Day of Reckoning

Parker's mouth went dry. 'Blake Johnson?'

'That's right. You know him?'

'We've worked together. Except he isn't FBI anymore. He works for the President.'

Jesus, is this a hot one, Captain?'

'I'd say as hot as they come. You zip your mouth tight,Sergeant.'

'If you say so.'

'Jesus,' he said again. He looked at her. 'You wouldn't happen to have a bottle of anything here, would you, Sergeant?'

She hesitated, then took a half-bottle of Irish whiskey from a drawer in her desk. 'For medicinal purposes,' she said.

And sometimes we need it. Sergeant, you're working for me now. I'll take care of things with your lieutenant. The first thing I want you to do is call the White House and ask for a woman named Alice Quarmby. Got that? That's Johnson's assistant. I need to talk to her.'

He turned to the window, stared out, and took swig another from the bottle. Abruzzi called to him, he turned and the phone.

Alice? Harry Parker. Is Blake there?'

'He's with the President, Harry.'

'Damn.'

There was a pause. 'Is it important?' So he told her.

In the Oval Office, President Jake Cazalet sat at his desk, Blake Johnson on the other side, as they reviewed the latest intelligence reports on the Irish peace process. The President's favourite Secret Service man, Clancy Smith, a tall, black Gulf veteran, stood by the door. The phone rang and Cazalet picked it up.

'Alice Quarmby, Mr President.'

'Hello, Alice, you want Blake?'

'No, Mr President, I need you.'

He straightened, aware from the tone of her voice that something was very badly wrong.

'Tell me, Alice.'

She did, and a minute later he replaced the phone and turned to Blake, genuine pain on his face, for this was a man he liked more than most, a man who had helped save his beloved daughter's life, who had saved the President himself from assassination.

Blake, sitting there in shirtsleeves, papers in front of him, said, 'What's the problem, Mr President? What did Alice say?'

Cazalet stood up and walked to the window, watching the rain drifting across Capitol Hill. He summoned up all his strength and turned.

'Blake, you're a true friend and one of the finest men I've known, and I'm going to hurt you now in the most terrible,way. At least, thank God, it's me.'

Blake looked puzzled. 'Mr President?'

And Cazalet gave him the dreadful news.

When he was done, he ordered, 'Whisky, Clancy, a large one.'

Clancy was at the sideboard at once and back within seconds with a crystal glass half-filled with bourbon. He handed it to Blake, who stared at it, frowning, then swallowed it whole. He put the glass down on the desk.

'I'm sorry, Mr President. This is quite a shock. Although my wife and I were divorced, we've always stayed close, and now I… May I phone Alice back?'

'Of course. Use the anteroom for privacy, then we'll talk.'

'Thank you.' Clancy opened the door and Blake went out.

'Clancy,' Cazalet said, 'I need a cigarette.'

Clancy found a pack, shook one out, and gave it to him. 'Mr President.'

Cazalet inhaled deeply. 'These got me through Vietnam, Clancy. Blake, too, I suspect. What about you? In the Gulf?'

'Long days of boredom, broken by moments of sheer terror? Yes sir, a cigarette came in handy now and then.'

Cazalet nodded. 'Old soldiers, the three of us.' He sighed. 'He doesn't deserve this, Clancy. If there's anything we can do for him, I'd appreciate it.'

'My privilege, Mr President.'

Twenty minutes later Blake returned, his face grey, eyes burning.

'Is there anything I can do to help, Blake?'

'No, Mr President, except with your permission I need to get to New York now.'

Cazalet turned to Clancy Smith. 'Make the call and get the Gulfstream ready to take Blake to New York immediately.'

'You got it, Mr President,' and Clancy went out fast. Cazalet turned to Blake. 'My friend, do you have any kind of idea what happened?'

'No, Mr President.' Blake pulled on his jacket.'But I intend to find out. And with Harry Parker helping me, that's just what I'll do.' He held out his hand. 'Many thanks, Mr President, for your understanding.'

He turned and went out.

3

In Parker's office at One Police Plaza, Blake listened to the whole story. When the police captain was finished, Blake nodded.

'I'd like to hear what Romano said from his own mouth, then I'd like to see where it happened.'

'Be my guest.' Parker picked up the telephone. 'Have my car at the front entrance in five minutes.'

Shortly thereafter, still in the rain, that bad March weather, they stood on the edge of the pier with umbrellas and looked down into the water covered with scum and flotsam.

'She was there by the steps,' Parker told him. 'The night watchman saw her. I happened to be walking along.'

'And you pulled her in.'

'I couldn't leave her.'

Blake nodded. 'Let's go and see Romano.' He turned and walked away.

At the morgue, Romano was in the chief medical examiner's office, drinking minestrone soup from a plastic cup and eating French bread. Parker made the introductions.

Romano said, 'I'm really sorry.'

'Just tell me what you told Harry.'

Romano did.

'So she was murdered?'

'In my opinion, and for what it's worth, yes.'

'But why?' Parker demanded. 'And what would a nice middle-class lady with an apartment in the Village be doing in Brooklyn under these circumstances?' They sat silent for a moment. 'You never had any children, did you, Blake?'

'No.' Blake shrugged. 'It wasn't possible. She was sterile, so she concentrated on her career, and I concentrated on mine. We just kind of drifted apart. But though we got divorced, we never lost touch. We were always concerned friends.' He turned to Romano. 'I'd like to see the body.'

'No, you wouldn't.'

'Yes, I damn well would.' At that moment Blake looked every inch the Vietnam veteran.

Parker put a hand on Romano's shoulder. 'George, I'd say we should indulge the man.'

'Okay, let me phone down.'

She lay on one of the tables under the hard white light.

There were enormous stitched scars where Romano had opened her up, the same scar around the skull.

Blake felt incredibly detached. This creature had been the love of his life, his wife, his support in many bad times, and now…

He said, 'I was never all that religious, but human beings are pretty remarkable. Einstein, Fleming, Shakespeare, Dickens. Is this what it ends up as? Where's Kate? This isn't her.'

'I can't give you an answer,' Romano told him. 'The essence, the life force — it just goes. That's all I can say.'

Blake nodded slowly. 'I'll tell you one thing. She deserved better, and someone should pay for this.' His smile was the most terrible thing Parker had ever seen when he said, And I'm going to see that they do.'

Back at Parker's office, there was a message for him to phone Helen Abruzzi.

'What's new?' Parker asked.

'Well, we checked out Katherine Johnson's house, and it's been burgled.'

'Damn,' Parker said. 'Okay, we'll be right there.' He turned to Blake and explained. Blake said, 'Let's take a look.' Helen Abruzzi was already there ahead of them when they arrived.

'There's no sign of forced entry, but the study upstairs has been ransacked. It's hard to tell what's been taken.' She led the way, opened the study door, and entered. Thes cene of devastation was evident, videotapes scattered all over the place.

Parker said, 'Anything in the machinery?'

'Not a thing. No disks, no tapes, no copies, nothing in the computer.'