Mistress

Chapter 63

“You’ll walk away from all your criminal problems,” says Carney. “All criminal investigations are dropped. Diana’s death is ruled a suicide. Jonathan Liu’s death is a suicide. Any responsibility for that dead police detective? Wiped clean. This little blackmail stunt you’ve pulled on me-all is forgiven, Ben.” He wags a finger at me. “Now, you’re not going to find a better deal than that.”

I try to maintain a poker face, an air of skepticism. But I can’t deny that I’ve been praying for something like this. A chance to get my life back. To move on. And for Anne Brennan, and Diana’s parents, to do the same. I have more than myself to consider.

“And the people trying to kill me?” I ask.

He stares at me for a long time. I swear I see a trace of a smile, but maybe it’s just an optical illusion. If you stare at a wall long enough, it appears to move.

“As I said, Ben, the US government has nothing to do with that.”

“Of course not.”

“But maybe we know who does. And maybe we can work something out so that problem goes away, too.”

I can’t keep up this blank expression much longer. I’m not wired for it, as Carney is. So I start walking again, moving toward the Washington Monument along the south side of the reflecting pool. Sweat is dripping into my eyes and running along my cheek. Carney knows that I’m on unfamiliar ground here. I’m in way, way over my head.

“And for all this-for immunity from prosecution and from machine-gun ambushes-I have to do what?” I ask.

“Nothing, Ben. Literally nothing. No more questions. No more investigating. Just let the whole thing go. It’s the right thing to do in terms of national security, and you save your life in the process. Everyone wins.”

Somehow I don’t feel like a winner right now. I’m unsure how to proceed. Every instinct I possess tells me to lap up this deal like a dog, to say yes immediately. This is what Anne wants. This is what George Hotchkiss wants. This is-

This is what I want.

“You’re going to say yes,” Carney says.

“I am?”

“Yes, you are, Ben. For several reasons. For one, you know if you print that bogus story about me, you’ll ruin the reputation of your newspaper. And I’ll sue, and I’ll win. Because we both know that Diana and I never had an affair.

“And even if you keep up this investigation of yours-and let’s pretend you dig up something worth printing-all you’ll accomplish is making this country less safe by disclosing tactical advantages we’ve managed to put in place against our enemies. And that’s assuming you manage to stay out of jail and you’re not under prosecution for two murders. And all that assumes that you even manage to stay alive, which, from what I understand, is a very tenuous proposition.”

We walk for a moment, and I try to decipher everything this guy is telling me. It sure would be nice to be recording this conversation so I could play it later.

Which is why I’m glad I’m recording this conversation so I can play it later.

“Is Diana alive?” I ask.

Carney smiles. “That’s not our deal. Our deal is you don’t ask questions.”

“Who killed Jonathan Liu?”

“Why, you did, Ben.”

“What is Operation Delano?”

He sniffs a laugh. “Enough, Ben. I need your answer. Right here, right now. Do you spend the few remaining days you have left tilting at windmills, or do you get your life back as it was?”

I break away from him to think for a moment. I let my eyes wander over the west end of the National Mall. The Lincoln Memorial was the location of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. Protests against the wars in Vietnam and Iraq, marches for women’s and workers’ rights-all of them have taken place on the Mall. Every memorial here pays tribute to courageous souls who battled evil forces, some visible and some invisible, to make this country and this world a better place.

I’m no hero. I never have been. I’ve lived a safe and cautious life. Why should I change course now? Especially when Carney’s right-the only thing that pressing forward will do for me is land me in prison or get me killed.

“I need an answer right now,” says the deputy director. “Come on, Ben. You know there’s only one answer.”

“You can wait twenty-four hours,” I say. “Don’t call me. I’ll call you.”