The Washington Lawyer (27 page)

“I don't want to turn myself in. The police might hold me indefinitely.”

“You're right. It seems crazy but some zealous prosecutor might even charge you with manslaughter. You never know. Here's what I think you should do. Tonight, don't leave my house. Tomorrow morning, I'll buy you some clothes. Funky ones. Change your look. Then I'll take you to a nearby hair salon. Friend of mine runs it. He'll change your appearance and color your hair. He'll dye your hair blonde. Make you look like Vanessa. You're already pretty close except for the hair. After that, we'll look at Vanessa's diaries. Those may give us an idea of how to proceed.”

“Why can't we start tonight?”

She yawned.

“That's why. You hardly slept last night. You have to be fresh for this.”

“What about your firm work?”

“I'm drafting a brief for Andrew Martin. I can do it at home.”

She looked at him skeptically.

“Don't worry, I have it under control.”

“You're taking a risk helping somebody the police are looking for.”

“I'll take it. You've been swept up in something horrible. You need help. You can't fight this alone. Besides, I like you, Allison. And when I like people, I want to help them.”

Thank God, she thought with relief.

When they finished eating, Allison said, “I'll clean up. You did all the cooking.”

“No. You're exhausted. Go to sleep. We'll get to work in the morning.”

“Okay.”

She stood up and as she did, the drawstring gave way. His warm-up pants dropped to the floor, exposing her naked bush.

She blushed.

He smiled. “Well. Well.”

Embarrassed, she pulled up the pants, held them, and said, “Good night, Paul, and thanks for everything.”

* * *

Xiang's bandaged nose ached. He was sitting in his office in the Embassy, anxiously waiting for Han to call when a secretary burst into the room. “The ambassador wants to see you immediately.”

The ambassador, a trim gaunt man, a supporter of Deng in his youth, was sitting behind his desk with a scowl on his face. As soon as he saw Xiang, he shot to his feet and shouted angrily, “What are you trying to do to me and our country? You useless piece of dog shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your assistant, Han, was killed. He was chasing a woman on a Metro platform. When he caught her, they were fighting. She pushed him onto the tracks and an incoming train killed him.”

Xiang couldn't believe this.

“He was chasing this woman on assignment for you. Wasn't he?”

“Yes,” Xiang said weakly.

The ambassador pointed to Xiang's face. “I assume you were injured in the same operation.”

Xiang nodded.

The ambassador shook his head in dismay. “You're both incompetent. Han stupidly had his ID in his wallet, showing him to be a member of the embassy staff. Don't you tell your people anything?”

“That was a mistake,” Xiang conceded.

“Everything you do is a mistake. The only good news is that after talking with the state department the Washington police refused to release Han's name or to inform the press he was a member of our staff. Even that is not so good because I have been summoned to the state department tomorrow for a meeting at two in the afternoon with Secretary of State Jane Prosser herself. What would you like me to tell her? That I have this fuckup Xiang on my staff who has embarrassed me and the Chinese government? Should I kiss her ass and ask her to convince the Washington police to call off their investigation?”

Xiang didn't know what to say.

Red-faced, the ambassador continued his diatribe. “I intend to use my secure phone which runs directly to Beijing and call Minister Liu. I will ask him to order you back to Beijing before the Americans find out about you. Liu will throw you into one of his prisons for enemies of the state.”

Xiang was shaking with fear as he watched the ambassador reach for the red phone, embodying the latest encrypted technology, which they were confident the Americans could not break. When he got Minister Liu, he put the phone on speaker.

In succinct sentences, the ambassador explained what happened at the Metro station and his summons to the state department. At the end, he said, “I want you to recall this fool Xiang immediately, before the Americans grab him and imprison him.”

Xiang held his breath, waiting to hear what Liu said.

After a moment, Liu replied, “Xiang, was Han's work concerned with the matters you recently discussed with me in Beijing?”

