“I’ve left him. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“You can do anything you want to do, Judith. Open a gallery.” Fayyad smiled. “Take all of his money and open a gallery.”
For the first time Judith smiled. “That’s a thought.” The smile faded. “I really wanted to come here and hate you.”
“I know.”
Abruptly, she stood up and walked to the door. “I have to go.”
“Do you have to? We could sit and—”
“I have to go.” She knocked on the door, and it opened.
“Judith?” Fayyad called. “Do me one favor?”
She turned. “What?”
“Be happy.”
To the bittersweet surprise of Charlie Latham, the Vorsalov/Smith/Fayyad affair ended with a whimper.
Senator Herb Smith had announced his resignation on the senate floor the previous day. Rumor was he planned to move far from Washington and write his memoirs. In his secret heart, Latham hoped the son of a bitch died a lonely old man, which, of course was quite possible now that Judith had left him. In his secret heart, Charlie hoped she would move far from Washington, live another fifty years, and die a happy, happy woman.
Despite himself, Charlie had developed a soft spot for Ibrahim Fayyad. He hated what the man had done to not only Judith and the dozens of women before her, but also the countless people he’d helped kill, still… There was no mistaking the change that had come over the man. Too bad it came so late.
In the dozens of hours Latham had spent debriefing him, never once did the Jordanian complain or resist or defend his life. He owned it all. Latham had seen his share of criminals grow a jailhouse conscience, but in Fayyad it seemed genuine. Even so, his fate was sealed. Ibrahim Fayyad would spend the rest of his life in prison.
The biggest surprise was Vorsalov.
The Russian was cooperating but wasn’t making it easy. Charlie decided it wasn’t so much a case of evasion as it was one of character. Down to his marrow, Vorsalov was a cold-warrior, and it wasn’t in his nature to give up the game.
Understanding that still didn’t make what Latham had to do any easier.
He paused at the door to the interview room, took a deep breath, and walked inside. “Morning, Yuri.”
Wearing his orange jumpsuit, Vorsalov sat at the table playing chess against himself. “Good morning, Charlie.”
“Who’s winning?” Jesus, Charlie, you’re supposed to hate this guy. What was that saying? “Revenge is a dish best eaten cold.”
“No one, really, but I suppose that’s the idea.” Vorsalov slid the board aside and gestured to the chair. Latham sat down. “So, Charlie, more questions?”
“No, not today. I have some news.”
“Judging by your face, it is not good.”
“It isn’t. Yuri, I was called over to Langley yesterday.”
“Ah, the CIA. How is Mr. Mason and company—”
“Yuri, they made a deal.”
Vorsalov stopped. “What kind of deal?”
“I didn’t know about it. It happened when—”
“What is it, Charlie?”
“The FIS helped us track you in Cyprus, but there was a price tag. After five years, they get you.”
Vorsalov stared at Latham for ten seconds. Finally, he nodded. “You knew nothing about it?”
“No. If I had, I wouldn’t have—”
“Yes. I believe you, Charlie.” Vorsalov chuckled. “We may be on opposite sides, but I always suspected you were a… What’s the phrase? A stand-up guy.” Vorsalov forced a smile and waved his hand in dismissal. “Oh, well. Politics. Who knows, much can happen in five years.”
“Yuri, you won’t get away.”
“I know that.”
“Once they get you back—”
“Charlie, I know exactly what they will do to me. You forget, I’ve done the same to others.”
“Yeah, I guess you have. Still, I’m… I’m sorry, Yuri.” Charlie stood and pushed in his chair. “I’ll check in from time to time. Is there anything I can get you?”
Vorsalov thought for a moment, then smiled and slid the chessboard back into the center of the table. “Do you play?”
Epilogue
Hiromasa Takagi poured himself a snifter of brandy and walked to the window. Far below he could see the lights of the fishing boats on the bay. He stood for a while longer, finished his drink, then set it on the sideboard and walked into his adjoining office. A single desk lamp lit the blotter on his desk, leaving the corners of the room in shadow. He walked to the chair and sat down.
“Good evening, Mr. Takagi,” a voice called from the darkness.
Takagi’s head snapped up. “Who is that? Yamora?”
Briggs Tanner stepped forward into the light.
Takagi squinted. “You!” His hand shot toward the phone.
Tanner’s hand came up holding a pistol. “Before you do that, I was hoping we could talk. After I’m done, if you still want to call your men, I won’t stop you.”
“I have no intention of talking to you.” Takagi reached.
“Believe it or not,” Tanner said, “I didn’t come here to shoot you, but if you touch that phone, I will, I promise you.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“I think we do. But it’s your choice: Either we talk or I shoot you.” Tanner raised the pistol and centered it on Takagi’s forehead. “You have five seconds.”
“You’re insane.”
“Four seconds.”
“You’ve made a mistake coming here.”
“Three.”
“Stop counting, damn it!”
“Two.”
“All right! Fine! First, though: Where are my men?”
“I came right through the front door and didn’t see a soul.”
“You’re lying.”
“After we’re done talking, you can check for yourself.”
“I’ll do that.” Takagi leaned back in his chair. “You have my attention.”
Tanner walked to the corner, clicked on the floor lamp, and settled into the leather wing chair. “For the past month I’ve been thinking about why you started all this. I don’t know how you found Stonefish, and to be honest, I don’t really care. What’s been nagging is the why of it all. It couldn’t have been money.”
“Why not?” Takagi said. “What better reason?”
“For a lot of people there is no better reason, but for you… Somehow I didn’t think so. Excluding money, that left one thing: power. For you, that’s the real currency. Power to control, power to manipulate. Everything in life flows from power. How am I doing?”
“Go on.”
“I have a friend who loves research. He’s happiest when he’s hunting for an answer that doesn’t want to be found. It’s an odd quirk of his, but I love him for it. In fact, he’s the one that led me to Parece Kito.”
“I wondered how you found it.”
“That was him. He’s been working on my unanswered questions about you.”
“Which are?”
“One, what did you hope to get out of all this? And two, what could possibly be worth helping some madmen incinerate hundreds of thousands of people in a nuclear fireball?”
“You cannot prove that I had anything—”
“I’m not interested in proof. I know you did it, and that’s enough for me.”
Takagi waved his hand in dismissal. “How nice for you.”
“Your greatest ambition is to rule Japan,” Tanner said. “Not as prime minister, of course… that would come with too many built-in drawbacks. No, you wanted to be pulling the strings from behind the scenes.