The Inner Sanctum (32 page)

"So, have you?" she asked evenly.

"Have I what?"

"Have you broken twenty laws pertaining to the securities business?"

David ignored her. "We can talk more later, but we need to get you out of here, Jesse. Right now."

She was frightened by the intensity of his voice and the fear she saw in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I think you're in danger."

"Why?"

"Because of that file in your kitchen. I went through it quickly the other night. I believe everything in it is true, Jesse. Whoever wrote it was either being fed information by an inside source or was a genius. I'm certain the senior people at Sagamore are attempting to manipulate the election. It only makes good sense. Their Senate contact, the one who controls the black budget, is getting old. If they don't do anything to address that problem, once he's gone they'll be left without their lifeline, without their ability to outperform the market every year. So they need a younger man, someone who can ultimately replace their contact. But they want the young man to be in the Senate concurrently with their contact so an orderly transition can be orchestrated." David paused. "And I'm sure they want Malcolm Walker gone too. In the worst way possible. So they get two for the price of one in this election."

It was just as she had surmised. "My God," she whispered.

"Yes. It's incredible. What's most frightening of all is that the man in the Senate controlling the black budget has to be working with someone in the Pentagon. The senator can appropriate, but he needs help with contracts. He needs someone senior in the Pentagon as well."

Jesse's mouth ran dry. What had seemed unimaginable only a few days ago--just Neil's active imagination--was suddenly becoming a conspiracy of immense proportions.

"But the most important thing right now is to get you out of here," David urged again, taking a step toward her.

She saw the move but didn't step back this time. "The only person at Sagamore who knows about that file is you. Why would I be in danger?"

"Do you think it's just coincidence that you became such good friends with Elizabeth Gilman so fast?" He had to persuade Jesse to trust him completely.

"Obviously you don't."

David shook his head. "No, I don't." He saw the disappointment in her expression. "I don't want you to take that the wrong way. You're a bright woman and you could certainly hold your own as a portfolio manager at Sagamore. But I've been around Elizabeth more than four years. If nothing else, she's a businesswoman. She has a wonderful way with people, but the bottom line is she doesn't allow emotion to cloud her judgment when it comes to Sagamore. She knows there will be a great many applicants from which to choose, applicants with much more experience in the business than you have. It just doesn't make sense for her to latch on to you the way she has. It's a hunch, I'll admit. But I'm sure I'm right."

"Do you know for a fact that she's involved in all of this?"

"For Christ's sake, Jesse, she's Sagamore's managing partner." David was suddenly irritated. "The pattern of insider trading I traced goes back years. She knows. Don't kid yourself."

"Is there anything you aren't telling me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've told me you have a hunch they know about the file, but you haven't told me for certain they know. Do they know?"

A wry smile came to his face. "Are you asking me if I told them?"

"Did you?"

"Jesse, down deep I'm an honest person. I've made some mistakes, but it's time that I own up to those mistakes and atone for them. I'm not going to be part of the game anymore. I'm not going to let them get away with this." He paused and looked into her eyes. "And I care about you. I wouldn't do that to you."

It was a wonderful speech, but she wasn't going to give him the benefit of the doubt so fast. "You just told me the average portfolio manager who has been at Sagamore five years earns two million dollars annually. You said it was easier to play the game and earn the money. I imagine telling them about that file would get you the two million pretty quickly."

"If I had told them about the file, why would I be here telling you all this?" He shook his head. "Besides they wouldn't have sent me back, they would have sent a professional. You'd be dead by now. If you erect the infrastructure they have and take the risks they have, you play for keeps. Killing an IRS agent to maintain secrecy of the conspiracy isn't something you even think twice about. You just do it."

Slowly Jesse brought her hands to her face. Sara. The lost glove at the river house. Had they been trying to trace her and found Sara instead? "No," she said aloud. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Sara had simply gone AWOL for twenty-four hours and would show up today.

"No, what?" David asked curiously.

"Nothing." But somehow she knew something awful had happened to Sara. "What about a check from Doub Steel to LFA, signed by you?" She had to ask the question.

"Check?" David asked hoarsely, clearly taken off guard.

"Yes," she said evenly. "I have a copy of a check made out to the organization known as Liberation for African-Americans. It's a Doub Steel check and it's signed by David J. Mitchell. You told me that afternoon we were sailing that Doub Steel was one of your portfolio companies."

"I know what I told you," he answered, suddenly upset. "How did you get a copy of that check?"

"You don't want to tell me which senator runs the black budget. I'm not going to tell you how I got the check. But I have it, the file you saw, and a good deal of other pertinent and damning information stored in a safe place."

"Jesse, that isn't my signature on the Doub check. It's a forgery. You've got to believe me."

"I saw your signature that night at the restaurant and at the marina when you paid for the sailboat. I'm no expert, but you have a distinct signature. The one on the Doub check looks a lot like yours."

"I'll admit that. I was as shocked as I'm sure you were when you first saw it." His pulse was racing. How in the hell could she possibly have stumbled onto the check? Sagamore would only use it against him if he tried to expose what was going on. That was clear. But there was no telling what Jesse would do with it. "They set me up."

"I'm really supposed to believe that?" She saw the desperation in his eyes again. Its intensity was screaming truth. And if he was here to do her bodily harm, wouldn't he have done it already? Why would he bother talking this long?

"You have to believe me," he said through gritted teeth. "Look, I want to take these people down--"

"So do I," she cut in angrily. "I think they killed Neil Robinson. A man I cared very much about. Not to mention the fact that they're trying to manipulate an election and they've broken more laws than you and I could imagine."

