you've got a pack?" he asked with a warm smile. "Didn't think so. All right. Me and Mr. Talkative here will be around. Come on," he said to Lily, "you drive. Let's grab a bite and let this guy go to work." He looked upward again and in a fading voice Powers heard him say, "Damn I hate these late nights. The missus is gonna give me hell."
~
Powers stepped quickly to his meeting with Alta Fort, scanning M Street for a cruising taxi. What had been presented to him as relatively straight forward blackmail had quickly turned into something for which the permutations were almost endless. He had to assume there was no direct proof that Marei was an actual agent. Surely even a President as licentious as Tufts would refuse to see a known spy. Karp had suggested the woman's loyalties were suspect. The President sounded confident of her, but Karp had said he wasn't.
Not that Powers trusted Karp – or Tufts for that matter. He understood the type and was leery of Tuft’s account as he was Karp's version of events. Shanken and Lily didn’t make it any easier. The last time Powers had seen someone like Lily had been when the Chicago outfit had sent an out-of-town specialist to St. Louis to clean up loose ends after a turf fight with the Russian mob. He'd been efficient and low key. They'd never found a body resulting from his handiwork.
The reality was that almost anyone could have attacked Marei and now had the tapes. He couldn't rule out Iraqis, or any group for that matter which was opposed to the looming war. Run with it long enough and Powers could come up with reasons why someone in favor of a war would be after the tapes. It was all a question of exercising power over the President and directing American foreign policy. That was going to be a long list.
He might not even have to go that far, Powers realized. Most murders were a lot simpler than they appeared and strangers rarely killed other strangers, despite the impression given by the media and films.
Alta had warned him that the President was obsessed with Marei. What if she told him what she'd set in motion and he flipped out, killed her then took back his own tapes? Becky wouldn't know and had asked Powers to step into a quagmire.
Tufts hadn't acted like a man with blood on his hands but Powers had investigated or observed enough killers over the years to know they weren't all drunks or lunatics. A politician as skilled at masking his true feelings as the President could be expected to hide a little murder between friends.
This placed Karp’s actions in a very different light. What was he really up to? Covering for Tufts? Or maybe he was running his own game and wanted his suspicions confirmed. Then again, maybe what Karp told Powers in the car was the truth.
A warning had been nagging at him since before leaving the limousine. Something in what Karp said, or in his voice, or manner. Powers posed the thought as a question.
What if he were the patsy?
SIX
The Tidal Basin, 10:42 p.m.
The wind was kicking up and there were intermittent drops of rain by the time Powers arrived at the Tidal Basin rendezvous. Alta Fort was wrapped in a lightweight charcoal raincoat and stood in the shadow of the last cherry tree which lined the adjacent walk. She lifted a casual hand to Powers though he had spotted her some distance away where he told the taxi driver to drop him. As soon as he approached she scowled and spoke in a sharp voice. "You're late! You call and say you've got trouble, then you keep me waiting. You're supposed to be a professional!"
"I was picked up."
Her manner changed abruptly. "Who was it?"
"Let's stroll. We'll be less conspicuous." He turned back towards the Lincoln Memorial and Independence Avenue. Braced by the growing wind the water aggressively lapped beside them. "It was Karp and two thugs."
"Marty? Then the others would have been Mutt and Jeff. That's what we call Chesty Shanken, and that creep who hangs around with him. You
~
Powers stepped quickly to his meeting with Alta Fort, scanning M Street for a cruising taxi. What had been presented to him as relatively straight forward blackmail had quickly turned into something for which the permutations were almost endless. He had to assume there was no direct proof that Marei was an actual agent. Surely even a President as licentious as Tufts would refuse to see a known spy. Karp had suggested the woman's loyalties were suspect. The President sounded confident of her, but Karp had said he wasn't.
Not that Powers trusted Karp – or Tufts for that matter. He understood the type and was leery of Tuft’s account as he was Karp's version of events. Shanken and Lily didn’t make it any easier. The last time Powers had seen someone like Lily had been when the Chicago outfit had sent an out-of-town specialist to St. Louis to clean up loose ends after a turf fight with the Russian mob. He'd been efficient and low key. They'd never found a body resulting from his handiwork.
The reality was that almost anyone could have attacked Marei and now had the tapes. He couldn't rule out Iraqis, or any group for that matter which was opposed to the looming war. Run with it long enough and Powers could come up with reasons why someone in favor of a war would be after the tapes. It was all a question of exercising power over the President and directing American foreign policy. That was going to be a long list.
He might not even have to go that far, Powers realized. Most murders were a lot simpler than they appeared and strangers rarely killed other strangers, despite the impression given by the media and films.
Alta had warned him that the President was obsessed with Marei. What if she told him what she'd set in motion and he flipped out, killed her then took back his own tapes? Becky wouldn't know and had asked Powers to step into a quagmire.
Tufts hadn't acted like a man with blood on his hands but Powers had investigated or observed enough killers over the years to know they weren't all drunks or lunatics. A politician as skilled at masking his true feelings as the President could be expected to hide a little murder between friends.
This placed Karp’s actions in a very different light. What was he really up to? Covering for Tufts? Or maybe he was running his own game and wanted his suspicions confirmed. Then again, maybe what Karp told Powers in the car was the truth.
A warning had been nagging at him since before leaving the limousine. Something in what Karp said, or in his voice, or manner. Powers posed the thought as a question.
What if he were the patsy?
SIX
The Tidal Basin, 10:42 p.m.
The wind was kicking up and there were intermittent drops of rain by the time Powers arrived at the Tidal Basin rendezvous. Alta Fort was wrapped in a lightweight charcoal raincoat and stood in the shadow of the last cherry tree which lined the adjacent walk. She lifted a casual hand to Powers though he had spotted her some distance away where he told the taxi driver to drop him. As soon as he approached she scowled and spoke in a sharp voice. "You're late! You call and say you've got trouble, then you keep me waiting. You're supposed to be a professional!"
"I was picked up."
Her manner changed abruptly. "Who was it?"
"Let's stroll. We'll be less conspicuous." He turned back towards the Lincoln Memorial and Independence Avenue. Braced by the growing wind the water aggressively lapped beside them. "It was Karp and two thugs."
"Marty? Then the others would have been Mutt and Jeff. That's what we call Chesty Shanken, and that creep who hangs around with him. You
Similar Books
