“Mason, are you still with me? Did your security guy just report back failure to you?”
Quantrell almost knocked his chair over as he jumped up and looked wildly around his office for a set of eyes, electronic or human, peering at him from somewhere.
“Calm down, Mason. Just calm down. I can’t see you. I just know you. I know you very well. You’re predictable with a capital P.”
“What the hell game are you playing, Bunting?” Quantrell yelled into the phone.
“No game, Mason. But it’s obvious you have no interest in what I have to say. Now when Foster’s men come to arrest you, what are you going to do?”
Quantrell’s gut clenched so hard this time, he nearly doubled over. “Foster?”
“Did you really think you were going to walk away on equal terms with her? She’s way too smart for that.”
Quantrell slumped in his chair. “What are you getting at?”
“It was your guys who did all the heavy lifting, am I right? Planted the six bodies in Edgar’s barn. Killed Murdock, Dukes—”
“Now wait just a minute.”
“She played you, Mason. And now it’s unraveling, so she’s activated her survival plan. She’s going to wipe the floor with you. Poor, trusting Cabinet secretary and sleazy defense contractor. Don’t feel bad. It’s not that original. It’s the same trap you laid for me. At least I was nimble enough to get the hell out of town. You, on the other hand, are sitting in your big, fancy office with a bull’s-eye on your head.”
“You… there is no proof. I can… I have friends. Allies.”
“Yeah, I thought I had them, too. That is, before Foster turned them all against me. Which is what she’s probably doing to you right now. And you know how persuasive the lady can be. I wonder if she’s met with the president yet to update him on your treachery?”
“What treachery?” Quantrell snapped.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? The memory cards from the surveillance cameras were delivered to her this morning along with a detailed report of what they represent. You see, I had a secret asset still at Cutter’s who came through for me in the clutch. Just call it a nice present from me. It’ll be more than enough for an indictment. Your business will be disqualified from performing any more government work, and since that’s all you do, you have no more business. But you won’t care. You’ll be in a federal cage where big, tough guys with time on their hands will want to get to know you very well.”
“But I can take that bitch Foster down. I can—I know things—”
“She’s too smart for that, Mason. He said, she said. And she’s a Cabinet secretary, and your reputation proceeds you. And it’s not a good one. Why do you think she chose you to work with, you moron?”
The blood slowly drained from Quantrell’s face as this all sank in. He licked his lips and said slowly, “You spoke about an out.”
“Yeah, I did. Want to hear it?”
Quantrell coughed, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat. He croaked, “Yes, I do.”
“Good. Sit tight and I’ll get back to you.”
Quantrell screamed into the phone, but Bunting had already clicked off.
CHAPTER
75
IT WAS A FUND-RAISING GALA at Lincoln Center. The stars were out from both coasts. Peter Bunting’s wife was on the Lincoln board and had helped spearhead the event. She was not here tonight because of her recent illness, but she had found someone who could use her comp ticket.
Kelly Paul, tall and regal, and wearing a long gown with her hair tucked up except for a few dangling strands, walked along one of the corridors of the Center, a glass of Bordeaux in hand. People stared and commented on her, though they didn’t know who she was.
Paul was here for only one reason. And she had finally spotted it.
Or, more accurately, spotted her.
Ellen Foster did not look very comfortable. It was not just the problem of Edgar Roy weighing on her mind. It was a matter of being at an event where she was far from the center of attention. Her public fame was limited, though she had more public power than anyone in the building. But that didn’t seem to matter when a gaggle of guests nearly ran over you in their quest to corner the latest Hollywood or singing sensation.
Foster walked along with a glass of champagne in hand, stealthily looking for anyone who might recognize her so she could do a bit of preening. Failing to find anyone interested in her, Foster decided to visit the ladies’ room.
Inside the ladies’ room, while she was reapplying her lipstick, Foster heard a voice.
“Hello, Ellen.”
She froze but only for an instant. She glanced in the mirror, saw no one.
“I locked the door. We won’t be disturbed.”
