Hell's Corner (35 page)
“I’m afraid my German is very poor,” said Friedman.
“Excuse us,” said Annabelle. “That was very rude.”
“You Europeans speak so many languages. Makes us Americans feel quite inept.”
“Your country is big, ours are small,” said Annabelle. “Language skills are a necessity. But your French is very, um, nice.”
“How can I help you?”
“We are in need of a presence, a footprint I think you call it, here
in Washington. We want to build a factory producing our goods in the United States. We also have IP patent and licensing issues that need political addressing.” Annabelle paused. “Is that the proper term? Political addressing?”
“Lobbying, I think,” commented Caleb. “And friends in high places.”
“I can certainly handle these matters for you,” said Friedman. “I have relations with many government people, and energy is one of my specialties. Can I ask how it was you came to me?”
Caleb looked embarrassed. “I’m very much afraid it had nothing to do with your reputation, stellar though I’m sure it is.”
Annabelle added, “We based it on proximity.” She pointed out the window.
Friedman followed her motion. “The White House?” She smiled. “Interesting due diligence. But I guess that’s one reason I settled on this space.”
“But then we also checked the records for your client list. It was very impressive and very much in our area of necessity,” remarked Annabelle.
Caleb leaned forward and tapped his cigarette on the carved wood of Friedman’s desk. “But it would be helpful if you could tell us a bit of your background. We want to get this right. Our business model shows a clear path to a multibillion euro, or dollar, rather, revenue point. We must start on a firm foundation. It is imperative.”
“Of course.” Friedman gave them an account of her background, education and work experience and items with which she could help them.
As the meeting ended she said, “For the sort of work you require I would imagine a ten-thousand-dollar-a-month fee. Understand this is applied to work done under our normal fee structure. For work outside that scope, more monies will be due. It’s all explained in our standard fee agreement.
“Of course,” said Annabelle. “That seems logical.”
“Where in Germany are you from?”
“Berlin. But I grew up elsewhere.”
“Oh, really? Where was that?”
“Many places,” said Annabelle abruptly.
Caleb added, “Quite cosmopolitan. And secretive she is.”
“Nothing wrong with that in today’s world where everyone is watching everyone else,” Friedman said in a light tone.
“We’ll be in touch,” said Annabelle. “
Auf Wiedersehen.
”
“Ciao,” added Caleb.
J
UST IN CASE THEY WERE FOLLOWED,
Annabelle and Caleb drove first to a restaurant and then to a hotel. They rode the elevator up and Annabelle opened the door to her room. Stone and Chapman were sitting there waiting for them.
They gave the pair a detailed briefing of their meeting with Friedman.
“Do you think she suspects anything?” asked Chapman.
“If she’s really that good she suspects everything,” answered Annabelle as Stone nodded in agreement.
“She obviously has a functioning lobbying business,” said Annabelle.
“We knew from her client list and checking out her history that she had that set up,” said Stone. “But that does not preclude her having a sideline.”
Chapman added, “Or from the lobbying being her cover and spying being her main occupation.
Annabelle ran a hand through her hair and pulled off her wig. “Any idea what her angle might be?”
“As I told you, we suspect she might be involved with some plan being headed up by American intelligence.”
“And that’s why she was at the park that night?” asked Caleb.
Stone nodded. “Exactly. The man I’ve had Harry following was potentially her contact. It’s just my theory. None of it is confirmed yet.”
“And the man Harry is following? What’s going on with him?”
“It’s up to us to find out.”
“Through Friedman?”
“Yes. But without her knowledge. I certainly don’t trust her.”
“But how does this tie into the bombing?” asked Caleb.
“I don’t know if it does,” admitted Stone. “It could be that it was a coincidence they were both there that night. How did you leave it with her?”
“That we’d be in touch,” said Annabelle.
“So what has this really accomplished?” asked Chapman. “I mean, I know you blokes are good at this, but this leaves us nowhere to go with her.”
“Actually, it does,” said Annabelle. She opened her bag, slipped open a hardshell plastic case and they saw the impression of a key set in a mold. “Got her office key out of her purse when Caleb asked her to show him the painting in the foyer while I excused myself to use the ladies’ room. I can have an actual key made in no time.”
Caleb said, “She has a security system.”
Annabelle added, “But the keypad is by the front door. We watched the office last night. Friedman was the last to leave at seven and she keyed in the number. I got it on my camera from where I was in the park pretending to take pictures of the statues.”
Chapman looked at Stone. “So we’re breaking into her place?”
“Not you. I am.”
“Why not me?”
“You’re too official.”
“You’ve got a badge too.”
“I’ve always seen that status as temporary. You, on the other hand, are a lifer.”
“When are you going to do it?” asked Chapman.
“Why?”
“So I can tell the cops to be waiting for you.”
Annabelle scowled at her. “Whose side are you on, lady?”
“But if you let me go, I won’t call anyone,” offered Chapman.
Stone said, “I don’t like it.”
“You keep preaching about partners and loyalty.”
“Okay,” Stone finally said. “You and me.”
Annabelle started to protest. “But—”
Stone put a hand on her shoulder. “Please, Annabelle, just let it go.”
