“Yeah, I thought I had them, too. That is, before Foster turned them all against me. Which is what she’s probably doing to you right now. And you know how persuasive the lady can be. I wonder if she’s met with the president yet to update him on your treachery?”
“What treachery?” Quantrell snapped.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? The memory cards from the surveillance cameras were delivered to her this morning along with a detailed report of what they represent. You see, I had a secret asset still at Cutter’s who came through for me in the clutch. Just call it a nice present from me. It’ll be more than enough for an indictment. Your business will be disqualified from performing any more government work, and since that’s all you do, you have no more business. But you won’t care. You’ll be in a federal cage where big, tough guys with time on their hands will want to get to know you very well.”
“But I can take that bitch Foster down. I can– I know things–”
“She’s too smart for that, Mason. He said, she said. And she’s a Cabinet secretary, and your reputation proceeds you. And it’s not a good one. Why do you think she chose you to work with, you moron?”
The blood slowly drained from Quantrell’s face as this all sank in. He licked his lips and said slowly, “You spoke about an out.”
“Yeah, I did. Want to hear it?”
Quantrell coughed, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat. He croaked, “Yes, I do.”
“Good. Sit tight and I’ll get back to you.”
Quantrell screamed into the phone, but Bunting had already clicked off.
CHAPTER 75
IT WAS A FUND-RAISING GALA at Lincoln Center. The stars were out from both coasts. Peter Bunting’s wife was on the Lincoln board and had helped spearhead the event. She was not here tonight because of her recent illness, but she had found someone who could use her comp ticket.
Kelly Paul, tall and regal, and wearing a long gown with her hair tucked up except for a few dangling strands, walked along one of the corridors of the Center, a glass of Bordeaux in hand. People stared and commented on her, though they didn’t know who she was.
Paul was here for only one reason. And she had finally spotted it.
Or, more accurately, spotted her.
Ellen Foster did not look very comfortable. It was not just the problem of Edgar Roy weighing on her mind. It was a matter of being at an event where she was far from the center of attention. Her public fame was limited, though she had more public power than anyone in the building. But that didn’t seem to matter when a gaggle of guests nearly ran over you in their quest to corner the latest Hollywood or singing sensation.
Foster walked along with a glass of champagne in hand, stealthily looking for anyone who might recognize her so she could do a bit of preening. Failing to find anyone interested in her, Foster decided to visit the ladies’ room.
Inside the ladies’ room, while she was reapplying her lipstick, Foster heard a voice.
“Hello, Ellen.”
She froze but only for an instant. She glanced in the mirror, saw no one.
“I locked the door. We won’t be disturbed.”
Foster slowly turned. “I’m armed.”
“No, you’re not.”
Kelly Paul emerged from the shadows and faced her. Even in her three-inch heels Foster was dwarfed by the other woman.
“Kelly Paul?” Foster shook her head. “You have unbelievable balls to be doing this.”
“Doing what? Taking a pee? Don’t they allow that at Lincoln Center anymore?”
Foster rested her rump on the granite sink and folded her arms across her chest.
“I could have you arrested right now.”
“For what?”
“Any number of things.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“I really don’t have time for this.”
“Peter Bunting?” said Paul.
“What about him?”
“You set him up nicely.”
“On the contrary, he dug his own grave.”
Paul held up her hands. “Check me for a wire if you want. You can be frank.”
Foster looked at her like she had lost her mind. “I need to get back to the party. And just in case you’re looking to get away, my men have all the exits locked down. I’ll look forward to seeing how many charges are filed against you.”
Foster started to walk out.
“It’s interesting about Mason Quantrell, isn’t it?”
Foster paused, her hand on the doorknob.
“Who?” she said.
“The Mercury Group? Mason Quantrell. Your partner in crime?”
“It’s appalling to see how far you’ve fallen. You used to be somewhat special. This performance is about as amateur and pathetic as I’ve ever seen.”
“Bunting is a very smart man. He outfoxed Quantrell,” said Paul. “He connected the dots and found the proof. Quantrell knows he’s going down for it. But he’s also looking to work a deal with the FBI. Care to guess what they’ll want in return?”
Foster just stood there, staring at her.
“Is this still an amateur production, Ellen?”
“I’m listening, if only for my own amusement.” However, the woman’s confidence was clearly diminished.
“The story won’t take long. Quantrell is about to rat you out.”
Foster managed a smile. “About what?”
Paul ticked them off on her left hand. “The six bodies in the barn. A dead lawyer and his secretary. A dead director of Cutter’s. A dead Maine state trooper. And most of all a dead FBI agent. The boys at Hoover really get pissed when you take out one of their own. And you didn’t have to, Ellen. So what if he found out about the E-Program? Did you really need to do that? He had three kids.”
“This is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want my brother back, safe and sound. And I need you to do that.”
For the first time uncertainty crept into Foster’s eyes. “Your brother was broken out of Cutter’s Rock by people impersonating FBI agents. By you, in other words.”
“That was Quantrell’s people and you know it.”
“But–”
“But what? Did he feed you some bullshit that the plan didn’t go off? That he lost my brother?” Paul drew closer to the other woman. “I want Eddie back, Ellen. And one way or another I will get him back.” She paused and a look of incredulity came over her features as she studied the vacuous look on the other woman’s face. “Did Quantrell play you, too? Did he tell you that he would snatch Roy and then kill him? Blame Bunting? Hell, Bunting’s ass is already fried. The E-Program is over. You didn’t need Eddie for that. That’s just piling it on. My brother could just rot in that prison; it would make no difference to you. You already won. Didn’t you get that?”
She drew closer still, so she was looking right down at Foster. “Eddie is innocent. I couldn’t care less about the E-Program, but I’ll be damned if my brother is going to lose his life so you can score a useless victory over Peter Bunting. By now you must know the guy tricked you with his wife attempting suicide. He’s already gone somewhere that doesn’t extradite here.”
“I don’t know where your brother is, that’s the truth,” Foster said slowly.
Paul took a step back. “Then my coming to see you was a waste of time.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Foster answered in a hushed voice.
Paul said, “You’re the head of DHS, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to think this shit through, Ellen. And aligning yourself with Quantrell? Where did that brilliant idea come from? You knew that Bunting kicked his ass with the E-Program. So you had to know he wasn’t in the same league with Bunting brainwise. Did you think Bunting would just roll over and give up? He could eat Quantrell’s lunch any day of the week. You really picked your ally very poorly. Who the hell advised you to do that?”