Power Play (An FBI Thriller) (35 page)

A
rliss Abbott felt a surge of impatience when the door opened with no warning and without her permission. When she saw Agent Savich, her impatience morphed into rage and a dollop of fear she refused to acknowledge. She saw Eric Hainny, and stilled. He looked grimmer than he’d been when the president seemed to be losing Florida in the last election. Her heart kettle-drummed in her chest when she saw Natalie and Perry, as well as Davis Sullivan and Savich’s wife, Agent Sherlock, behind them.

She quickly regained control. She was the secretary of state, she never panicked, and she wouldn’t start now in front of these bureaucrats and glorified policemen. She would deal with anything this group had to say. Why was Hainny here?

She felt Day lightly lay his fingers on her arm. She saw he was staring at Perry, such hunger in his eyes it made her want to weep. Day, her son, her precious son. She took his hand, squeezed it, said low, “Listen to me, Day. This is important. Don’t say anything, all right? I’ll handle this.”

She stepped forward, effectively blocking him. She said to Hainny, her voice brusque, “Eric, please tell me what you’re doing here. What do these people want?”

Hainny said, “We’re all here at the behest of the president, Mrs.
Abbott. As of this moment, I am here as an observer of the FBI, to be sure you hear them out.”

Day didn’t understand. He stared at Perry, willing her to look at him, but she didn’t. She was standing with her mother, holding her hand. She looked pale and resolute, and Mrs. Black looked immensely sad. What was this all about? He looked at Sullivan, felt a leap of anger that Sullivan knew but he didn’t.

“Very well, Eric. What is it you want, then, Agent Savich?” Arliss asked him.

“Madame Secretary, we can begin with that photo of William Charles McCallum taken by a United States intelligence operative in northern Syria over a month ago. We knew it was forwarded to the NSA and it was they who identified that apparent jihadist as the son of Mrs. Black’s fiancé, George McCallum. They recognized the possible repercussions of that photo to Mrs. Black and to the State Department, and so they forwarded the encrypted photo and its particulars directly to your office.

“It seemed obvious to them that you would inform Mrs. Black and the president of the photo discreetly. Instead, you arranged to leak it to the British press.”

Arliss said, “Yes, of course the NSA sent me the photo. However, before I could consult with the president and Mrs. Black, it was leaked to the British press. Who was responsible for this, I don’t know.”

“And yet you never let Mrs. Black or the president know about the photo, even after it was released,” Savich said. “You followed that with the crass email you arranged to have sent from Mrs. Black’s private email account to George McCallum that made it appear she was abandoning him because of his son. You had corresponded with Natalie on that account for years, enough for you
to find out her password if you didn’t already know it. You forwarded that forged email to the press as well.”

Arliss cocked her head to one side, then smiled at him. “Another absurd tale you’re weaving without any proof? I suppose your fantasy includes some kind of motive?”

Savich said, “The motive, Mrs. Abbott, yes, the motive was the difficult part. You knew Natalie hadn’t looked at another man since her husband’s death until she met and fell in love with George McCallum. You knew all her hopes for the future were centered on him, as George’s were centered on her. You saw that Natalie was looking forward to that future, saw that she was happy again, and how you hated that. When the photo from the NSA came to your desk, you realized William Charles McCallum’s photo presented you with your chance to end it.

“The press was thrilled with the photo, of course, with being able to label the son of a peer of the realm, the man who was slated to marry the ambassador to the United Kingdom, as a terrorist. Naturally, Natalie told you the circumstances, told you she and George were handling it. You hoped it would break them apart, hoped even more that the mounting pressure from the scandal would force her to resign her post. To make sure you upped the ante, you arranged for that email you’d forged to George McCallum to be sent anonymously to the papers.

“The point of your email wasn’t to fool him. The first thing George did was call Natalie and find out it wasn’t from her. The point was to leak the email to the press, to have Natalie’s private life, real and imagined, dragged through the tabloids. Could she survive that?

“I imagine you were pleased with the serendipity of George McCallum’s car going over a cliff near Dover, Mrs. Abbott. The
autopsy was inconclusive, and his death was ruled accidental. He probably suffered some kind of cardiovascular event with all the stress he was under. Perhaps he lost consciousness. We will never know. But you didn’t want the scandal to end with McCallum’s death. No, you wanted it to go viral, and so you planted more rumors. Shortly after George’s funeral, it didn’t take the press long to happily announce that George McCallum had been driven to kill himself because Natalie had ended her engagement to him.

“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.”

D
ay 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.