Senate Cloakroom Cabal (29 page)

“You paint a vivid picture. You and H.T., were you . . . good together?”

“I think so; I didn't have anything to compare it with. What relationships I'd had by then were strictly platonic. H.T. and I loved each other. The early years in Washington were like a long honeymoon; a blur of parties, receptions, and dinners, including several at the White House.

“I looked forward to having children, but that didn't happen. After three years, we agreed to be tested. He had the problem. I brought up adoption, but he balked. I believe that took some of the air out of our loving relationship.”

“Hey,” Jerry yelled, “Tyler and I are famished.”

“We're coming.” We had been dawdling.

Ro put her hand on my arm. “One other thing. I didn't want to spend my life being only the wife of a senator. H.T. agreed. That's when I went back home to work on my PhD. I also worked for him out of his office in town. I represented him at functions and traveled back here when he asked me to. We still loved each other; we were just not as loving.”

We enjoyed our day with Ro and arrived back at the marina by dusk.

We watched the setting sun's orange reflections on the Potomac fractured by the 14th Street Bridge before pulling into the channel. Ro changed and left soon after we docked, profuse in her thanks. We invited her back. After putting Tyler down, Jerry and I sat aft listening to music from the yacht club and the happy sounds from boat parties.

My pulse quickened when he reached his hand over and took mine.

69

M
ax came aboard Sunday afternoon—and not empty-handed. His Sunday morning fishing trip with his cousin had produced a good catch, which he would later fry on our electric grill. First, though, he imparted some interesting information.

“Yesterday, Stroble's alleged killer, faced with all our evidence against him, decided not to lawyer-up in exchange for a favorable plea. He gave up the man who had hired him—an employee of Mr. Horowitz's law firm. The FBI is now tapping that person of interest. On the drug front, US Marshals and DEA agents visited the Rogers New Jersey facility on Saturday and are still searching and interviewing today.”

I hoped no one had let slip where the manufacturing might be taking place. Max said he hadn't heard this was the case. We had a delightful day topped off with a delicious fish entrée.

My Monday morning was full of warm memories of our weekend. Max's visit had made our weekend extra special. As I walked from the station to the paper, my cell phone rang. It was Max. “Good morning,” I answered.

“And to you. I'm pressed for time. Nothing incriminating was found in New Jersey.”

“Okay if I tell the managing editor?”

“Keep it in-house.” We signed off.

“Good morning, Laura,” Barton said, as he came from his office into the reception area to greet me. “Please come in. Coffee?”

“Yes, black.”

“Please have a seat.” He put in my request and sat behind his desk, across from me.

He began, “We are witnessing a migration. American cancer patients are flying to Frankfurt in droves. We have that from Dulles and Frankfurt airports. We had people check all the airlines servicing Frankfurt . . . flights were rapidly filling up, weeks out.”

“According to Travis, the hospital was full.”

“Yes. He called me first thing. By the way, he's a real find. It seems the Germans were expecting this and had hundreds of additional beds available in nearby hotels and inns. They also had extra doctors and a second hospital on call.”

Barton's secretary brought in our coffee.

“That's quite a logistical undertaking,” I said. “Something I'm sure Harley Rogers would be very good at planning. Governor McAllister told me Harley was a superb strategist in World War II—planning ahead and knowing his enemy,”

“Yes. See what you can find out from the Rogers people. We have people here looking to interview cancer hospitals, NIH, for their reactions. Travis will continue to work on the Germans.”

“My speculation is . . . do you have a few minutes, sir? I'd like to give you a chronology.”

He nodded.

I began with my New Jersey trip, ending with my knowledge of an offshore manufacturing operation. I gave it to him in great detail. What coffee I had in my cup when I finished was cold.

“That is a fascinating story, Laura, and one I hope you are prepared to write. It also proves Senator Dalton's position on Tutoxtamen. I believe you made a similar statement as to its efficacy awhile back. This means that Senators Kelly and Pembroke and others are engaged in a little skullduggery along with Mr. Stanley Horowitz and the pharmaceutical lobby.”

