Deceived (29 page)

No name marked
the driveway, just an address and a black metal gate
—
shut
—
but
Nick recognized it just the same. Over the years he had been, if not a regular
visitor, at least an occasional one. The house was invisible from the road. In
the soft light of dusk he saw only a long, woods-flanked drive that disappeared
in a gentle bend
.

"That's
it," Nick told the cab driver, and pointed through the right window.

Ten yards
beyond the gate, the cab slowed and moved toward the shoulder, prepared to
execute a Y-turn. As its headlights flashed across the side of the road, Nick
caught a glint of reflected light through the windshield
.

Nick's heart
stalled. "Drive on," he said urgently, sinking low in the back seat
.

"Excuse
me?"

"Drive on."

The cab did,
and a short distance up the road Nick spied the rear quarter of a car tucked
into the woods
.

A stakeout? Was
someone a step ahead of him? Had they figured he might come here to contact
Carolyn

Nick had the
cab driver turn right at the first corner and pull to the side of the road. He
exited the cab with an excuse of wanting to surprise somebody, and stood in
place as the cab drove off. Quiet enveloped him. The neighborhood, a sleepy
upper-income D.C. enclave with cul-de-sacs and five acre lots, saw little
traffic.

Nick took his
bearings. There was one property separating him from Carolyn's; he planned to
cross it and make his way directly to her door, skirting the front gate
.

His set off,
moving rapidly
.

Cloaked by
trees, he passed through the neighbor's property without incident, then literally
ran into a brick wall. It was a foot higher than his reach, and enclosed
Carolyn's property. He walked its length for a bit looking for an opening or
break, but found none. He'd have to jump it.

Nick moved to
the base of the wall and leapt. Both hands gripped brick, and for a moment he
hung in stasis, unable to pull himself up, unwilling to release his grip. Then one
foot found a foothold in the brick, and he was able to struggle to the top of
the wall
.

And then he was
over.

He landed
badly, falling on his side. Breathing heavily, he waited, motionless, for maybe
a minute. He heard nothing. Doubts took him again
—
what was he doing
here; what if Carolyn was away; why hadn't he called the police. He drove doubt
away the only way he knew how: action. He stood and moved forward through
Carolyn's heavily wooded lot
.

A few dozen
yards and Nick came to Carolyn's drive. He moved down it, toward Carolyn's
house, sticking to its edge, concealed among trees and underbrush. Soon the
breadth of a stately colonial opened up to him.

Carolyn lived
alone, no dogs, no domestic help. He'd ring her door bell, and if home, she'd
let him in. She'd know what to do; she always did.

He heard a
sound. To his rear. The gate squeaking open.

Nick sprinted
for cover behind the trunk of a massive oak tree. For a moment he heard nothing
more, then identified the hum of an automobile engine. He risked a quick
glance, spotted a black Lincoln approaching, and pulled his head back sharply.

The auto slowed
—
he
could hear its engine wind down
—
and stopped directly to his side. Its
door opened.

Nick inhaled,
willing his body to contract. Desperately, he scanned the woods, mapping an
escape route.

A solid thud
then
—
the car door being shut
—
and soon the engine drone faded down
the driveway.

Nick held still
for twenty long seconds, then hearing nothing, chanced another glance. The
Lincoln had pulled to a stop by Carolyn's front door. A man exited, holding a
cane. Long white locks curled at the collar of his shirt
.

Nick recognized
him immediately: Senator Whitford.

The senator started
up the walk toward Carolyn's home. The door opened while he was still ten paces
distant and Carolyn stepped to the threshold. No greeting passed between them,
not that Nick could make out, as Whitford stepped past Carolyn and disappeared
inside.

Nick's forehead
sunk to his hand. He hoped to find Carolyn alone. Now he would either have to
tell his story to both or wait until Whitford
—

A sharp crack
sounded to Nick's rear.

He froze; his
heart beat loudly in his ears. Through the beats he recognized another sound: a
rustle of dead leaves, and another, and another. Careful footsteps somewhere to
his rear. Nick turned, twisting his neck and body, not daring to move his feet
and advertise his presence as someone else had advertised theirs.

Through the
tangle of underbrush and low hanging leaves cut by dark branches, an object
took shape. A man, moving slowly in the woods, maybe thirty yards away. Nick
could make out no more in the faint light.

