The Sixth Man

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?”

Foster was clearly now in full retreat mode. “I didn’t… I mean– We can get Bunting–”

Paul didn’t let her finish. “Good God, haven’t you been listening to me? Your people lost track of Bunting. They have no idea where he is. The man is gone!”

Foster said nothing to this. Her mouth was moving but no words came out.

“You backed Bunting into a corner, but the man always has an out. And Quantrell was stupid enough to deliver it to him. But Quantrell was also smart enough to obviously recognize something you apparently didn’t.”

“What are you–”

“Edgar Roy? A true E-Six? Only one on the planet? Do you know what he would be worth to this country’s enemies? Do you know how much Quantrell could sell him for?”

“He would never work for another country.”

“Who, my brother or Quantrell?”

“Either.”

“Did you know that when Quantrell was first starting out he was almost banned from government contracting work because he sold restricted weapons parts to China? He only got out of it through his fancy lawyers and blaming it on a subordinate. He’d sell his own mother to Kim Jong-Il if he thought he could make money. And while it’s true my brother would never knowingly work against his country, don’t you think the Russians or the North Koreans or the Syrians couldn’t find a way to persuade him? Their torture techniques are old-school but they’re still highly effective. Trust me, I know.”

“So you’re saying Quantrell–”

“Of course he double-crossed you. That’s how he’s wired. And now that Bunting kicked his ass and saved himself, Quantrell’s going to throw you under the bus to save his ass. It’s called dominos for adults. Which leaves my brother in total limbo right now. Which is not good. He’s a loose end, and they don’t have long life expectancies.”

Foster was now tottering a bit in her three-inch heels.

Paul took the woman’s hand off the doorknob and unlocked it. “But since it’s now quite apparent that you were too stupid to see any of this coming and you possess absolutely nothing that can help me, I’ll just have to look elsewhere for what I need. Besides, what can you do from a jail cell, anyway?”

She pointed at a corner of Foster’s mouth. “You went outside the lines a bit there. Might want to fix that for your mug shot.”

Paul closed the door behind her.