I was thrilled.

He continued, “The death of Stroble is another indication that—”

“It's more than that now, sir,” I blurted out, startling him. I needed to control that. “Sorry. Captain Walsh has told me off the record that Stroble's alleged hit man is in custody and talking.”

“Background?” he asked, perturbed knowing he couldn't print that little morsel.

“Only because they are not arresting the hit man's PI . . . eh, ‘person of interest' . . . at this time. The FBI wants to observe him, in hopes he'll lead them to higher-ups. With Senator Dalton and Senator Szymanski tied together in their cosponsored bill, and US Marshals finding nothing in New Jersey, I believe that—”

“Yes,” he interrupted, amused. “I can imagine that some people will be a bit stirred up.”

The rest of Monday dragged, so I went home mid-afternoon to work on my journal. It would be the source from which I put together the story that Barton expected from me. After I spent a little playtime with Tyler, Anna took him for his afternoon carriage ride, and I began my writing task.

70

F
or whatever reason, I got a good night's sleep and arose with Jerry and Tyler at 6:00, but I didn't interfere with the boys and their routine. I read the
Star
instead, especially Claire Rowley's article on the Senate's bewilderment, a story I thought was pretty much matter-of-fact. I was obvious to me that Claire had reviewed the C-SPAN coverage from the beginning, especially the part she had not seen live. Her piece was reportorial, without editorial comments. She also mentioned that Senator Kelly had called a caucus meeting for today.

I wondered what Kelly's strategy would be? My cell phone rang. The display showed it was someone from the paper. “Good morning,” I said cheerfully.

“It's Riley. You were right about Puerto Rico. Two gringos had been sniffing around the clinic asking questions.”

“And went away empty-handed, I hope.”

“Our stringer, Rias, talked to a nurse he'd met during his earlier visit. She said the gringos thought the clinic was a laboratory, a processing plant.”

“Not very clandestine of them was it. Well, now the pharmas and Kelly will know that Puerto Rico is not a destination point.”

“Claire says the Hill is in a fury over the German story, and there's double to triple the normal media up there. We've found the same attention at Dulles and Reagan National interviewing passengers taking or trying to get Frankfurt flights.”

“This will be bigger than the migration to Lourdes,” I quipped. “It's a travesty that Americans have to fly to another country to get an American-invented drug.”

“Barton says you two agree it's Rogers's drug.”

“It fits.”

“Yeah. What's your schedule today?”

“I'll be on Capitol Hill. I've got to go. I'll call you later.”

“Who's calling so early?” Jerry asked, coming back down with a clean Tyler.

“Riley. It could have waited. The pharmas checked out Puerto Rico.”

My cell rang again. I thought about not answering but saw it was Max.

“To what do I owe this honor,” I said brightly.

“I've just come out of a task force meeting with Chief Douglass, FBI Director Cole, Special Agent Davis, the attorney general, and the president's chief of staff.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Six thirty was the only time the principals could agree on. The FBI's surveillance on the PI picked up a conversation he had with Stanley Horowitz.”

“Bingo, as a friend of mine likes to say.” Bingo was one of Max's favorite words when revealing a key clue or person.

“You flatter me, but the bad news is that Horowitz appears to have known about Rogers's offshore plans for some time. He and the PI talked in a sort of shorthand, nothing direct, but there is something brewing. The PI then flew to Miami. Have you heard that reservation requests to fly to Frankfurt are off the charts? And I doubt it's for the sausage.”

”Yeah and I can imagine the chaos at the airports and with online booking agents.”

“The FBI has added Horowitz and Kelly to their surveillance list. You have a good day.”

“You too.” I clicked off.

Wow. What a surge of activity. Today would be busier than I expected. I went upstairs to get ready for work. An hour and a half later, I walked into Michael's office. Ro was out.

I started right off with my news. “The pharmas visited Rogers's clinic in Puerto Rico. Captain Walsh attended a sunrise meeting with some heavy hitters, including the president's chief of staff. The FBI's phone tap picked up a conversation between the PI and Stanley Horowitz. He already knew Rogers had set up a processing plant.”

