“You sat back and watched as the headlines made her out to be the Black Widow, a woman callous enough about her career to cause a viscount to commit suicide. She was becoming a pariah, more than you had hoped. You were thrilled the bad press embarrassed the president, embarrassed the State Department, and you tried to convince the president to call Natalie back to the U.S. and force her to resign.”
Arliss said to Hainny, “Eric, you told me the president wants me to hear this man out, and I have, but he simply won’t stop. Why are you a party to this . . . slander?”
“I think you will be interested to hear what he says next, Mrs. Abbott,” Hainny said. “The president was.”
Day stepped around his mother, his face flushed, his voice shaking with outrage. “This is crazy! Listen to me, Mr. Hainny, all of you—my mother wouldn’t do anything like this. What Agent Savich is saying is insane. She doesn’t hate Mrs. Black, they’ve been friends forever. Perry and I were practically raised together.”
Savich ignored him, kept his focus on Arliss, but she said, “You will stop this now. I don’t wish my son to hear any more.”
“He is free to leave, Mrs. Abbott,” Hainny said. “You can ask him to.”
“Dammit, I’m not going anywhere!”
Arliss lightly laid her hand over his, squeezed it. Then she looked beyond Savich to Natalie. “You,” she said. “You talked him into this, didn’t you? I know you’ve hated me forever, Natalie—admit it, you’ve been jealous of what I’ve accomplished. You talked him into believing your outlandish story. I am guilty of nothing.”
She turned back to Savich. “I will say, though, that I did believe it was because of Natalie that George committed suicide, and I was not alone in that opinion.”
Savich nodded. “Yes, most people agreed with you, here in the U.S. as well. But the president refused to accept her resignation regardless, though you hoped he’d be forced to, sooner or later.
“That almost happened. But then, out of the blue, someone tried to kill Natalie in her car off the A2 near Canterbury. You had no idea who that was, but the press soon put it out that she was hysterical or, more likely, flat-out lying, twisting a simple accident into an alleged attempt on her life to confuse the public and gain their sympathy. Of course, you knew Natalie was too honest to make something like that up. And, naturally, since you were her friend as well as her boss, she told you all about it. What better reason for you to order her back to the United States, to keep her hidden away until you could force her to resign? Have you figured it out yet, Mrs. Abbott?
“No? George was in touch with his son, William Charles, in the last days of his life. William loved his father, knew how much his father loved Mrs. Black. He knew about the bad publicity surrounding his photograph, knew about the email, though evidently his father died before he could tell his son it was a hoax. So it wasn’t difficult for him to believe his father had fallen apart when Natalie cut off their engagement. He believed she drove his father to kill himself. It was William who returned to England on a forged passport and tried to run her off the highway.
“It was William, too, who followed her back to the United States and tried to run her down in Buckner Park, but he failed again.
“When William Charles attacked Natalie Friday night and Hooley was shot, everything changed. You had to scramble then, Mrs. Abbott. It was all coming too close to home.
“All your finely executed plans, all your successes, were coming apart. Natalie was a U.S. ambassador someone had tried to assassinate—she was a heroine, and the president would back her more than ever. You decided you’d better change sides, and so you did. You joined the president and took the lead in bringing Natalie back into the public eye.”
Savich waited a beat, but Arliss said nothing. She looked composed and faintly bored, her eyes flitting between him and Eric Hainny. She never once looked at Natalie. She looked down at her watch, frowned, as if she was concerned with her next appointment.
Natalie spoke for the first time. “I’m glad I was wrong that George was murdered, Arliss. I’m glad you didn’t try to kill me. But we’ve been friends for so many years. How many years have you smiled at me, laughed with me, shared secrets and tragedies?
“Yet you hate me enough to ruin me, to destroy my reputation and my good name? When you did an about-face in Thorn’s office and supported me, I was so pleased, so happy you believed in me after all. But Agent Savich is right; you had no choice but to back the president. You were protecting yourself.”