“Yes, sir, it was.” Xiang decided to keep his words vague. He was aware that the ambassador knew in general about Operation Trojan Horse, but perhaps not about Jasper's supply of information, or Vanessa's death. “The woman involved was the sister of the dead woman.”

“Did you order Han to pursue this woman?”

“No sir. I didn't. She ran away and he went after her before I had a chance to stop him. It's my fault. I'm truly sorry.”

Liu then said to the ambassador, “Xiang is acting as my personal representative in a matter of extreme importance to the People's Republic. How dare you question his actions? By questioning him, you question me.”

“But …” the ambassador said.

“Don't you dare question me.”

Xiang understood what was happening.

He was a pawn in one more incident in the never-ending conflict between the Chinese Foreign Ministry, for whom the ambassador worked, and MSS, Liu's agency. The latter almost always had the upper hand.

“It is your job as ambassador,” Liu continued as if he were talking to a child, “to deal with the American State Department to avoid any damage. And to avoid having Xiang arrested in the United States. Now Xiang, tell me what has happened on this matter since you returned to Washington from Beijing.”

Xiang told him in detail, ending with the Metro incident. Though his nose ached, Xiang was embarrassed to tell Liu that Allison had broken his nose. Instead, he reiterated that Han raced after Allison on his own and again said, “I'm very sorry for this entire incident.”

“Han behaved foolishly,” Liu said. “But the ambassador will find a way to smooth it over with the Americans. Won't you?”

“Yes,” was the grudging response.

“Now Xiang,” Liu continued, “I want to come back to the important issue—Jasper and the CD. What is the status?”

Xiang selected his words carefully, dropping them like pebbles into a lake.

“I now believe there is no CD. That mentioning it by Vanessa was a bluff to blackmail Jasper. To force him to marry her.”

“How sure are you there never was a CD?”

Xiang hesitated for a moment while he thought about the facts. Both he and Allison had looked everywhere Vanessa might have concealed it.

“I'm certain,” he said.

“Would you bet your life on it?”

Xiang didn't dare show weakness, or it would undercut his position.

“Yes sir,” he said with a confidence he didn't feel.

“Your parents' lives?”

What a question. Liu was a monster. Still, he couldn't bend. “Yes sir.”

“For your sake and theirs, I hope you are correct.”

Xiang didn't respond.

“And if you are,” Liu continued, “that changes the dynamic. I do not want you to pursue Allison any longer.”

That disappointed Xiang. He wanted to get even with her for what she had done to him. How to express his disagreement with Liu without appearing to challenge the Minister?

“But if we continue pursuing Allison, we might be able to stop her from finding out whom her sister was with in Anguilla. If she does and reveals it, Jasper could lose his reelection, and that would cost us a valuable asset.”

“True, but with everything that's happened, working with Jasper is too risky. Once he gives you the five-year plan, I'll want you to terminate Jasper.”

Xiang didn't know what Liu meant by terminate. End the relationship or kill the senator. Expecting Liu to clarify, Xiang didn't ask.

Liu continued, “Besides, we're not hurt unless the CD appears. Jasper would go down alone. Suppose the press gets hold of his weekend tryst with Vanessa. He wouldn't dare disclose what he has given us. That would lead to life in prison for him. So, he wouldn't drag us down with him. This Allison is tough. I don't want to risk having a second agent—you or one of your other people exposed like Han. That would create a much more serious problem for us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, let's talk about Jasper. You told me that he promised to give you the plan on Monday, the day after next.”

“Correct. When he hands it over to me, he expects me to deliver the CD to him.”

“So
you
have a problem because the CD doesn't exist.”

Now it's
my
problem, Xiang thought. “One possibility when I meet Jasper on Monday is to persuade him that with all my efforts, I established the CD doesn't exist. He should be sufficiently relieved that he'll still give me the document.”

“But he might not.”

“I could offer additional money. An extra payment.”