“Then why check out the Puerto Rican clinic?”

“Maybe they are like us: knowing, but not knowing where.”

Michael didn't react as I thought he might. He seemed preoccupied. “What's up?”

He said, “A hysterical Nancy Morris came in here yesterday afternoon. I was stunned by her demeanor, plus she'd never come to my office before. She was uncontrollable. When I asked if I could get her anything, she replied ‘a fifth of bourbon might help.' There was no humor in her voice. Then she moaned ‘this is the major jilt of my life.'”

According to Michael, Nancy had been in Senator Pembroke's office working on a plan to get the pharmas to allow greater discounts to counteract the Szymanski/Dalton bill when Kelly, his AA Charlie, and his leadership chief of staff barged into the room.

Michael quoted Nancy as saying,
“I'd never seen Tom like that. He
berated Senator Pembroke for the party being in this mess. He was so out of
control.”
Michael added, “Then she really broke down.”

“Her God has feet of clay. He showed his ugly side.”

Michael nodded. “She said Kelly chased all the staff out, but even in the next room, they could hear him ranting about the cancer drug in Germany and accusing Senator Pembroke of not doing anything about it. She didn't know how long that went on, but when things quieted down, and she couldn't hear their voices anymore, she came over here.

“I told staff Nan wasn't feeling well, and that I'd take her home when she was ready. She fell asleep on the senator's sofa for three hours. I had to alert Jeff, the B&G guy who still drives me, of a deviation in my schedule. When Nan was more composed, I took Jeff and her to dinner. All she wanted was booze, but I insisted she had to eat. It was a real ordeal, and she mumbled stuff neither Jeff nor I needed to know.”

“Did she know Mort?”

“Only by reputation. It was after 11:00 when we got her home. We stretched her out on her bed, I turned off her alarm, and we left. When I got home, I found a long message from Tyrell. The gal he had met that first night with Mort? Well, he and she have been dating two, three times a week since. That evening she told Tyrell that Mort's date, Tina, had been asked to spy on Mort, get close to him.

“Tyrell's squeeze doesn't work for the pharmas like Tina, who has been plagued with guilt, worried she might have contributed to Mort's death. Tyrell's girl came clean because he and she were getting it on. I'm sure I'll get more details when I catch up to him later today.”

The Hill underground at work
, I thought. “Sounds like more cracks in the pharmas' armor. There are people who will want to talk to both of those women.”

He began to object.

“This is a murder investigation, Michael. Nothing will happen to either, but Tina especially knows things that are valuable for Captain Walsh to know.”

After a pause, he said, “Okay, I don't like it, but I'll do it.”

“It'll be very much like what you and Tyrell experienced. I suggest you get to Tyrell quickly and have him tell his girlfriend she must absolutely keep this to herself.”

“Okay, I'll—”

His office door opened, and Ro walked in.

“Laura, I was hoping I'd find you here. I just left Gavin. He's seeing Fred tonight in the Cloakroom at 6:00.”

I looked at Michael. “I think you better add Nancy to your list when you call FBI SAC Reed Davis. He will want to hear about last night's blow up.”

Ro showed surprise. “What blow up?”

“Between Kelly and Pembroke,” Michael said. He told Ro what he had told me.

“Why the FBI, Laura?”

“It's about corruption and conspiracy. The murder is separate, and it's MPD's. Plus the German pharmaceutical's operation may be a deal-breaker between the pharmas and the senators. They need to look at everything . . .nothing is insignificant.”

I switched gears and asked her gently, “Have you been able to reach your father?”

“No. He hasn't returned my last three messages.”

I wrote down Reed's and Max's telephone numbers. “Here are the numbers you'll need, Michael.” I looked at Ro. “Tyrell; has been dating the girl he picked up at The Goose when he was with Mort. Well, she told Tyrell that Mort's date, Tina, had been assigned to get close to Mort. We need to know who told her to do that.”

“Absolutely,” Ro said, looking at Michael.

A little sheepishly, he said, “I'll go see Tyrell; it'll be easier that way.”