowly, got him appointed head of the New York bureau, which is quite a prestigious position. I’m sure Ackland promised him a shot at being head of the entire Bureau. And Ackland manipulated the man’s sense of patriotism. I believe that Agent Schrader was convinced he was doing something for the good of the country.”
“An awful lot of damage is done for the good of the country,” Justin said.
Stuller said nothing. Justin knew the attorney general’s political beliefs, knew what a hard-line patriot he was, and knew how torturous it must be for him to accept what had happened. The men he was bringing down weren’t just his friends, they were the core of his political and philosophical foundation. But Stuller was able to put his politics aside in this instance. Honesty and a commitment to his public duty had managed to win whatever ideological battle had to have gone on within him.
“It was Schrader who killed Billings, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Stuller said. “We can prove that.”
“And Ray Lockhardt, too?”
“I believe so. But I have no conclusive proof yet. We’re still working on it, although I don’t know what kind of priority it will receive, now that Schrader’s dead. Anything else?”
Justin hesitated. And Stuller noticed.
“Is there something else you need to know?” the attorney general asked.
“I’m not sure,” Justin told him. “But I’d like to reserve one last favor if I need it.”
“What is it?”
“If I need some further information, I’d like to be able to get it from Agent Chinkle. I just need to ask a few questions before bothering her again.”
“Let it rest, Jay,” Wanda said. “It’s over.”
“Probably,” he said. “But if I need you to run something for me, I’d like to know I can do it.”
When neither of them answered, Justin said, “Then let me ask you something right now.” He turned to Wanda, waited until she met his gaze head-on, and said, “You arranged for me to get out of Gitmo.”
She nodded and said, “I helped.”
“How?” he asked.
“I went to the attorney general. Told him what had happened, that Ackland had ordered you to be picked up. Attorney General Stuller intervened directly, made it clear that there was a lot of political pressure being applied and that if you did not emerge unscathed there would be repercussions.”
“Unscathed. You mean alive? They would have killed me otherwise, once they found out what they needed to know?”
“Yes.”
“So they let me go after that.”
“Yes,” Wanda said quietly.
“But not immediately after that.”
Neither Wanda nor Stuller spoke.
“You let them keep me down there,” Justin said to Wanda. “You let them keep me until you needed me back.”
Wanda turned away from him, could no longer look him in the eye. “Yes,” she said. “You told me once that good cops are the ones that make the right connections. And I know you’re a good cop.”
“So you let them keep me there . . .�
��
“. . . until I knew you’d figure it out. And would have to help us out.”
“Until you could play me and send me in to do your dirty work, to set up Ackland and Schrader.”
She nodded stiffly. Her mouth was too dry to speak.
Justin held his gaze until her head hung even lower, then he turned back to the attorney general. “About that favor I might be needing,” he said.
“Agent Chinkle will be available for that,” Jeff Stuller said, and his words were meant for both of them.
“Then I’d like to get the hell out of here,” Justin told him.
“One more thing,” Stuller said. “There is going to be an unprecedented uproar when this becomes public. There are going to be resignations and prison terms. The future course of the country will in all likelihood be altered.”
“Is this a question or a statement?”
“It’s a question. I’d like to know what your involvement will be. Will you be talking to the media? You could be lionized as quite the hero. And you can reveal things I’m not positive yet that I wish to reveal. I’m also sure you will be able to capitalize on this financially if you want.”
“Do you have a preference?” Justin asked.
“I’m sure you’re aware of my preference,” Stuller responded. “But I have no right to impose that upon you.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Justin said. “My preference is to keep as quiet as possible. I’d like no one to ever even know I was involved.”
Stuller nodded, relieved.
“Unless,” Justin said, and Stuller immediately stiffened. “Unless you screw up. Unless I think these scumbags aren’t getting what they deserve to get.”
“And then you talk?”
“And once I start it’s really hard to shut me up.”
Jeff Stuller stuck his hand out awkwardly. Justin Westwood shook it.
And then he asked if Wanda would call for the nurse. The friendly redhead, not the scary brunette. He said he wanted a little more morphine. That as long as he was going to spend the rest of the day there, he might as well enjoy it.
Justin was released the next day and spent the two days after that sleeping. The pain wasn’t bad, he was just exhausted. Drained. He barely ate, and he moved as infrequently as possible. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t crave alcohol. His system wanted to be left alone. By everything. And everyone.
He spoke to Reggie on the phone several times but he needed to be apart from her, too, just now. She obviously felt the same way. What they’d shared in the Southampton mansion had been too intense, both intimate and redolent of mortality, and neither of them wanted to relive it just yet. So Reggie went to work and ran the East End station, still in her position of interim chief, and Justin stayed home, sleeping and thinking and listening to music.
On the third day, he called Gary Jenkins and asked him to bring over some reports that Justin had been keeping in his desk at the station. Gary asked if there was a rush, he was heading out to lunch, and Justin said no rush whatsoever. So Gary showed up around two and handed over the folders.
Justin read through the report he wanted to focus on. When he was done, he took a bath, filling the tub with only a few inches of water—his bandages still prevented him from showering—and got dressed. Then he drove toward the East End airport, turning onto a side street about half a mile before the airport entrance. The street had been cut into the surrounding woods. A strange location, Justin thought. It didn’t look natural. It seemed as if nature should close back in on the new, pristine houses and swallow them up.
