Conspiracy (30 page)

* * *

Back in the Jeep, Taylor was steaming. "That scumbag. Some people have no shame."

Cady glanced at his watch. "I checked the flight schedule this morning. If we hustle, we can make the last afternoon plane out of San Fran back to Washington."

She muttered, "I can't believe it. The senator's dead because of that asshole."

"We're going for it," Cady said. "I hate red-eyes." He floored the accelerator, and they tore down the Silverado Trail.

"So let's take stock of where we are," she said. She patted her briefcase. "We've got a written affidavit from Knowles. That's powerful evidence to use against Thompson and McDermott."

"Precisely. We also know that our thinking about Sato was wrong. It was McDermott and Pug Thompson, which is what you thought at first, and which is logical."

"So how do we go after an attorney general?" she asked.

Cady sped into the left lane to pass a slow-moving truck. "We keep eating the little fish," he said. "Then when we're ready to go after the shark, we call in a big fish of our own to help us out."

 

 

 

Chapter 23

 

It was midnight when they arrived at Dulles Airport. "I've got a car here," Cady said. "I'll take you home."

They climbed into his XK8 Jaguar convertible, in British racing green, and roared down the airport access road toward Washington. She heard him saying something about their plans for tomorrow, but she couldn't stay awake. The motion of the car after the long flight and the grueling last several days was putting her to sleep. "You're right, C.J.," she mumbled.

"Right about what?"

"I don't know," she replied, and she was out.

Twenty-five minutes later he pulled up in front of the Watergate apartment building and nudged her. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. You're home."

Taylor yawned. "A very fast ride."

As she reached for the door handle, Cady put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be back here at eight tomorrow morning to get you."

She squeezed his hand. "Thanks, C.J."

He decided to wait until she was inside the building to pull away.

* * *

Cady wasn't the only one watching Taylor. Across Virginia Avenue in a hotel room that had a clear view of the entrance of the Watergate apartment, Terasawa stood at the window with high-powered binoculars pressed against his eyes. He had never seen Taylor before, but he had been given a picture. He recognized her immediately with that long black hair. He was glad she was finally home. He felt uncomfortable in this high-rent part of Washington, where he might stand out. Much safer was the seedy Capitol City Motel on New York Avenue, where he had been staying before. He had kept his room at that hot pillow joint. People went in and out all the time. No one noticed anyone else.

Terasawa jotted down the license plate number of the car that had dropped Taylor off, just in case. In another five minutes or so she would walk into her apartment, and bam. He smacked his right fist into the palm of his left hand. That would be the end of her.

* * *

Once Cady saw Taylor enter the apartment building, he eased his XK8 away from the curb.
Dammit.
He remembered that she wasn't wearing the wig and the rest of the Caroline Corbin disguise. With everything that had happened in Napa, he had forgotten about it. Tomorrow morning he'd insist that she begin wearing it. In the Russian mobster case he had just finished, Kuznov had killed two witnesses with a powerful bomb in their apartment. Taylor had to understand that dangerous people did horrible things when they were cornered.

Though he knew that, he had still been surprised that Kuznov had someone plant the bomb. He never thought—

"Oh, my God," Cady cried out. "Oh, my God."

He did a 180-degree turn and roared back to the Watergate. These people were as dangerous as Kuznov and his gang.

He slammed to a stop in front of the building. Waving his DOJ identification in his hand, he ran up to the door. "Please," he said to the doorman. "We've got to stop Taylor Ferrari before she gets to her apartment. There could be a bomb. Please, it's life and death."

His desperation was so genuine that the doorman, who liked Taylor, waved Cady through and pointed to the elevators. "Eight-oh-four is her apartment."

Riding up in the elevator, Cady felt a twinge of foolishness. What if there was no bomb? He'd seem like an idiot. Still, he couldn't take the chance.

Nervously he glanced at his watch.
Shit.
It had already been several minutes. She was probably opening the door right now while this elevator crawled along.
I should have taken the stairs. I'd be there already.

The instant the door opened, Cady looked down the hall. Taylor was walking with a duffel bag in one hand and the mail she had stopped for in the lobby in the other. He began running and shouting, "Taylor. Taylor."

At first she didn't hear him. She stopped in front of her apartment, the key in her hand.

"Don't go in there!" he screamed.

His momentum carried him into Taylor, and the two of them tumbled to the floor, scattering her mail. "Thank God I caught you in time," he cried out.

She was flabbergasted. "You want to tell me what this is all about, C.J.?"

He explained it to her as he helped her gather up envelopes.

"Do you really think that—" she started to ask.

Cady cut her off. "I didn't think so in my Russian case, and I ended up with two dead witnesses. I've gotten to like you more than either of them. I don't want to lose you."

She flashed him a grateful smile. Out in California, she'd gotten to like him too. "That's very sweet, C.J. What do you want to do now? Suppose I open the door carefully and look around. See if anything's been disturbed."

He wouldn't hear of it. "We need a professional. You and I will never be able to tell. If we find something, we won't know what to do." He whipped out his cell phone. "I'm calling the FBI bomb squad. You don't set foot in there until they say it's okay."

* * *

An hour and a half passed before the bomb squad, with great care, disconnected the powerful bomb that had been planted in Taylor's apartment.