Arliss Abbott shook her head. “I don’t hate you, Natalie. I could have no reason to. How could you ever come to believe that? We’ve been friends since we were both twenty years old, sophomores at Yale. You, Brundage, Thornton, and I, we’ve been close our whole lives. I do not know where this is coming from, but it is very wrong of you to be convinced by what Agent Savich is spinning.”
Savich paused, studied her face. “It must have angered you beyond bearing that the president, a man you’d known since college, your most important supporter, didn’t take your advice and ask for Mrs. Black’s resignation as you hoped he would.
“You had to introduce her at the United Nations yourself, call her a heroine in front of the world, when she was your bitterest enemy.
“I wish ruining Natalie was the beginning and ending to it, but you know it’s not. What you couldn’t allow to happen was for your son to marry Perry Black.”
Day yelled, “That is crazy! My mom’s loved Perry since she was born!”
Savich waved Day to quiet. “That’s why the threatening notes to Perry, the trashing of her Harley, the attack on her at her condo. Of course, you knew all about Carlos and Isabel since you and Day have been an intimate part of Natalie’s life. But you wouldn’t have done those things yourself, you could never manage it, anyway, with the DS agents you have guarding you all the time. So did you hire someone to terrorize Perry? Perhaps you’d gotten Natalie’s half-brother, Milton Holmes, involved. Or maybe your assistant, Theodore Reynolds. But neither felt right. Who then? That was the question.
“Everything became clearer after the attack on Perry and Davis last night at her condo. Davis wounded the shooter. We managed to collect blood and get DNA. We collected Davis and Perry’s DNA, as well as yours, Mr. Abbott.
“When the DNA results came back, we knew why your mother couldn’t allow you and Perry to wed. Your father, Quincy Abbott, isn’t your biological father, Brundage Black is.”
Perry said, “We’re second-degree relatives, Day. That means you and I have to be half-brother and -sister.”
Day stood there, shaking his head back and forth, so white Savich thought he might fall over. His mother turned to stone.
“Mom, tell them it’s a mistake! Tell them! My dad—he’s my dad! Tell them, Mom!”
“I’m very sorry, Day,” Natalie said. “So very sorry. I didn’t know.”
Savich said, “It took me only a few minutes, Mrs. Abbott, to map your ex-husband’s recent itineraries to and from Washington, D.C. We found him staying openly at the Rutherford Hotel, not doing much to hide his identity. He has a bullet wound in his upper arm, and I’m quite sure his DNA will match the blood we found at Perry’s condo. We also found a Smith and Wesson we’re checking for ballistics. We have him in custody, and if he’s smart, he’ll cooperate.”
Savich hated the pain he was causing, but he had to get it done. “Day, Mr. Abbott, I am sorry, but your mother and father never wanted you to know the truth about your parentage. I doubt your father knew until recently, and he lost control. He was willing to do anything not to lose his son, or see you marry your own sister. He didn’t want you to have to deal with the knowledge of any of it.
“Mrs. Black had no idea about this, either. She and Brundage had separated for a couple of months before they graduated, then made up and got married. Brundage Black never told her he’d slept with your mother.”
He turned back to Arliss. “Of course, the president didn’t know Brundage was Day
’s father, Mrs. Abbott. But he did know you loved Brundage Black back in your days at Yale. He said everyone knew it except Natalie and Brundage, because they were so involved with each other. He did remember that Brundage got drunk one night and admitted he’d slept with you during his breakup with Natalie. He didn’t think Brundage ever told Natalie because he didn’t want to hurt her or to hurt the friendship between the two of you. Brundage thought your time together was a mistake, and he was profoundly sorry.”
Savich didn’t think he’d ever seen a person stand so very silent. She’d retreated into herself, trying somehow to shield herself. He didn’t want to say the rest, but he had to. “You got pregnant, Mrs. Abbott, but you couldn’t tell Brundage because he and Natalie were already married. You didn’t tell anyone, not even Quincy Abbott, the man you married two weeks later. You kept it from everyone for more than thirty years until you had no choice. From the moment Day told you he intended to marry Perry, and you couldn’t talk him out of it, you realized you needed help, and you turned to your ex-husband, Quincy Abbott.”