He pulled into the driveway of the third pristine house on the left and knocked on the door. He spent fifteen minutes inside talking to the owner, had a glass of water, and asked a few questions. All very easy and pleasant. Then he left.
At five o’clock he knocked on the door to Leona Krill’s office.
“Justin,” she said, “this is a surprise.”
He gave her the friendliest smile he could muster.
They chatted for a few moments, he gave her some of the details of what had transpired in Guantanamo. Attorney General Stuller had called the mayor to tell her that Justin had been cleared of any and all accusations, that he had, in fact, acted in heroic fashion. She told Justin that she’d been asked not to talk about the matter further with him, so instead they discussed the arrest of Ted Ackland—the entire country was discussing the arrest of Ackland and the emerging scandal—but Justin gave no indication that he knew anything more than he’d read or seen on television. Leona asked when he’d be returning to work and he told her he thought it might be as soon as tomorrow. She said she was glad.
Justin said good-bye, stood up, and then said, “Oh, by the way, I do have one question for you.”
He asked it, a question he should have asked a long time ago, and she gave him the answer. He told her he’d definitely be returning to work the next day.
He had one last thing to do before nighttime.
Justin called Wanda, said he was cashing in the favor he’d requested. He could hear the shame in her voice, her awareness of the way she’d crossed the line and altered their relationship forever, but all she said was, “Okay, what do you want to know?”
“I want the ME’s report on Hubbell Schrader.”
“What the hell for, Jay? Christ, you saw what happened. Your girlfriend saved your bacon.”
“You want to fax it to me or e-mail it?” he asked.
She sighed. “Check your e-mail in ten minutes,” Wanda told him. And after a brief hesitation, she said, “And Jay. I . . . I . . .”
“I know,” he said. “You were doing your job.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I might have done the same thing,” he told her.
Neither of them said anything after that, they both wondered in silence whether what he said was true, and then they hung up.
That night, Reggie came over for dinner. He was staggered when she walked in the door. She wore a short black dress that clung tightly to her body. Instead of her scuffed boots or heavy work shoes, she wore an elegant pair of high heels. Despite the cold, she wasn’t wearing stockings. He could see little shivers of goose bumps running down her legs.
She kissed him before she even took her coat off, and he responded. They sat together on the couch and he poured a glass of red wine for each of them. He’d had the bottle for quite some time, a ’90 Haut-Brion.
“What’s for dinner?” she murmured.
He answered, “It depends.”
She smiled and said, “On what?”
And Justin said, “Tell me about Ray Lockhardt.”
Her eyes squinted in confusion. “You want to talk about that now?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I was thinking this was going to be a little more romantic than that.” When he didn’t answer, she shrugged and said, “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“You interviewed a witness who saw a car parked on the road to the airport.”
“I’d hardly call him a witness. He bicycled past a car on his way home.”
“Your report says he ‘turned off the road on his way home.’”
“Okay. It probably does. So what?”
“It’s just odd phrasing. ‘Turned off the road’ is something you’d say if you saw it happen. It’s not a usual way of describing something.”
“I’m sure that’s just the way he told it to me. What are you trying to say, Jay, that I didn’t do my investigation properly?”
“No,” he said. “You did a really good job.”
The silence lingered between them. He broke it by saying, “I spoke to the witness, Reggie. It wasn’t exactly the way you wrote it up.”
“What did I get wrong?”
“He had a pretty good memory of the car he saw.”
“Did he?”
“The way he described it, it could have been your car.”
“What?”
“I talked to Leona to
day, too. I realized I’d never asked her who gave you such a good recommendation for the job.”
The expression on Reggie’s face didn’t change all that much. Just a little. “Oh?”
“I never would have thought to ask. Except when I met with Ted Ackland he said something that struck me.”
“What was it?”
“He was talking about possibly getting the vice presidential nomination. He said, ‘Not bad for a cop from Wisconsin.’ Just made me think. Suddenly I knew two people from Wisconsin.”
Reggie didn’t speak or move.
“Leona didn’t speak to him directly, she told me. But it was someone from Ackland’s office who recommended you. Who called her out of the blue and urged her to hire you. They needed someone on the inside. Someone to keep an eye on me.”
“Jay . . .”
“It was Schrader who gave it away. It happened so fast and I tried to drive it out of my mind, but . . . he was so damn confident that you weren’t going to shoot him. At first I thought he was too arrogant, or he was bluffing, or maybe he thought it because you were a woman. Then I realized no, he was way too much of a pro to take things that lightly. It was because he knew you. It was because he’s the one who told you to kill Ray Lockhardt.”
“Jay . . . you have to listen to me . . .”
“I went over the timing and it all worked out. You could have done it before you came over here that first time. Maybe it’s one of the reasons you were so upset. Killing can do that to some people. Then I got the FBI forensic report back, for the work done on Schrader. You shot him with a .38. The same gun that was used to kill Lockhardt.”
The silence was stifling. Reggie raised a finger to her eye. Justin wasn’t sure if it was a nervous response or if she was brushing away a tear. “I was recruited by the FBI,” she said quietly. “By Ackland. When I was still in Milwaukee. I didn’t know what was going on, I swear to God. They told me it was a question of national security . . . I was working for the FBI and doing my job. That’s what I thought.”
“The night we made love the first time,” Justin said, “the night they picked me up and took me away . . . That’s why you went back to your house, wasn’t it? To tell them that you could keep me here.”
Midas Page 36