Foster slowly turned. “I’m armed.”
“No, you’re not.”
Kelly Paul emerged from the shadows and faced her. Even in her three-inch heels Foster was dwarfed by the other woman.
“Kelly Paul?” Foster shook her head. “You have unbelievable balls to be doing this.”
“Doing what? Taking a pee? Don’t they allow that at Lincoln Center anymore?”
Foster rested her rump on the granite sink and folded her arms across her chest.
“I could have you arrested right now.”
“For what?”
“Any number of things.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“I really don’t have time for this.”
“Peter Bunting?” said Paul.
“What about him?”
“You set him up nicely.”
“On the contrary, he dug his own grave.”
Paul held up her hands. “Check me for a wire if you want. You can be frank.”
Foster looked at her like she had lost her mind. “I need to get back to the party. And just in case you’re looking to get away, my men have all the exits locked down. I’ll look forward to seeing how many charges are filed against you.”
Foster started to walk out.
“It’s interesting about Mason Quantrell, isn’t it?”
Foster paused, her hand on the doorknob.
“Who?” she said.
“The Mercury Group? Mason Quantrell. Your partner in crime?”
“It’s appalling to see how far you’ve fallen. You used to be somewhat special. This performance is about as amateur and pathetic as I’ve ever seen.”
“Bunting is a very smart man. He outfoxed Quantrell,” said Paul. “He connected the dots and found the proof. Quantrell knows he’s going down for it. But he’s also looking to work a deal with the FBI. Care to guess what they’ll want in return?”
Foster just stood there, staring at her.
“Is this still an amateur production, Ellen?”
“I’m listening, if only for my own amusement.” However, the woman’s confidence was clearly diminished.
“The story won’t take long. Quantrell is about to rat you out.”
Foster managed a smile. “About what?”
Paul ticked them off on her left hand. “The six bodies in the barn. A dead lawyer and his secretary. A dead director of Cutter’s. A dead Maine state trooper. And most of all a dead FBI agent. The boys at Hoover really get pissed when you take out one of their own. And you didn’t have to, Ellen. So what if he found out about the E-Program? Did you really need to do that? He had three kids.”
“This is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want my brother back, safe and sound. And I need you to do that.”
For the first time uncertainty crept into Foster’s eyes. “Your brother was broken out of Cutter’s Rock by people impersonating FBI agents. By you, in other words.”
“That was Quantrell’s people and you know it.”
“
But—”
“But what? Did he feed you some bullshit that the plan didn’t go off? That he lost my brother?” Paul drew closer to the other woman. “I want Eddie back, Ellen. And one way or another I will get him back.” She paused and a look of incredulity came over her features as she studied the vacuous look on the other woman’s face. “Did Quantrell play you, too? Did he tell you that he would snatch Roy and then kill him? Blame Bunting? Hell, Bunting’s ass is already fried. The E-Program is over. You didn’t need Eddie for that. That’s just piling it on. My brother could just rot in that prison; it would make no difference to you. You already won. Didn’t you get that?”
She drew closer still, so she was looking right down at Foster. “Eddie is innocent. I couldn’t care less about the E-Program, but I’ll be damned if my brother is going to lose his life so you can score a useless victory over Peter Bunting. By now you must know the guy tricked you with his wife attempting suicide. He’s already gone somewhere that doesn’t extradite here.”
“I don’t know where your brother is, that’s the truth,” Foster said slowly.
Paul took a step back. “Then my coming to see you was a waste of time.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Foster answered in a hushed voice.
Paul said, “You’re the head of DHS, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to think this shit through, Ellen. And aligning yourself with Quantrell? Where did that brilliant idea come from? You knew that Bunting kicked his ass with the E-Program. So you had to know he wasn’t in the same league with Bunting brainwise. Did you think Bunting would just roll over and give up? He could eat Quantrell’s lunch any day of the week. You really picked your ally very poorly. Who the hell advised you to do that?”
