Shadows and Lies (13 page)

"Julie is the President's mistress."

Kandari's eyes were alight for an instant and Powers glimpsed the passion that had been there when he was a much younger man. Passion harnessed by time and controlled but never entirely tamed. "Ah, yes. Clearly put. You say she is injured and missing. You say her friend and neighbor is murdered. I tell you her parents are murdered. What is it you want of me? An old man who desires nothing but peace." He spread his tiny hands in supplication.

"Did you treat Julie? Do you know where she is?"

He answered in measured words. "Men in suits like yours will come for me later. Today I think. Perhaps my wife and I will have plastic bags pulled over our heads."

Powers didn't reply.

“You say nothing. You were supposed to reassure me. Isn't that how it is done?"

"I can't give you assurance. I don't know who is doing this or what their motives are. Someone tried to kill me last night. Believe me when I say I only want to see to Julie's safety. No one I know wishes her dead."

The doctor glanced up. "Perhaps you really believe that. Julie has been about dangerous business. It is probably too late for her now. I fear it is already too late for me. I knew it Saturday night. But how could I turn away my own niece? If we have not our family, then we have nothing." Dr. Kandari stood up slowly. "Go with God, Mr. Carpenter. I'm returning home to see my wife and make my peace while there is still time." His smile was wise and more than a little cynical. "Perhaps I'll even hide. I suggest you give up this fool's errand and do likewise."

TEN

George Washington University, 12:04 p.m
.
             

As Powers watched Dr. Kandari's retreating figure he pressed pound nine on the cellular telephone. Alta answered at once. "I need to see your boss immediately," he said.

"That's not possible. She's about to leave town."

"I don't care. If she wants me to remain on this she and I have to talk. Now."

There was a long silence. "I'll check and call you back."

Powers remained on the bench and watched the students crossing the campus, dressed for rain. He idly wondered if this was still summer session or if the new semester had begun. On 21st Street, just off campus was the Washingtonian Coffee Shop, its windows heavy with fog. He slid into a back booth and ordered coffee from a student waitress who didn’t look old enough for college. Before she finished the list of selections he ordered the house blend. Simple choices were more complicated every day.

The place was filling up quickly with students and younger instructors. For a time, women had been putting some meat back on their bones but that had already passed. Many of the women were wearing the Mrs. John F. Kennedy, Jr., hair style and a number were trimmed to an unappetizing anorexic gauntness.

Shanken strolled through the entrance where he paused momentarily glancing casually around the noisy room. He raised his heavy features into a smile then took a seat with Powers, still smelling of peppermint but more strongly of cigarettes. He was wearing his rumpled pastel green raincoat and the fedora that appeared to have been slept on. "You don't look so bad," he said amiably. "I think you're gonna get a shiner though before the day is done. Close call, huh?" The waitress glanced over. "I'll take some of that joe, hon. And pie. Apple if you got it." He smiled at Powers again. "Cute kid."

"I thought I shook you."

"What? You think we're amateurs at this? You're pretty good, I'll give you that, but you're rusty. Anyway, you've got no reason to get rid of us so give it a rest. My ticker’s weak and I gotta pace myself, you know? Like the gag goes, we're here to help. I thought last night proved that." He grinned but his dark eyes never changed.

"Where's your goon?"

"Goon. That's a good one. Ghoul, I'd say. He's around. You oughta try spending the day with that weirdo. He gives me the willies, you know?" He was eyeing two students in tight cotton tops who had just taken seats across the aisle from them and were removing rain attire.

"Was it you in New York City last night? Or did you send someone?"

Shanken turned back towards Powers still smiling. "What's'at supposed to mean?"

He eyed Shanken levelly then said, "What are you after?"

"Just an update."

"You've been watching me. You know who I've talked to and very likely already know what I've learned."

"Maybe, then maybe not. Nothing's perfect. We need your cooperation for this to work, buddy. Last night the man made it clear enough what's at stake here. You're doing this for your country, just like the rest of us." Shanken slid his hat off and wiped his hand across the balding expanse. His thick shaggy sides were long overdue for a trim. He glanced about the room and grimaced. "I really hate this city, you know? Look at these beanpole assholes. If average Americans actually understood what Washington was all about they'd nuke it." He sniffed his nose. "I think I've got a cold coming on so don't get queer on me." Their coffee arrived. Shanken beamed at the waitress. “Thanks, hon."

"All we have is blueberry. Is that okay?"

"Blueberry's nice. Heat that, won't you?" Shanken stared after the young woman. "Cute kid. Nice ass. So shoot. You've got a lot to do and not much time."

"What's Karp's interest in this? He was pretty vague last night."

Shanken sighed. "He'd be upset to hear you say that. Selling his angle is what the guy thinks he's good at. He already told you, didn't he? You don't want me repeating it here do huh?"

"I don't know Washington politics or White House politics for that matter, so I can only assume he has motives he didn't mention. It would be nice to hear about those."

Shanken's pleasant expression never lapsed. "Everybody's got at least some personal motives, Danny. That doesn't make 'em bad. It's the way of the world. That’s why you’re in this, am I right? Come on. What's up? Maybe we can help out."

"Tell me about Yvette."

Shanken's thick eyebrows arched. "The frog stewardess? All I know is what I heard on the radio twenty minutes ago. Someone iced her last night. Was she a looker?"

"Yeah. She was a looker. How about the Marei's?"

"Who they?"

"Julie's parents."

Shanken shook his head. "Never heard of 'em."

"They're in the notepad you gave me."

"Were they? I was just passing that along. What are you playing at here? This is no time for mind fuckin'."