Shell-shocked, Taylor was sitting down, leaning against the hallway wall.

"Pack a bag," Cady said. "You can stay with me until this is over."

He carried the duffel with her things to the car. As they pulled away in the XK8, he said to her, "Dammit, Taylor. Put on that blond wig and the rest of the Caroline Corbin disguise. I don't care how much it itches."

She didn't respond. Tears were running down her cheeks.

He leaned over and gently fastened her seat belt. "We're going to my house," he said. "You'll be safe there."

* * *

Across the street, Terasawa cursed when the Jaguar pulled away with Taylor inside. He knew what would happen once he saw the driver come back, then the van with the words
Bomb Squad
painted in red letters.

He couldn't believe they had thwarted his plan. Well, it wasn't over yet. He had the license plate of the Jaguar. She was probably going to stay with the driver. In the morning Terasawa would find a way of getting his name and address from the D.C. motor vehicle office.

Terasawa was a patient man. Taylor wasn't going anywhere.

 

 

 

Chapter 24

 

Taylor woke with a start and sat up in bed when she heard a door slam downstairs. The bedroom was strange. It took her a few seconds to remember what had happened last night and that she was in Cady's house.

She heard footsteps on the stairs, coming her way. That had to be Cady, she thought, but what if it wasn't? She wrapped the sheet tight around her upper body and held her breath.

The footsteps were getting closer. Suddenly a face appeared in the doorway. It was Cady, carrying two mugs of coffee and the morning newspaper. Taylor let out a sigh of relief.

"Did you sleep all right?"

As he sat on the bed, she clutched him tightly, remembering the bomb that had been planted in her apartment. If Cady hadn't come back when he did, she would have been killed. Her body quivered against his, and she began to cry.

"You don't have to worry. It's over now."

"Those people will try again. You know that, C.J."

"They'll never be able to find you. They have no idea you're with me."

When Taylor finally pulled away from him, he stood up.

He tossed her a blue terry-cloth bathrobe and said cheerfully, "Breakfast is on the kitchen table."

Fifteen minutes later Taylor was in the kitchen munching a piece of toast when the sound of sirens shattered the morning calm. A wave of panic engulfed her as she heard a commotion outside on the street in front of the house. She watched Cady cross quickly to the living room window. On his way, he grabbed the gun lying on the shelf above the fireplace. She was two steps behind him.

Out on the street they saw two blue-and-white D.C. police cruisers and an unmarked black Chevy Caprice. Cady, gripping the gun hard, carefully watched the figures who stepped out of the car.

"Clint Perry," he said to her. "A member of the local D.A.'s office. I know him fairly well."

"Why are they here?"

"My guess is that he's legit, but I'm not going to take any chances. I'll stall him for a few minutes. You go upstairs and put on the blond wig. Then return to the kitchen. Get ready to play the bimbo. Look like you're hungover. Just keep your purse and your Caroline Corbin ID nearby."

He stuck the gun in the drawer of an end table.

"Should I get dressed?" she asked.

"What do you have on under the robe?"

"Nothing."

"Leave it that way. If the going gets tough, let the robe open a bit and show them a little tit. It distracts cops every time. And if it really gets tough—"

"You're a sexist pig."

He held up his hands in innocence. "You want to end up in a Mississippi jail? Or even worse, if these guys figure out who you are?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Then do what I said."

She was hastily adjusting her wig in his powder room mirror as the doorbell rang.

Cody waited until she emerged and sat back down at the kitchen table. "All right, all right, I'm coming," he shouted.

"Sorry to bother you," Perry said when he opened the door, "but we're looking for a woman by the name of Taylor Ferrari. We've got a Mississippi extradition order for her. We're supposed to fly her down to Jackson. I'll show you a picture."

Listening in the kitchen, Taylor held her breath.

"I don't need a picture, Clint," Cady replied casually. "I know Taylor Ferrari from the Boyd case. I haven't seen her since the grand jury last week. Why would you possibly think she was here?"

"We got a tip this morning."

"A tip from whom?"

Perry shrugged. "I don't know. It was phoned in. Guy knew all the details."

Cody seemed genuinely puzzled as he said, "Well, your tip was wrong. She's not here."

"You mind if we look around? I'll have to file a report. Even though I know you and it's your house, I'd better do this according to the book."

"Be my guest."

Through the open kitchen door, Taylor saw one uniformed policeman go upstairs to look around. Another one went down to the basement.

Cady took Perry aside, close to the kitchen door. "Listen, Clint, last night I picked up this broad in Georgetown. A real looker, with a shape like you wouldn't believe."

"You must have had a hell of a night then."

"Actually, we did. Anyway, she's in the kitchen now. I don't want you guys scaring her away."

Perry smiled at Cady and gave him a thumbs-up.

"I'll owe you for this," Cady added.

Perry went into the kitchen himself and scrutinized Taylor carefully. "D.C. police," he said. "Can I ask your name?"

"Caroline Corbin," she said, sounding intimidated by the police.

"Can I see some ID?"

She got up from the table to get her purse, which was on the counter next to the sink. From the corner of her eye she was watching Cady, and his advice—show them a little tit—popped into her mind. She'd be damned if she would do that. She pulled the belt, and the blue robe tightened in the front. She handed Perry her driver's license and one of her credit cards.