Payback (12 page)

“Yes, to everything. Aliases of course. I created copies of the invitation from Myra’s original. And, yes, ladies, you all need to alter your appearance, not that you aren’t beautiful as you are. Nothing drastic, slight changes so if anyone is asked to recall any of you, their description at best will be vague. Myra and I will be going as ourselves since we will be returning here after the party. We always go to these functions so we’re not going to appear out of place. I’m going to leave you for a while to do whatever you have to do. I’ll start dinner. Myra, keep your eye on the oven. Oh, one last thing. Julia, let me know when you leave. I want to make sure you’re not followed and I want you kept safe. Promise me.”

Julia felt a lump form in her throat. “I promise.”

Mark Lane cursed as he wedged his way into traffic, three cars behind the shiny black Mercedes. He didn’t like a three-car lead; two was best if you didn’t want to lose the person you were tailing. Since he had Dr. Webster’s home address, he wasn’t too worried that he might lose her in late Friday night traffic. Still, Jack would pitch a fit if he did lose the woman and she went somewhere else. Where the hell would she go in the pouring rain? Women didn’t like to get their hair wet. Nah, she was going home. He called Jack who was somewhere on the same road he was, tailing the big rig with the two women who had left earlier.

Mark reached over to the passenger seat for his cell phone and worked his speed dial. “Where are you, kemosabe?”

“Sitting in traffic. Where are you?” came the response.

“Tailing the doctor. Do you believe this rain? I’d probably make better time if I got out and started to swim. She’s three cars ahead of me. Don’t worry, I’m not going to lose her. I have eyes like a hawk. Where’s that rig going?”

“Alexandria would be my guess. The Asian girl buys in volume from that particular nursery. Why she’s going there at this hour of the night is beyond me. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she isn’t doing the decorating at the armory for the shindig tomorrow. You can fit a lot of plants in back of one of those rigs.”

“Listen, Jack, I have to hang up. It’s raining harder and we’re coming up to a few exits. If I can’t see in this glop, I might miss her.”

The wipers on Lane’s Pathfinder worked furiously against the driving rain. Visibility was almost nil with a low fog starting to roll in. Mark cursed again until he saw the Mercedes inch to the right. Good, she was getting off the highway. He wasn’t sure but he thought he left the fog behind. If there was one thing in life he hated, it was fog with a bunch of asshole Washington drivers.

He was behind her now and within minutes knew she was indeed headed to Georgetown. He followed her as far as Dumbarton, parked, got out and ran back to the street where the doctor lived. Mark pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt as he pretended to be on his way home. He passed the senator’s driveway aware that the doctor was just sitting in her car with the lights off. What did that mean?

Mark continued walking to the corner, then doubled back. Ah, she was getting out of the car and walking toward the front door. He stepped behind a firethorn bush and tried to ignore the rain dripping down his neck. Looks like the senator is home, too, he thought as he peered through the leaves of the firethorn bush at a spiffy Porsche sitting right next to the Mercedes. These people paid more for their cars than he’d earn in five years, maybe seven. Shit!

He watched as Dr. Webster started toward the house. A sensor light came on and he could see her clearly. She looked tired and unhappy. She also didn’t look like she was in a hurry to enter the house. As she drew closer he saw something else he wasn’t expecting to see. He saw the doctor raise her hand and bless herself before she entered the house. Son of a bitch!

Mark raced back to where he’d parked his car on Dumbarton. He worked his speed dial a second time. Jack sounded tired when he responded.

“OK, buddy, our bird’s in the nest. Listen, I have to tell you something. Our bird is scared out of her wits. I was
this
close to her, behind a bush. Her feet were dragging. She didn’t want to go into that house. She also made the sign of the cross before she opened the door. I don’t feel right leaving but I’m not supposed to be here. My section chief will string me up by my balls if he finds out. Should I go home now?”

“Yeah, go on home, Mark. I owe you. We’re just observing. We can’t interfere. For starters, I live in Virginia. Yeah, yeah, you fibbies supercede us dicks. But I don’t want you getting your ass in a sling with your boss either. You sure we’re covered for tomorrow night? I don’t want to show up and get my ass bounced outta there.”