The man picked
his way back toward the front gate. Nick's mind worked quickly: Whitford must
have left the man off. Why? Simply a secret service agent to guard the senator,
or something more?

The man soon disappeared
, subsumed by foliage and shadows, and still Nick waited, two minutes, five
minutes, before risking his first step.

He moved slowly
then, each footstep carefully planned, avoiding branches, avoiding leaves. Once
a twig snapped under his weight, and he again froze, forcing himself to count
to one hundred before daring to look back in the direction of the hidden man. He
heard and saw nothing, and started forward once more.

A stretch of
lawn surrounded Carolyn's house; Nick knelt at its edge, steeling himself. Thirty
yards of open green and he'd be to the front door. And if Whitford was there,
so what? Everything would be okay once he had a chance to talk to Carolyn.

Nick sprinted
noiselessly to the front door, his hand to his chest, holding the handgun in
place in his tux's breast pocket. No one yelled out or followed. Adrenaline
coursed his body; he took a dozen long breaths to calm himself, then rang the
doorbell.

Carolyn's eyes
snapped wide on seeing Nick; she stepped back, startled. "
Nick
,"
she said.

Nick brushed
past her through the open door and she pushed it shut behind him, bewildered. "What
are you doing here? The gate
…
how did you get in?"

Nick ignored
her questions. "I've got something important to tell you." He scanned
the foyer. "Where's the senator?"

Carolyn pointed
toward her study.

"Good, I
can tell you both."

Carolyn tilted
her head, confusion stamped on her face, and started for the study. Nick
followed.

The senator,
attired in an olive summer suit and light blue stripped shirt, sat in an arm
chair to the side of a cherry desk. On seeing Nick, his mouth dropped and the
color drained from his face.

"Mr.
Ford," he said feebly, then looked to Carolyn for explanation. She shook
her head, indicating she had received none herself.

The senator
started to rise and Nick held up a hand. "Please
…
sit. You too,
Carolyn. Something's happened. I'll need your help
—
both of you.
…
Dennis
contacted me."

"Dennis?"
Carolyn exclaimed.

Nick nodded and
explained quickly, starting with Jing-mei's call and finishing with finding Dennis
in her apartment. "Dennis said he never worked for the Chinese, that they
were just puppets from the start. He said he worked for powerful people
…
I
wouldn't believe who, he said."

After a pause,
Whitford scoffed. "Well, it seems Mr. Lindsay has nothing if not a vivid
imagination. You've been had, Mr. Ford."

Nick looked at
Whitford. "I thought so too, at first. Then a man kicked in the front door
of the apartment. Jing-mei and Dennis are dead. He shot them."

Carolyn's head
snapped in Whitford's direction.

"He tried
to kill me too," Nick added.

"Someone
tried to kill
you
, Nick?" Carolyn swallowed hard. "Today,
before you came here?"

Nick nodded.

Carolyn's hand
went to her temple. "Who, Nick? Do you have any idea who?"

Nick shook his
head. "A man knocked on the door, pretended to be an electrician. Dennis
guessed it was a ploy. He said the man was coming for him. Then the man broke
down the door." Nick pulled the gun from his breast pocket, cradled it in
his hands. Senator Whitford and Carolyn raised their eyebrows
.

"He
carried this," Nick said, raising the gun. "There's a silencer
attached." In his mind, Nick saw the bullets take Jing-mei at the neck. "I
was lucky to get away. He had me pinned in a bathroom, and
…
I might have
killed him. I'm not sure. I ran. There was nothing I could do for Dennis or
Jing-mei."

Carolyn glared
in Whitford's direction as Nick continued: "I haven't called the police. According
to Dennis, they would get to me, even in police protection
…
if I went to
the police I'd end up dead. He said to come here, to talk to you."

Carolyn
clutched at her chest. "Charles
…
"

Senator
Whitford waived Carolyn off dismissively. "Lindsay never identified this
'they' he kept talking about?

"Like I
told you, only generically: powerful people, I wasn't going to believe who. He
never got a chance to tell me more." Nick reached again into his breast
pocket and pulled out the papers Dennis had given him. "Dennis did give me
this; said it was proof."

"What is
it?" Carolyn asked. Nick handed her the papers.

"A log of
incoming and outgoing phone calls from Dennis's office. An unaltered log, he
called it. He said something would jump out at me, but"
—
Nick
shrugged
—
"nothing has so far."