Day Abbott suddenly looked like a boy, afraid of what had just happened, not wanting to accept it. “Mom, tell me this isn’t true. Please tell me this is all a mistake.”
Arliss opened her mouth, closed it again. She reached out to her son, but he flinched away from her. He looked at Perry, whispered, “You’re really my sister, Perry? I wanted to marry my sister? How can that be? No, that can’t be right. My dad is the best; he’s always been there for me. Even after he and mom divorced and he moved to Colorado and remarried, even after he had two kids, I was still the one closest to him. He’s always helped me, even in college, he—” His voice broke off, as if he’d run out of words.
Natalie said to Arliss, “I never realized you were in love with Brundage. I suppose I should have seen it, but what Thorn said is true. Brundage and I were so involved with each other we sometimes didn’t see other people clearly.” She fell silent for a moment, and Perry knew she was looking into the past. “It was always like that between us until he died. Arliss, I’m very sorry we both let you down.”
Arliss finally spoke again, her quiet words sounding loudly in the silent room. “Brundage did see me, Natalie, even if you didn’t. After we slept together, I knew he loved me. He went back to you because he felt guilty.”
Natalie said, “No, Arliss. It’s what you’d like to believe, but it isn’t true. We had a wonderful life together. You know his death nearly broke me, it was so sudden, and he was so very young.”
“You thought you were alone? Dammit, Natalie, his dying broke me, too! I couldn’t believe Brundage died, he always seemed so invincible. I hated him when he died.” She looked away from all of them. “Do you know he never even thought to ask me if I’d gotten pregnant, even though he had to wonder about my sudden marriage to Quincy?”
Eric Hainny stepped forward. “Madame Secretary, I am here on the president’s behalf to request your resignation, effective immediately. Your lawyers and the White House will work out how and when your stepping down will be announced to the world.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. “If you resign voluntarily, the president will see to it there is a suitable period before the Justice Department considers any criminal or civil charges.”
Day Abbott said to Savich, “I want to see my father. I want to see him now.” On his way out the door, he stopped beside Perry, simply looked at her. “You’re my sister. I wonder if I’ll ever see you as a sister,” and Day Abbott walked from his mother’s office.
Sherlock watched the secretary of state walk to her desk, sit down in the high-backed leather chair, take a Montblanc from her pen tray, and sign her name to the paper. She never read it.
Savich’s house
Wednesday evening
Perry stood in the living room doorway for a moment, her eyes on her mother. She’d been through so much since George had died—his son William Charles, Arliss, Day, the press—but she’d kept it together, managed to protect and support Perry through all of it. And Hooley and Connie, too. Tonight, Perry thought, was for her mom.
She announced from the doorway, “I’ve got steaming-hot pizzas from Dizzy Dan’s, veggie for Dillon and pepperoni and sausage for the rest of us, all waiting on the dining room table.”
Sherlock said, “We’ve even got nice paper plates and a big bottle of champagne.”
Pizza, Natalie thought, as she rose, smiling, toward her daughter—when was the last time she’d bit into cheese so hot her teeth burned? She knew very well why her daughter had insisted they all come over to the Savich household tonight—to cheer her up, as well as celebrate their victory. What an odd way to think of bringing down George’s son and learning her best friend had betrayed her. Well, I’m still alive, so if that isn’t a victory I don’t know what is. A victory. She’d take it. Natalie was thinking she did indeed need cheering up, maybe even a victory dance, but what she needed more was time to come to grips with all that had happened. But after the pizza and after tonight.
Once the champagne was poured, Perry raised her glass. “Mom, it’s over and we’re all safe, thanks to everyone here and Hooley and Connie. Let’s drink up before the pizza’s cold.”
Halfway into her second slice of pizza, Natalie said, “Is there any more news since this morning about William?”