“Section chief approved it. We got more than a dozen guys out with some kind of crud. The gig tomorrow night is considered a big shit detail. My boss hates these things and is grateful for your help. I don’t know how grateful he’d be if he knew why you wanted to be at the armory tomorrow night. Tobias approved you and signed off on it. I have the papers right here in the car. We’re supposed to show up at four-thirty. We’re teamed together and working the parking lot. If it rains, we’re screwed.”

“It’s not going to rain, Mark. The rain is supposed to clear out by morning. My girls are doing just what I thought they were doing, loading the truck with plants and flowers. I’m going home now myself. Make sure you’re back at Myra’s by eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Listen, Jack, I don’t feel right about leaving. I’m worried about that woman but I guess you’re right, we can’t get involved.” Mark made a right-hand turn and drove through a mini pond. “Jack, did you hear the news today?”

“Is somebody bombing us? If not, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yeah, you do. They’re saying Senator Webster had some extra-marital affairs and the women are going to come forward to confirm it. I heard it on the FOX network this afternoon. How’s that going to play out tomorrow night?”

“Jesus! Are you sure it’s Senator Webster?”

“Yes, I’m sure. The senator wasn’t available for comment. You have to wonder if Dr. Webster knows. Maybe she knows all about it and that’s why she’s spending so much time at Pinewood. Women consoling women. That kind of thing. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t anxious to go in the house. I bet she knows.”

“We’ll talk in the morning. I need to think about what you just told me. By the way, what did you find on Charles Martin?”

“Give me a break, Jack. I was going to work on that when I got home. My home computer is tied into the one at the office. You have me going in six different directions. I can tell you this, the guy didn’t exist prior to his employment at the Rutledge candy company. I did get that far.”

“What the hell does that mean, Mark?”

“It means your guy doesn’t have a background. No trace of him up to the day he started to work as head of security at the Rutledge business. I’ll check Interpol. I have a few contacts abroad. Listen, I’m home. We can talk in the morning.”

“Wait a minute, Mark. Run a check on Myra, too, way back to when she was born, OK?”

“Sure, why was I stupid enough to think I need sleep.”

Ten minutes later, Jack parked his car in the first parking space he could find. He needed to think about what Mark had just said. He racked his brain as he made his way to his apartment in the pouring rain to remember everything Nikki had ever said about Myra’s live-in companion. The only thing he could come up with was Charles should be anointed for sainthood. He was a gourmet cook, he loved Myra and Nikki and he had loved Barbara, too. He ran security at the candy plant. He had all kinds of talents. He knew Myra when they were young. Myra had gone to England with her father, and they met and fell in love, and then something went awry. What went awry? Did Nik ever tell him? If she did, he couldn’t remember.

Was Charles British? For some reason, he thought so. He’d been in his company twice to his knowledge. Did the man speak? Shit, he couldn’t remember. He should know that. Yeah, yeah, he was British. Nik said he made Beef Wellington all the time but no one liked it but Charles. He liked to drink PIM’s too, a British drink.

Screw it all, he was going to bed. Tomorrow was another day.

Out of sorts, unsure what was bothering him, Mark Lane changed into dry clothes and took his place at the computer. He polished his glasses, cracked his knuckles and stared at the blank screen in front of him. All he could see was the fear on Dr. Julia Webster’s face as she prepared to enter her house where Senator Webster awaited her.

Dr. Julia Webster wasn’t his business or FBI business. All he’d done was help out an old college buddy who had a few screws loose.

Mark cracked his knuckles again. He was no longer a field agent due to a heart attack at the young age of thirty-two. These days he was a desk jockey who ran computer programs for the Bureau. He missed being in the field which was why he’d agreed to help Jack. What was a little clandestine surveillance? His field instincts were just as good as ever. He hadn’t lost those with his surgery. Something was wrong in the Webster household. Maybe Jack wasn’t as paranoid as he originally thought.

Mark looked at the time on the bottom window of his computer. Eleven o’clock.