Senator
Whitford frowned and stuck out his hand for the papers. Carolyn passed them to
him. Whitford flipped the pages quickly and with a "hrrumph" threw
them on the desk. "Mr. Ford," he said, "Thank God you're okay. And
given what you just went through, I can understand your being a bit confused
—
"

Nick started to
object, but Whitford spoke over him. "However," he added sternly,
"I think you must bear in mind Dennis Lindsay was a
fugitive
. Whatever
he may have told you should, I think, be taken with a great deal of salt. I
hold little stock in shadowy references to 'powerful people,' not when the
whereabouts of John Li, a criminal of flesh and blood, is unknown. Why didn't
Lindsay want you to go to the police? I would think the answer was obvious
—
because
the police would have arrested him, that's why. As to his other motives in
bringing you to the apartment, I don't pretend to say, but I put them down to
the actions of a desperate man."

The senator's
calm self-assurance was contagious. What had a moment ago seemed so certain to
Nick, seemed much less so now
.

"According
to you, Mr. Ford," Senator Whitford continued, "two people, maybe
three, are dead. I think it's high time we did something about that." The
senator reached in his suit coat, removed a thin black book. "I'm calling
the Justice Department."

"The
senator might be right, Nick," Carolyn said tentatively.

"Of course
I am," Whitford agreed
.

Nick felt
suddenly foolish. To have believed Dennis, the man who had lied all along, who
had been in on everything from the start, who had set up him and Meg up when
they were on their way to the senator's, and who
—

Nick stopped in
thought. On the way to the senator's.

His mouth went
dry.
On the way to the senator's.

An adrenaline
rush pushed Nick's senses on edge. He reached for the sheath of papers Whitford
had set on the desk
—
Dennis's proof
—
and set the handgun down in
its place. Nick turned to the last page, to the log of calls on the morning he
and Meg had been attacked. It jumped out at him then, just as Dennis had
predicted it would
.

Nick's hand
began to tremble as he continued to stare at the page. Stupid of him not to
have seen it before. He had repeatedly searched for a phone number he might
recognize, but it was not what
was on
the page that should have jumped
out at him, but what
wasn't
.

Senator
Whitford had stood, picked up the phone and was about to dial.

"Senator,
could you please put down the phone," Nick said softly, as if lost in
thought.

"Excuse
me?" the senator said.

Nick's voice
turned forceful. "I said could you please put down the phone."

Perplexed, the
senator said, "Mr. Ford, it is imperative the authorities become involved;
I don't see any other course."

Powerful
people
, Dennis had said.
You won't believe it
, Dennis had said
.

Nick stared
momentarily at the gun on the desk. He reached for it, suddenly very conscious
of its weight, its deadly purpose. "I'm afraid I'll have to insist,"
he said.

As Whitford slowly
lowered the phone, Carolyn's eyes went wide. "Nick?" she said. "Have
you gone mad?"

Had
he
gone mad?
Maybe. He directed the barrel of the gun to the two chairs
flanking the cherry desk and fought unsuccessfully to keep his voice from
cracking.. "Please, sit. Both of you."

"Mr. Ford,"
the senator said indignantly, drawing himself to his full height. "I don't
know what in the hell is going on here, but I insist on a explanation. Immediately."

Nick's heart
thumped loudly, confusing his thoughts. What had he done? To draw a weapon on a
United States senator? Like a dog who sensed fear, an emboldened Whitford
started toward him. One step, two steps, an arm's length away. Reaching out
now, for the gun.

Nick saw Meg's
face in his mind, and anger flared suddenly within him, bring with it resolve. He
raised the gun to Whitford. "I said
sit
," he repeated in a
commanding voice that surprised even him.

Whitford paused.
His face reflected first surprise, then indecision. Finally he snorted, turned
and sat as directed. Carolyn followed suit, and Nick felt a surge of relief. He'd
won the first battle. What now?

"What in
God's name are you doing, Nick?" Carolyn asked again.

"Looking
for answers," Nick answered, his voice even. He took control of the center
of the room, assessing Whitford as he did so. The senator was cool, very cool,
either that or Nick had it all wrong.

"You waive
a gun in my face, in the senator's face, and that's your explanation? What's
this all about?" Carolyn demanded
.

In reply, Nick
flipped the phone log onto Carolyn's lap. "Take a look. Last page. Early
morning, around five. There's a series of calls from Dennis' office and to his
office. See them?"