“And if that still doesn't work, I want you to seize the document from Jasper by force if necessary. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but doing that could effectively sever our relationship with Jasper.”

“Of course, I realize that. You insult me.”

“I didn't mean …”

“Getting the five-year plan is critical. As for Jasper, the man's such a fool that continuing to work with him is a questionable decision at best. Now, are you prepared to do what I said? Even use force with Jasper if necessary?”

Xiang would do anything. A few minutes ago, he thought he faced imprisonment and torture in China.

“I'll do it,” Xiang said with conviction.

After hanging up the phone, Xiang went home. He slept for a few hours, then checked online news sources to see what spin the news was putting on the DC Metro killing. Not surprisingly, Allison Boyd had been named as the woman who was involved in the struggle with the unidentified victim. Someone had recognized her picture. Allison's impressive bio was given. The police said, “She isn't being charged, but is wanted for questioning. Anyone who knows her whereabouts should notify the police.”

Xiang felt as if the whole business was spinning out of control.

* * *

Martin and Francis were having breakfast in the kitchen with the television tuned to CNN. Normally, she would never have permitted that, but with the chief justice appointment so close, she even suggested it. “We don't want to miss any news.”

As Martin picked up a spoon with shredded wheat and skim milk and put it into his mouth he saw a picture of the Supreme Court building. Then the announcer said, “Judge Mary Corbett from the US Court of Appeals in New York has withdrawn from consideration for chief justice for personal reasons.” Martin pumped his fist into the air. “Yes,” he shouted. The announcer continued, “There are unconfined reports that Judge Corbett's withdrawal is related to a failure to file tax returns. That leaves Judge Butler and Andrew Martin as the two remaining candidates on the president's short list.”

“Oh, Andrew, that's great,” Francis said.

“Agreed. But I always thought Butler was the more formidable of the two.”

She laughed. “Wow. You can't please some people. We're almost …”

He stopped her in midsentence, pointing to the screen with a woman's picture and the name, Allison Boyd.

“The DC Police have now identified the mysterious woman in the DuPont Circle Metro incident who fled the scene as Allison Boyd, professor of archeology at Brown University. They have still not released the name of the dead man. Miss Boyd's twin sister recently died in Anguilla. There is speculation that the two incidents are somehow related.”

The news went on to other stories.

“Oh shit!” Martin cried out. Then he turned to Francis. “A full-scale investigation of the Metro incident would zero in on Vanessa's death in Anguilla. I thought we were out of the woods with Gorton's call, but not now.”

Francis looked puzzled. “It's all so peculiar. Who could have been chasing Allison with a gun? You think your friend Jasper could have decided that the only way to end this was by hiring thugs to kill Allison?”

Martin respected Francis's ideas, and he never dismissed anything she said out of hand, but this one seemed a bit farfetched. He wrinkled his forehead. “Wes hiring thugs?”

“You said he sounded desperate at Camelot. Desperate people do bizarre things. And hiring killers in our great city is almost as easy as buying a cappuccino.”

He laughed. “That's a helluva comparison.”

“Then who was chasing Allison?”

“Damned if I know.”

“You could give Police Chief Bradley a call and ask him the identity of the dead man. Remember he presented you with an award for your contributions to the police department's youth clubs.”

Martin shook his head. “It's tempting, but Bradley's savvy from being a longtime NYPD cop. We've had so little contact that he would likely be suspicious.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

Francis stood up. “Faculty meeting. Have to get going.”

Martin was still in the kitchen, sipping coffee and thinking about Allison when his cell phone rang. It was the Chinese ambassador.

“I have to speak with you about an urgent matter,” he said. “Are you available this morning?”

Martin had represented the government of China for eight years. He had an annual retainer of one million dollars. For that, he was consulted about various matters, always high level, from time to time. Also he made calls to American officials to break bureaucratic log jams or to reverse decisions that had gone against the Chinese. In the past, the ambassador always called Martin's office and scheduled an appointment through his secretary.