At this hour of the night he could make it to Georgetown in ten minutes. To do what? Stand in the rain and play Peeping Tom?

“I’m going! No, I’m not going out in this rain! Hell, yes, I’m going.”

Five minutes later, dressed in one of his FBI slickers, Mark was in the Pathfinder headed toward Georgetown. What he was going to do when he got there, he had no clue.

Julia tried to be quiet, hoping against hope that Mitch was upstairs in bed. Unlikely, since the house was lit up like a Christmas tree. He was probably glued to the television waiting for the eleven o’clock news. He probably had a good bit of liquor under his belt, too. She hated it when Mitch drank to excess because he was an ugly drunk.

In the kitchen, Julia opened the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of orange juice. She carried her glass over to the sink and stared out at the black, rainy night. All she could really see was the gas lamp with its sickly, yellow light shining downward.

She raised her eyes to see Mitch’s reflection. He was standing in the doorway wearing the same suit he’d probably started the day with. His tie was askew, his power suit rumpled. In his hand he held a highball glass. Julia turned around but didn’t say anything. She waited, her stomach in knots.

“Where the hell have you been, Julia? I called you a hundred times. We need to get on the same page here. Where were you?”

“What page is that, Mitch? I said I would be here to go to the party. Here I am.”

“You couldn’t wait, could you? You had to run screaming to those slimy reporters and spew your garbage.”

Julia sipped at the orange juice. “I did not run screaming to any reporters nor did I spew any garbage. I would never do that to you. What you and I discussed in this house stays between us. I see no need to air our dirty laundry for the gossip mongers of this town. If you’re looking to place blame, look somewhere else.”

“And you expect me to believe you?” Mitch ranted.

“Yes, Mitch, I do.” Julia sipped at the orange juice again. It tasted bitter.

“Well, I don’t. No one else knew. You made me write out that goddamn list. Now I know why you wanted me to do that. You need to call those slimy people and retract what you said. This is going to kill me politically.”

Better to die politically than to die physically
. “You’re delusional. I told you I didn’t do it, therefore I cannot call and rescind. Look somewhere else. There are a lot of people who hate you in this town and we both know it.”

Julia moved across the kitchen to turn on the small flat screen television on the kitchen counter. “Let’s see what they have to say,” she said quietly.
His eyes are getting mean. He’s working up to something.

They didn’t have long to wait. The second sound bite of the night had to do with Senator Webster’s supposed dalliance. Julia watched her husband out of the corner of her eye. She could see that Mitch had set his highball glass on the counter and was smacking his clenched fist into his open palm. The venom he was spewing scared her; then a long-legged model type flashed on the screen. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with a wealth of shimmering blonde hair and breasts that couldn’t be real. Julia listened to the lie she was telling. For some reason it sounded more of a lie because of her pronounced southern twang. “I have not had any kind of relationship with that man, Senator Webster.” Julia almost laughed aloud. Miss Connie McBride was the third name on Mitch’s list of paramours. “I’m very flattered but unfortunately, it’s just all a vicious lie. The right wing. Y’all know how that works in this town. Now, y’all aren’t going to start following me around and hounding me, are you? Now, don’t be calling me at all hours of the day and night, ya hear?” She winked seductively at the reporter interviewing her.

Julia’s heartbeat quickened. If Connie McBride was third on Mitch’s slut list, there was a good chance she was a recent affair, which could well mean she was infected with HIV. Her gaze returned to the television screen where the buxom, long-legged blonde was still pretending to be outraged at having her character besmirched even though she was flattered.

Senator Webster looked absolutely livid as he downed the last of the scotch in his glass in one mighty gulp.

Outside, the rain slashed against the kitchen window as a lightning bolt shot across the sky. An early spring storm, just like the storm going on in this kitchen, Julia thought crazily. Her voice was calm, and it surprised her, when she said, “Now, Mitch, if you can lie as good as that slut you have nothing to worry about. Just for the record, she didn’t convince me and she looked guilty as hell. Let’s not forget how flattered she is to be coupled with the distinguished senator from Pennsylvania. Those boobs aren’t real either.”

“Will you shut up. Why would she lie?”