Carolyn nodded.
"What do they mean?"

Nick stared at
Whitford, watched his face again go white. "I think the senator knows. Let's
see if I'm right." Nick backed to the phone, the gun all the while trained
on the senator's chest. He picked up the receiver. "Read the number off to
me, Carolyn."

"Nick
—
"

"
Read
it off to me, Carolyn
," he repeated. This time she did, and Nick
dialed the number. Three rings and a formal voice answered. Nick's mind worked
quickly to assimilate the information.

"Wrong
number," Nick said into the receiver, then slowly let it fall to its base.

Until that
moment, Whitford's betrayal had seemed certain, but somehow unreal. No longer. The
reality struck Nick hard.

"I demand
to know just what you think you're doing, Mr. Ford," Senator Whitford
yelled.

Eyebrows low,
almost in a squint, Carolyn repeated Nick's name several times, seeking answers
as well.

After a pause,
Nick said, "The number you read off, Carolyn, connected me to the Sussex
Hotel in Manhattan." By the way Whitford's eyes darted, Nick guessed the
senator knew what was coming.

Confused,
Carolyn cocked her head but remained mute. Senator Whitford rushed to fill the
silence. "Mr. Ford, I don't know what it is you're trying to prove here,
and frankly, right now, I don't care. What I do know is that if you don't set
that gun down
immediately
you will be facing serious charges."

"I don't
think so, senator. You see I finally understand Dennis's proof. In the early
morning of August 9th
—
slightly before Meg and I were attacked
—
there
were a total of three calls to and from Dennis's office. All involving the
number I just called. The Sussex Hotel in Manhattan. Problem is, senator, I
talked to you that morning. Dennis patched me through, remember?"

Senator
Whitford's face went blank.

"Remember?"
Nick asked again. "Dennis called you, then connected us.
You
asked
Meg and I to meet you at your senate office in one hour.
One hour
,
senator. One hour for you to get dressed and get to your office." Nick
turned to Carolyn. "That's what finally jumped out at me, Carolyn. Three
calls that morning, all from or to a two-one-two area code
—
Manhattan,
but no
local
call. Something's missing. The call Dennis made to the
senator's. You do live in the city, don't you, Senator Whitford? That would
just be a local call."

Whitford said
nothing; his eyes radiated hate.

"Charles
…
?"
Carolyn said, anxiously.

"The
Sussex Hotel," Nick went on, "they'll have a guest registry,
obviously. Guessing you're on it, senator."

"I don't
know what you're talking about," the senator said.

Nick shook his
head. "What I find hard to understand, then, is how you planned to meet me
in your office that morning, senator. How were you going to make it from
Manhattan to D.C. in only
one
hour?"

Whitford opened
his mouth but no words came.

"Of course
you never intended to go to your office, did you, senator? No, all you cared
about was getting us out on the street. Out on the street where Li's man could
silence us before we had a chance to talk. You did your part and Dennis, your
lackey, played his.
…
You lied, senator, but since Meg and I were the
only ones who could have caught you in that lie, you weren't concerned
—
you
didn't expect us to be around to complain. A powerful man, Dennis said, I just
never imagined how powerful."

Carolyn's eyes
narrowed, and skipped again to Whitford. He avoided her stare.

Whitford banged
the end of his cane down on the floor. "I've had just about enough of
this, young man," he barked. "I am a United States senator, and if
you don't put that gun down now, you'll be seeing nothing but the inside of a
jail until you're as old as I am." He started to rise.

Nick held the
gun at the senator's chest and fought to keep his voice from breaking. "Senator,
don't test me."

Whitford's face
turned cold. "And don't threaten me, son. I'm too old to scare."

"This gun
is silenced
—
I've heard it fired today, at me. It barely makes a noise,
like a champagne cork, that's all. I
will
do it
—
I don't see that
I have any choice. The police aren't an option
—
Dennis said I go to them,
I end up dead, and more than ever I have reason to believe what he said."

Whitford fell
back into his chair as Nick canvassed the room. Only two entrances, the double
door he had come through and a door to a screened in porch looking out over the
backyard. He moved to the double doors, listened at them for a moment, then
asked, "Is there anybody else in the house?"

Carolyn shook
her head.

Nick locked the
double doors, then started around the room, shutting drapes as he went. "Dennis,
his involvement surprised me, but somehow I can deal with it, but you senator
…
"