"I want to help you, Jesse. Please believe that."

"Everything I've heard you say is based on assumptions. If you want to help me, tell me what you know." She turned away from him.

He couldn't tell her about his meeting with Webb so long ago. Couldn't explain how he knew so much about the A-100 and the GEA contract, couldn't explain his relationship with Jack Finnerty, couldn't explain that they had framed him with the offshore accounts. And couldn't tell her what he believed were the true motivations behind Elizabeth Gilman's odd behavior. He needed Jesse to trust him, but telling her everything would make him too vulnerable.

"Give me just a little more time. There's more information I can get," he said. He saw her anger. "You have to trust me," he said earnestly.

This was where it got tricky. "Trust you? You could be setting me up." Suddenly she felt his hands gently massaging her shoulders. "My God, you steal my keys and let yourself into my apartment. You admit to going through a personal file of mine. You won't tell me how you know about Sagamore's contact in the Senate, or who it is. You admit to SEC violations."

"I never admitted to SEC violations," he corrected her.

"You didn't have to. I can draw that conclusion for myself." She felt his arms coming around her waist. "David, stop." But suddenly she didn't want him to stop. Suddenly she realized how truly scared she was, and his strong arms felt wonderful and comforting around her. "Stop," she said. But there was no conviction this time.

"No, I won't." Slowly David turned her so she was facing him. He gazed deeply into her eyes. "I'm going to take care of you. But I need your help too. We're going to beat these bastards. But we have to depend on each other."

It was so dangerous to trust him--to trust anyone, for that matter. But he could be so convincing. And wasn't he right? If he had told them about the file, they wouldn't have sent him back.

"All right," she said softly.

Through the early-morning light Jesse followed David's BMW in her rental car. As she focused on his taillights, she felt her attraction to him growing stronger. It was crazy, but she couldn't help herself.

"We're going to beat these bastards." He had said the words with such intensity. But that tiny seed of doubt was still there as well, as much as she tried to convince herself it shouldn't be. Two million dollars was a lot to throw away. He could be setting her up so easily. There was a manipulative side to David Mitchell. She couldn't deny that. But how strong was that side? That was the question. When she had looked into his eyes in the apartment, she had seen sincerity. Or perhaps he was simply an actor giving the performance of a lifetime. But why would he be protecting her now? Why would he have told her to get out of the apartment?

They pulled up in front of the Towson Sheraton Hotel. David jumped from the BMW, jogged back to her car, and opened the door, holding her hand as she stepped out.

"That's very gallant of you," she said.

"Thank you." He kissed her on the cheek. "I really am going to take care of you." She was trusting him now. Against the odds, he had persuaded her to do so. But then he had always been able to do that when he really needed to. It was a God-given talent. Something about his eyes, a woman of his past had murmured. "Let's go inside, Jesse. I'm going to get you a room, then I have to go. But I'll be in touch." He took her by the arm. "I think it would be a good idea if you didn't go to work today."

Jesse nodded. She would follow his orders to the letter now.

"And don't call anyone from the room. They might have caller ID. If you have to use the phone, go to the mall next door. But don't stay away from your room too long. That might be dangerous."

She nodded again.

David reached into the backseat of her car for the bag she had packed hastily at the apartment, started toward the door, then stopped. "Jesse, I need to know where that Elbridge Coleman file is. And the other things you said you had as well."

She had agreed to help him. She trusted him now, didn't she?

He took her hand in his. "What if, God forbid, they find you? I'd be the only one left who could stop them. It sounds like that file would help a great deal." He hesitated. "Will you tell me?"

Todd Colton watched as Jesse said something into David's ear, then kissed him deeply. He had watched them leave her apartment fifteen minutes ago. He had watched Jesse disappear into her mother's house sometime before dawn this morning, only to reappear minutes later. He had never really left her after tearing out of the parking lot in his Corvette. Instead, he had followed her everywhere she had gone. And now, as he watched them enter the Sheraton arm in arm, his anger rose to a level he had never experienced. Jesse had lied to him about her feelings for David Mitchell. She cared about Mitchell deeply.

That was the real reason she had spurned his advances, had pulled away from his attempt to kiss her in the parking lot. Her feelings for Mitchell. How could she do this to him when he had always been there for her?

"You wanted to see me?" Monique stepped into Malcolm Walker's office warily.

Walker sat in his office chair, head back, hands covering his face. "Come in." His voice was hushed.

She coughed nervously, then moved across the thick carpet to the chair in front of his desk and sat down. He must know by now that the communique between Cowen and Webb was gone. Her lip curled involuntarily at the thought of Webb. The bastard had kept her at the Four Seasons until four this morning, taking her over and over.

"What's the matter?" Walker asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you just bit into a lemon. And you look exhausted too."

She felt as if his eyes were searching her for clues. "I'll be fine," she answered. "I think I ate something for breakfast that isn't agreeing with me."

"Maybe you should go home."

"I'll be fine, Malcolm." She hated herself. She had been with Malcolm for ten years, and now she had given Webb the note from Cowen to keep the pictures with the blond woman off tabloid front pages. She had ruined Malcolm's chance to nail the black budgeteers and probably his chances for reelection as well just to save herself. "Why did you want to see me?"

"Have you turned on your television this morning?"

Monique shook her head.

"The tape of yesterday's abortion of a press conference is playing everywhere. It's the lead story on all the local newscasts and many of the network broadcasts as well. Was it really that important? Do they really have to show it that much?"