Powers drained his coffee cup and gestured for a refill. "People are dying, Chesty. Saturday night someone attacked Julie with a knife and probably killed her. Last night someone tied up Yvette Dorat, Julie's neighbor and friend, then slipped a plastic bag over her head. Also, last night, someone suffocated Julie's parents. My guess is with plastic bags. That's an awfully high death count for something I've been working on not much over 12 hours. We've gone from blackmail to multiple murder in a heartbeat."

Shanken's pie arrived. "Thanks, hon." He mopped his face with a soiled handkerchief as he waited for the waitress to leave, then glanced quickly about them before speaking quietly. "Don't use a word like that in a public place. What do you think this is? The keystone cops?"

Power's telephone chirped. "Yes? Where? All right." He put the cellular away. "So what's going on, Chesty?"

Shanken stared after the telephone call was finished, then down at his pie and cut into it with his fork. "I don't know. You tell me. You're the one getting phone calls." He met Powers' eye with a sincere gaze. "Honest to God, I don't know. All right? I'm suppose'ta keep an eye on you. Make sure nothing bad happens since you're so tight with you-know-who. It's a good thing too as it turns out, you gotta admit that. Instead, you waste your valuable time and our not-so-valuable time trying to give us the slip. Call me retard, but I was hoping for a little cooperation since our interests coincide and there's so much at stake here. Is that too much to expect?" He lowered his voice to conspirator level. "It coulda been the Limey’s, even the Frogs. They’re pretty pissed these days. But if you gotta know, my guess is Arabs. That's who did the number on you last night in case you haven't figured it out. But hell, maybe its Israelis, using Arabs. You never know with that bunch, especially with Saddam making noise. Those are the most bloody crews I can think of with an interest in this. Hell, anyone can hire a pair of ragheads, get me? That fella who went for a ride in a blue van last night was clean. We got no idea who he was. Shit, that's hot!" He dropped the fork and nursed his lips.

"You're telling me Israel would murder all these people? What the hell are you talking about?"

Shanken leaned forward and whispered. "Use your head. This is about
power
. Some Arabs wanta war in the Gulf, others don't. Either side would slice and dice whoever it took to get what they're after. Those Kuwaitis got themselves a good deal and don’t want anyone trying to take the action. Those Heebs aren't about to stand for Saddam gaining the kinda power he'll have if he pulls off this oil grab. And if he's got nukes, he's just liable to. They wanna be certain we push the son of a bitch out of Saudi and Kuwait then take him out of the picture for good this time. Finish the job, yuh know what I mean? If a few bystanders get snuffed to see it gets done, and not incidentally save the future of Israel, do you honestly think they'd hesitate? And that's just for openers. Come on. You look all grown up and everything. You trying to tell me they play this game with King's X rules out in St. Louie? That ain't the city I remember from my misspent youth. Don't give me that cop look. I was just passin’ through and I used another handle. Hell, you were in diapers in Pohdunkville."

His voice dropped even lower. "We're talkin' about controlling the foreign policy of this country, the most powerful on Earth, for the next four years. I could start a list of who'd do this and still be writing next week, and I'm not that well informed, get me? We can be talking oil companies here, weapons dealers, hell you name 'em and I can tell you why they'd ice someone to get those tapes. Most would slit the throats of their dear mamas if that would get 'em one step closer."

"Why kill Dorat? The Mareis? It makes no sense."

Shanken rolled his eyes. "What is this? Kinygarden? They're afraid of what they might know. Even if they knew nothing, it's safer to whack 'em. It usually is. In the
real
world it’s better to whack just about everybody than it is to take chances."

Shanken stopped. He moved a bit of blueberry around on his plate, leaned over and blew then suddenly looked up. "Say, are you holding out on me? It also makes sense if the Marei woman's alive and they were trying to learn where she is. Maybe I've been making too much of this. Maybe after somebody cut her up and left her for dead she went off and hunkered down, taking the tapes with her. I think you better tell me what you know. It would be a shame if someone added you to the growing list of the missing and we never had a heart-to-heart."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Me? Hell, no. I'm here to
help
you, Danny boy. Haven't you figured that one out yet?"

"Tell me something, Chesty. Are you the kind who saves the plastic bags from the grocery store?" Shanken’s smile faded for the first time and his eyes turned mean. Powers smiled lightly. "I'll bet you are." He pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and dropped it on the table as he rose. "You're the last person on this planet I'd tell anything. Assuming I knew something." Then he walked off.

"Hey! Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Shanken wheeled around in his place and called after Powers, diners craning their necks to stare. "Ain't we friends no more!"

Cleveland Park, 12:44 p.m.

Powers was surprised that he agreed with Shanken to a certain degree. Washington certainly wasn't what he'd expected and he didn't like what little he'd seen of it very much. It was small, much smaller, than he'd imagined, not that he held its size against it. There was marble everywhere. On the facades of the buildings, in statues. He'd never seen so much statuary, most of it inconveniently located and for obscure causes and personages.

It was the people who depressed him. There was a sameness about them in their attire that was disheartening. Those not overcome with boredom moved with a sense of petty self-importance. The industry here was government infighting and it permeated every aspect of the society from what he could see.

Powers flagged a taxi and reminded himself that in a few minutes he'd be seeing Becky again. He had questions and wondered what her answers were going to be. People change, he knew. Some for the better, but too often for the worse.

Becky Gordon had been his first sexual experience. He had carried the image of her naked body for years even before that, and the actual experience had been overwhelming as a result. Following homecoming night he'd assumed that at last they'd start dating, but it hadn't turned out that way. He'd tried approaching her at school with no success. She was always surrounded by a group of admirers. And talking to her about a date at the garage was out of the question. But finally he'd spotted her alone in the high school parking lot a week later and summoned the nerve to ask if she'd like to go out that Saturday.