Savich wiped his hands on a napkin. “I know Homeland Security spoke to him today at the federal prison infirmary at Lockport. The doctors are very encouraging about his wound. Oh, yes, and Sir Giles Lamont-Smythe, the British ambassador, visited with him and acknowledged him as Viscount Lockenby. He said the British government has no reason to bring charges against William at the moment, since they have no proof he broke any British laws. He said he’d be speaking with you, Natalie.”
“Yes, Giles called me this afternoon. He’s a nice man, a friend of George’s for years. He was happy it’s over. I’m pleased Scotland Yard has ended the investigation. If they consider any future charges that have anything to do with me, I told him I wouldn’t be a party to it. I might as well tell you now—I’m going to try to get as many of the charges as I can against William dropped here at home.”
“Mom, he nearly killed Hooley.”
Davis said, “Natalie, are you certain about this? He’s dangerous, unstable, and Perry’s right, he nearly killed Hooley, not to mention a United States ambassador—namely, you.”
Natalie looked at the sea of baffled faces. “I know he’ll go to prison for what he did to Mark, but please try to understand. No matter what else he is, William Charles is George’s son. No matter William up and left England at eighteen to search out who he was and where he belonged, George loved him dearly. And William loved him, none of you can doubt that.
“I can’t, I simply can’t destroy the son his father loved so very much. Yes, I know he will go to prison, but I won’t contribute to throwing away the key. For George’s sake, I’m going to try to help him.” She smiled at all of them. “Perhaps in the process, he’ll come to believe I wasn’t responsible for his father’s death. Perhaps soon, William and I can grieve for his father together.”
She was a romantic, a complete over-the-top optimist, Savich thought. He himself couldn’t begin to guess if William Charles McCallum was even capable of changing his mind, but he prayed she was right. He said, “I suppose you’ll also be speaking to Director Comey?”
Natalie nodded.
Perry said, “I hope you didn’t tell him to go easy on Arliss, Mom. After the lengths she went to destroy you, I hope she does go to prison. Do you think she will, Dillon?”
“Your mother can answer that better than I can, Perry.”
Natalie said, “I think the president will want to remove her quietly, with the classic excuse of family obligations as the reason for her resignation, and if that’s so, then the Justice Department will go along. A trial and possible jail time? I strongly doubt it.”
“But still, look what she did, Mom—” Perry b
egan.
Natalie took her hand. “She’s lost everything she ever wanted, Perry, everything she had, except your father, and she never had him. Her position, her future, her reputation, and now she might lose her son. Have you spoken with Day, Perry?”
“I caught him on the phone this morning at the airport. He’s in Colorado today with his dad’s family, trying to explain what happened, trying to support his stepmother. He said she and his half-sisters really need him. I asked Day what his father had told him when he saw him at the Hoover Building yesterday. He told me all his father said was that he loved him, and he’d have blown up the White House to keep him from being hurt. Hurt? Day said he laughed when his father said that. He still doesn’t understand why they didn’t tell him, but his father didn’t explain. I agree with him. Day’s a grown man, for heaven’s sake.
“As for his mother, Day thinks it had more to do with her career and her reputation than with protecting him. I know he’ll always be there for his father, and I think that’s very good, for both of them.”
Natalie said, “I wonder how Day’s life, how all of our lives, would have been different if we’d known Brundage was his father. I hope that if I’d been told, I would have come to see Day was another part of Brundage, just as you are, Perry, and I think I would have come to love him as my husband’s son.
“I called Day yesterday as well. He didn’t want to speak to me. It wasn’t that he was mad at me, nothing like that. It was just that he sounded so very hurt, like if he didn’t talk about it then it wouldn’t be true. It will take him a while to come to grips with it. Day doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to call him every day.”
Perry said, “Do you want to know something? I couldn’t imagine finding out you’re not my mother.”
Natalie laughed. “Not much chance of that, sweetie.” She looked over at Davis, who was smiling at her as he chewed on a slice of pepperoni. “It’s been a week and a half, and our lives have changed so much. Particularly yours, Perry.”