Foster was clearly now in full retreat mode. “I didn’t… I mean—We can get Bunting—”
Paul didn’t let her finish. “Good God, haven’t you been listening to me? Your people lost track of Bunting. They have no idea where he is. The man is gone!”
Foster said nothing to this. Her mouth was moving but no words came out.
“You backed Bunting into a corner, but the man always has an out. And Quantrell was stupid enough to deliver it to him. But Quantrell was also smart enough to obviously recognize something you apparently didn’t.”
“What are you—”
“Edgar Roy? A true E-Six? Only one on the planet? Do you know what he would be worth to this country’s enemies? Do you know how much Quantrell could sell him for?”
“He would never work for another country.”
“Who, my brother or Quantrell?”
“Either.”
“Did you know that when Quantrell was first starting out he was almost banned from government contracting work because he sold restricted weapons parts to China? He only got out of it through his fancy lawyers and blaming it on a subordinate. He’d sell his own mother to Kim Jong-Il if he thought he could make money. And while it’s true my brother would never knowingly work against his country, don’t you think the Russians or the North Koreans or the Syrians couldn’t find a way to persuade him? Their torture techniques are old-school but they’re still highly effective. Trust me, I know.”
“So you’re saying Quantrell—”
“Of course he double-crossed you. That’s how he’s wired. And now that Bunting kicked his ass and saved himself, Quantrell’s going to throw you under the bus to save his ass. It’s called dominos for adults. Which leaves my brother in total limbo right now. Which is not good. He’s a loose end, and they don’t have long life expectancies.”
Foster was now tottering a bit in her three-inch heels.
Paul took the woman’s hand off the doorknob and unlocked it. “But since it’s now quite apparent that you were too stupid to see any of this coming and you possess absolutely nothing that can help me, I’ll just have to look elsewhere for what I need. Besides, what can you do from a jail cell, anyway?”
She pointed at a corner of Foster’s mouth. “You went outside the lines a bit there. Might want to fix that for your mug shot.”
Paul closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER
76
MICHELLE WAS DRIVING.
Sean was shotgun.
Edgar Roy was in the backseat of the van.
The drive had been long and they had stopped only twice, for bathroom breaks. When they pulled down the country lane, Michelle slowed the van.
“I know Bunting told us we were off grid when we came here before to meet Kelly Paul, but this case has given me a large case of paranoia.”
Sean nodded as his gaze swept the area. It was the perfect place for an ambush.
“But other things being equal it’s better than checking into a motel.”
“Only if we don’t end up getting killed,” Roy said.
Sean looked at him in surprise. Roy had spent most of the trip in silence.
“A brilliant observation,” said Michelle sarcastically. She put the van in park and glanced sideways at Sean. “Plan?”
“I can always sneak up there, and if someone is waiting for us, they can kill me and you can get away.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I was kidding.”
“I know. I’ll go.”
“I’m not letting you do that, Michelle.”
“I don’t remember asking for permission, sire.”
“Do you two always talk this way?” asked Roy.
They both stared at him.
“What way?” barked Michelle, her gaze boring into him.
“Uh, never mind,” said Roy. He looked down at his hands.
Sean said, “We can drive past, see if anyone comes after us.”
“Or we can set up a recon point on that hill over there, hunker down, and watch the place,” replied Michelle.
“Or we can just do it the old-fashioned way,” said Sean.
“What does that mean?” asked Roy.
“Wait in the van,” said Michelle. “And don’t open the door to strangers.”
They approached the house from back and front. It took them all of ten minutes to clear it. The farmhouse was empty and looked just like it had when they had been there previously. Michelle drove the van into the barn behind the house, and she and Roy got out and walked toward the house after Michelle closed the barn doors.
“This is my sister’s place?” said Roy, gazing around.
“For now, I guess. I assume she doesn’t stay in one place for long periods of time?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“But you two have obviously stayed close. She’s risked a lot to help.”
“She’s always protected me.”
Sean came onto the front porch and overheard this. “Have you needed protection a lot?”
“Yes, I guess I have.”