Caleb said, “But we did all the hard work and you two get to have the fun of burglarizing the place.”
This made Annabelle smile. “You’ve come a long way, Mr. Librarian. And by the way, I really dug your metrosexual look when we paid Friedman a visit.”
Caleb brightened. “Thank you. I’ve always thought that—” He started and looked at her. “Metro what?”
“Good luck,” Annabelle told Stone. She turned to Chapman. “Watch his back, and I mean it.”
“I will,” promised Chapman.
Stone and Chapman walked briskly down the street. Stone was in a suit and carried a briefcase. Chapman was in a skirt and heels with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She carried a large bag. They walked through the park and over to Jackson Place and Stone inserted the key in the door of Marisa Friedman’s office. They went inside and Chapman punched in the code on the security keypad and the beeping stopped. Stone closed the door behind them and moved forward into the office space.
There was enough ambient light from outside to allow them to see their way around, though Chapman did bump her leg against a desk.
“According to Annabelle, Friedman’s office is up the stairs and at the rear,” she said as she rubbed her thigh.
An hour later they stood facing each other, the failure evident on their features.
Stone perched on the edge of Friedman’s desk and looked around. They had gone through all the paper files, but Stone figured many things would be kept on the computers. But the system was password-protected, and while they had tried a few, nothing worked.
“Any brilliant ideas?” asked Chapman.
“No. We should’ve had Harry come with us. He probably could’ve gotten into the computer.”
“We should probably get out of here.”
They moved back down the stairs. Stone saw it first, out the window. He rushed to the keypad and armed the system and then
pulled Chapman into an interior office on the first floor of the suite.
A few moments later the door opened and the security system’s beep went off. Marisa Friedman hit the appropriate keys and the beeping stopped. She shut the door behind her and climbed the stairs.
Stone edged open the door and peered out, Chapman at his shoulder.
“Do we leave now while she’s occupied?” said Chapman.
“No, we wait.”
Twenty minutes passed, then he and Chapman heard steps coming back down and Stone eased the door shut. They listened to the security system being set and a few seconds later the door closed.
Stone counted to five and then looked out.
“It’s clear. Let’s go.”
They managed to open and close the door during the delay of the security system arming.
“There!” said Chapman, pointing to the north where Friedman was just about to turn the corner at the Decatur House.
“Oliver? Agent Chapman?”
They turned to see Alex Ford standing there watching them. “What are you two doing here?”
“What are
you
doing here?” blurted out Chapman.
“I’m on perimeter security duty, if it’s any of your business,” retorted Alex. He looked at Stone. “Oliver?”
“I’m sorry, Alex, no time. I’ll explain later.”
Stone grabbed Chapman’s arm and they hurried off, leaving Alex to gape after them.
“She’s getting in a cab,” said Chapman a minute or so later.
“Not a problem.” Stone hailed another cab that passed by a few moments later. They climbed in and Stone showed his badge and instructed the driver to follow the other vehicle.
The cab turned down one street and then another, steadily making its way west.
“This is looking familiar,” said Stone.
“What?” asked Chapman.
“George Washington University. She could have walked. It’s a nice evening.”
“Do you know where she’s going?” asked Chapman.
“I believe so, yes.”
“So spill it,” Chapman said in exasperation.
The cab pulled to the curb. They watched as Friedman got out.
“She’s going to see Fuat Turkekul,” said Stone.
“How do you know that?” demanded Chapman.
“Because that’s the same building where I met with him.”
“Well, let’s go see what they’re up to.”
At that instant an SUV screeched in front of their cab and two more behind. Before they could react, they were surrounded by armed men. Stone and Chapman were pulled from the vehicle and pushed into one of the SUVs, and it started moving before they could even catch their breath. As Stone looked back he saw Marisa Friedman staring after them. She’d obviously played her part to perfection in setting him up. And yet her features didn’t speak of triumph. She actually looked a little sad, Stone thought.
Twenty minutes later they were hurried into a building that looked abandoned. Up dimly lit steps to a door. Through the doorway and then another. They were pushed into seats and the men with guns left, shutting the door behind them. The lights came on and someone moved at the front of the room.
Adelphia sat there, her hands in her lap.
Riley Weaver looked extremely upset.
Sir James McElroy simply seemed intrigued.
W
EAVER SAID
, “W
HAT THE HELL
are we going to do with you guys? You keep popping up like a really shitty penny.”
McElroy put his elbows on the table and made a steeple with his hands. “How did you get onto Marisa Friedman?”
Stone said, “She was really the only one left.”
“And you deduced where she was going?”
“To see Turkekul.”
McElroy glanced at Weaver and then at Adelphia.
Stone said to McElroy, “So this is why you wouldn’t answer my earlier question, after I found out about your connection with him?”
“You mean whether I was withholding anything else from you? In my defense, I came to this a bit late in the game, and the more we delved into it, the more tangled it became. I have to say that this is the most intense chess match of my career, Oliver. It really is. I hope I’m up to the challenge.”
Stone turned to Weaver. “And are you up to the challenge?”
Weaver flushed. “We’re doing the best we can under very difficult circumstances. One little misstep and we blow everything out of the water. That’s what you almost did tonight.”