Hell's Corner

CHAPTER 63

^“Why Friedman?” asked Chapman as they walked along H Street.

“She was at the park. As I said, simple process of elimination.”

“But she explained what she was doing here. She voluntarily came forward, in fact.”

“I would too, if I were guilty of something. Her face was caught on the video feed. If she didn’t come forward it would look very suspicious. This way she defused that suspicion and appeared to be an upright, law-abiding citizen.”

“An adulterous upright citizen. But she has an office right over there.” Chapman pointed to the line of town houses on Jackson Place. “It would make perfect sense for her to be in the park.”

“Please put your hand down just in case she’s watching. They’ve allowed the business owners back in now.”

Chapman dropped her hand and looked chagrined at her indiscreet action. “Sorry.”

“She said she’s a lobbyist, and maybe she is. But maybe she’s more than that.”

“So she could have been Turkekul’s unscheduled meeting?”

Stone said, “If he had such a meeting planned, she was the only one in the park he would be meeting with.”

“But if so, he might have told Sir James and the others about it.”

“Then perhaps they’re covering for her too.”

“Because she’s part of his mission, whatever that is?”

Stone nodded.

“So her being in the park was because of Turkekul being there?”

“If my theory is right, yes,” replied Stone.

“But did they meet?”

“They left at the same time. I saw no interaction between them while they were in the park. She was on her phone but he wasn’t.”

“And maybe they were going to meet but—”

“But then the guns and the bomb went off.”

“What do you think they were meeting about?”

“I have no idea. But I doubt it was about finding bin Laden.”

“So what do we do with this fresh angle?”

“If we try to go after her and she is being covered by higher-ups we might get our butts handed to us.”

“So we can’t touch her?”

“Officially, no. But there might be another way.”

“How?”

Stone took out his phone and made a call. “Annabelle? I have another assignment for you. If you’re willing.”

The next day Annabelle and Caleb walked into the office of Marisa Friedman. They had made an appointment and Friedman was waiting for them. Annabelle had changed her appearance greatly. The hair was short and blonde, her face made up, her clothes European, her accent an authentic mix of German and Dutch. Caleb was dressed all in black and had his thinning hair slicked back. He had on square-cut spectacles and a bit of stubble on his face. He carried an unlit cigarette and explained it by telling Friedman it was the only thing that worked for him in trying to quit.

She lifted up her sleeve and showed him the Nicorette patch on her arm. “I’m kind of in the same boat.”

Friedman led them back to her large office on the top floor with windows overlooking Lafayette Park. The space was decorated in a manner that suggested Friedman had traveled widely, had good taste, and the money to exercise those heightened sensibilities.

“We’re just now back in our space,” she said.

“Why is that?” asked Annabelle.

“There was a bombing in the park. And gunshots.”

“My God!” exclaimed Caleb.

“You didn’t hear?” said Friedman with a surprised look.

“As you might have deduced from my accent, I am not from this country,” said Annabelle.

“And I’m an expatriate myself,” added Caleb jauntily.

“But the Americans like their bombs and guns,” said Annabelle. “At least that is what we are told.” She shrugged. “So it is normal, then?”

“No, it’s not normal, thank God.” Friedman leaned forward. “I have to say that your phone call has intrigued me. You want to bring green jobs from Europe here? Can I ask why since green has already taken off where you are?”

Annabelle made a face. “It’s the bureaucracy. The, what you call, red tape. It is killing us. Our business cuts across many different geographic boundaries. The EU makes all businesses jump through hoops that are often impossible and usually totally ridiculous. Our business model is good. Our technology sound. But if we cannot implement it?” She shrugged again.

Caleb added, “Now, I have some experience over here though I’ve been gone a long time. My friends tell me that America is the place to be. That you want green jobs. That the red tape is not so bad. That things can be done quickly and that there are also government incentives to do so.”

“That’s true. What country did you settle in?” she asked suddenly.

“France.”

She asked a long question in French. Caleb answered her promptly, throwing in a joke at the end that made her laugh.

Annabelle said something in German and Caleb answered her in German.

“I’m afraid my German is very poor,” said Friedman.

“Excuse us,” said Annabelle. “That was very rude.”

“You Europeans speak so many languages. Makes us Americans feel quite inept.”

“Your country is big, ours are small,” said Annabelle. “Language skills are a necessity. But your French is very, um, nice.”

“How can I help you?”

“We are in need of a presence, a footprint I think you call it, here in Washington. We want to build a factory producing our goods in the United States. We also have IP patent and licensing issues that need political addressing.” Annabelle paused. “Is that the proper term? Political addressing?”

“Lobbying, I think,” commented Caleb. “And friends in high places.”

“I can certainly handle these matters for you,” said Friedman. “I have relations with many government people, and energy is one of my specialties. Can I ask how it was you came to me?”

Caleb looked embarrassed. “I’m very much afraid it had nothing to do with your reputation, stellar though I’m sure it is.”

Annabelle added, “We based it on proximity.” She pointed out the window.

Friedman followed her motion. “The White House?” She smiled. “Interesting due diligence. But I guess that’s one reason I settled on this space.”

“But then we also checked the records for your client list. It was very impressive and very much in our area of necessity,” remarked Annabelle.

Caleb leaned forward and tapped his cigarette on the carved wood of Friedman’s desk. “But it would be helpful if you could tell us a bit of your background. We want to get this right. Our business model shows a clear path to a multibillion euro, or dollar, rather, revenue point. We must start on a firm foundation. It is imperative.”

“Of course.” Friedman gave them an account of her background, education and work experience and items with which she could help them.

As the meeting ended she said, “For the sort of work you require I would imagine a ten-thousand-dollar-a-month fee. Understand this is applied to work done under our normal fee structure. For work outside that scope, more monies will be due. It’s all explained in our standard fee agreement.

“Of course,” said Annabelle. “That seems logical.”

“Where in Germany are you from?”

“Berlin. But I grew up elsewhere.”

“Oh, really? Where was that?”

“Many places,” said Annabelle abruptly.

Caleb added, “Quite cosmopolitan. And secretive she is.”

“Nothing wrong with that in today’s world where everyone is watching everyone else,” Friedman said in a light tone.

“We’ll be in touch,” said Annabelle. “Auf Wiedersehen.”

“Ciao,” added Caleb.