Night Fall

I turned on my beeper. Many people have my beeper number, including informants, suspects, witnesses, colleagues, and my apartment house staff, just to name about a hundred. But there was no beep.

This silence was either meaningless or it was portentous. In my experience, silence usually meant nothing, except for the times when it was ominous. Enough Zen for one day.

I considered taking a chance and calling Kate’s cell phone, but I knew, firsthand, that too many men on the run had been tripped up by trying to contact a woman. I shut off the phone and beeper.

I looked at my watch. It was almost 4P.M., and people were starting to straggle in from the beach.

I began the trek back to my vehicle, thinking about my visit to the Bayview Hotel. I was sure I had done everything I needed to do there, but there’s always that nagging doubt that something was missed, some question wasn’t asked, some clue was overlooked.

In fact, I knew Ihad missed something-something had popped in and out of my head before it registered.

Time gaps are always important because things happen during those times. Four-thirty check-in, 7P.M. to the beach. That’s two and a half hours for Don Juan and his lady in the room, or out of the room.

If they were in the room, they may have had sex, but they didn’t record it because the video camera was in their vehicle. Then they went to the beach with the hotel blanket, presumably to have sex again, and to record it. What a guy. Then they intended to go back to their room with their X-rated video and have sex yet again with the video playing. Superman.

Didn’t make sense. Therefore, they may not have had sex when they first checked in at 4:30. So, what did they do in those two and a half hours? They talked. They napped. They watched TV or they read. Or they left the room and did something that might have left a paper trail.

But that was five years ago. Not only was the trail cold, but Ted Nash and Liam Griffith had obviously obliterated the footprints.

This one was going to be a challenge.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I got back to my apartment a little after 7P.M., and Kate was in the kitchen wearing a tiny teddy while cooking my favorite meal of steak, real French fries, and garlic bread. My clothes, which I’d left on the living room floor, were put away, and there was a Budweiser waiting for me in an ice bucket.

None of that is true, of course, except my arrival time and Kate being home. She was sitting in an armchair reading theTimes.

I said, “Hello.”

She looked up at me and said, “Hello.”

I threw my blazer on the couch, indicating I was staying, and asked, “So, how was your day?”

“Fine.” She went back to her newspaper.

I said, “I went to the doctor today. I have less than a month to live.”

“Starting when?”

“About noon.”

“I’ll calendar it.”

“Okay, let me say this-I won’t apologize for my behavior last night-”

“You’d better.”

“Okay, I apologize. But you have to apologize for lying to me.”

“I did. About three times.”

“I accept your apology. I understand why you did that. I also think this was a positive experience for us, a growing and affirming event, and a liberating episode in our relationship.”

“You’re a total jerk.”

“What’s your point?”

She said, “Let’s just drop it.”

“Okay. But I want you to know that I love you-that’s why I get upset about you and Ted Nash.”

“John, I think you hate Ted Nash more than you love me.”

“That’s not true. Anyway, what’s new in the world of terrorism?”

“Not much. What did you do today?”

“I took a ride out east.”

She didn’t reply.

I said, “I wasn’t followed, and I left my cell phone and beeper off so I couldn’t be tracked, so that’s why you couldn’t reach me.”

“I wasn’t trying to reach you. But I have a message for you.”

“From who?”

“From Captain Stein. He wants to see you at nineA.M. tomorrow in his office.”

“Did he say why?”

“No.”

Captain Stein, as I mentioned, is the senior NYPD guy on the Federal Anti-Terrorist Task Force. His command responsibility includes all the active-duty cops, while Jack Koenig, the FBI guy who runs the whole show, is responsible for the FBI agents, such as Kate. As a contract agent, I’m in a gray area, and sometimes I report to Stein, and sometimes to Koenig, and sometimes to both. I’m happiest when I don’t have to see either. I asked Kate, “Why is Stein sending me a message through my wife?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he tried to call you.”

“He could e-mail me, fax me at home, or leave a message on my answering machine or my cell phone. Plus, I have a beeper.”

“Well, maybe because your cell phone and beeper were turned off is why he wants to see you. As you may recall, it’s against department regulations to have both devices turned off at the same time.”

“I do recall that. But I don’t think that’s why he wants to see me.”

“Neither do I.”

“Do you think he’s on to me?”

“Theyare on tous,” Kate replied. “Jack wants to see me tomorrow at nineA.M.”

I didn’t want to overreact to this news, but it was not a coincidence that Kate and I were being called into the two bosses’ offices at the same time. I asked, “What’s for di

“Bread and water. Get used to it.”

“I’ll take you out to di

“I’m too upset to eat.”

“Maybe we should call out for di

“Neither.”

“What’s in the refrigerator?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“I opened a bottle of white wine.”

“Good.” I went into the kitchen. In the refrigerator was a half-finished bottle of white wine and some soda water. I poured Kate a glass of wine and made myself a Scotch and soda.

Truly, the game was up. Less than forty-eight hours since the memorial service. I’d have to remember to congratulate Liam Griffith and shake his hand when I kicked him in the balls.

I went back into the living room, handed Kate her wine, and we clinked glasses. I said, “To us. We gave it a good shot.”

She sipped her wine thoughtfully and said, “We need to get our stories straight.”

“That’s easy. Tell the truth.” I sat in my La-Z-Boy and swiveled toward her. I said, “Screwing up is not a crime, but perjury is a felony. Federal prisons are full of people who lied about something that wasn’t even a crime, or was at most a misdemeanor. Remember the CIA motto-The truth shall set you free.”

“I could lose my job.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was told five years ago not to do anything on this case, except what I was asked to do.”

“So, you forgot. Hey, Griffith told me forty-eight hours ago not to nose around this case.”

“He’s not your boss.”

“Good point. Look, the most that’s going to happen tomorrow is a chewing out, maybe an official reprimand, and a direct order to cease and desist. They don’t want to make a big deal of this because that draws attention to it. I know how these things work. Just don’t get caught in a lie, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded. “You’re right… but it won’t do my career any good.”

“Well, that will be offset by the fact that you’re married to me.”

“This is not a joke. This is important to me. My father was FBI, I worked hard to-”

“Hold on. What happened to truth, justice, and patriotism? When you took that first step over the line, the slope got steep and slippery real fast. What did you think was going to happen?”

She finished her wine and said, “Sorry. Sorry I got you into this.”

“These last two days were fun. Look at me. Nothing bad is going to happen tomorrow. Do you know why? Becausethey have something to hide.They are worried. And that’s why you should not worry and not hide anything.”