he tried to stop Sharp.”
“Brad,” Keith said, “the only evidence we have that Carson is culpable in Koshani’s death is your statement of what he said under torture, and a lot of what he said was exculpatory.”
“What about the treason charge? He told Koshani what he heard in the Senate Intelligence Committee.”
“Same problem,” Farrow said. “Carson will testify that he made everything up to stop being tortured. With Koshani and Crispin dead, the government doesn’t have anyone but you, and that’s not going to be enough.”
A fter his meeting with Keith Evans and Ned Farrow, Brad walked down to Ginny’s office, and they took a cab to the China Clipper, where they planned to celebrate Jake’s homecoming. The last time they had eaten Chinese, the newlyweds had just returned from their honeymoon and were looking forward to starting new jobs. But Brad’s and Ginny’s jobs had not turned out anywhere near the way they thought they would. They tried to put up a brave front when Jake and Dana sat down, but Dana was a pretty good detective, and it wasn’t difficult for her to deduce that her friends were playacting.
“Are you worried about the trial?” Dana asked Brad.
“There’s not going to be a trial.”
“Why not?” Jake asked.
“I met with the prosecutor this afternoon. They’ve cut a deal with Carson.”
“He’s going to prison, right?” Dana said.
“No. He’s going to resign, and they’re not going to indict.”
Dana was furious. “How is that possible?” she asked.
“The prosecutors decided that the case was too thin,” Brad said.
“He confessed that he and Sharp killed Koshani,” Dana shouted. “You heard him.”
“He confessed after his earlobe had been sliced off and cauterized with the flame from a lighter. Ned Farrow is convinced that no judge will let me testify to anything Carson said under those conditions.”
“So Carson walks?” Jake asked.
“He walks away from a prison sentence,” Ginny said, “but that video will be on the Internet forever. He’s giving up his Senate seat …”
“Which he would have lost anyway,” Dana said. “He’s so far back in the polls that it would have been a miracle if he got a single vote if he stayed in the race.”
“His wife is divorcing him,” Brad said.
“It’s still not enough,” Dana said.
“I agree,” Brad said, “but it’s the best that can happen under the circumstances.”
“Maybe Clarence Little will finish what he started,” Dana said.
Brad looked shocked. “Don’t say that, Dana. Carson is an awful person, but I wouldn’t wish Clarence on anyone.”
“Speaking of Mr. Little, what’s the latest on him?” Jake asked.
“There is no latest. Keith Evans told me that he’s disappeared without a trace.”
Ginny shivered. “Hopefully he’ll stay disappeared.”
“He did save Brad’s life,” Jake said.
Brad shook his head. “Never, ever think of Clarence as a good guy. I’m glad he saved me, and I’m very thankful that he told me that he would never come after Ginny or me, but he is pure evil.”
“What are you doing for a job?” Jake asked, to change the subject.
“I don’t know. Ginny was fully reinstated, so we’re okay moneywise for a while. I can probably get a decent job in D.C., but we’re thinking of leaving.”
Dana looked upset.
“I got my old job back working in the Fraud section,” Ginny said, “but I’m getting the cold shoulder from a lot of people. It’s unpleasant, and I’ve already been given some awful assignments, and I suspect it will get worse.”
“You can sue the bastards if they fuck with you like that,” Dana said.
“I could, but I don’t want to. I’ll stick it out at Justice until we decide what to do, but my days there are numbered.”
“We’d miss you guys,” Jake said.
“We’d miss you, too, but we’ve been through hell these past few years, and we’d love to lead a normal life. Ginny and I have talked about starting a family, and that’s not really practical here.”
“Where would you go?” Jake asked.
“We’re both members of the Oregon Bar. Oregon is beautiful, and the chances of anything really exciting happening to us there are pretty small.”
“Are you forgetting your adventures with Clarence Little and President Farrington?”
“That was an aberration, and we wouldn’t have to practice in Portland. Ginny and I could start a law firm in a small town or the suburbs.”
“With your luck, anywhere you settle will be the site of the biggest international criminal conspiracy in history,” Dana joked.
“Yeah,” Jake added. “The government will probably move the aliens from Area 51 there.”
Ginny smiled. “If we see any aliens, we’ll take pictures, sell them to Exposed, and retire.”
“How is your business going?” Brad asked Dana.
“Great. I thought Bobby Schatz would be pissed at me, but he’s referred some really good clients.”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their food. After everyone filled their plates, Jake talked about an assignment he’d just gotten photographing swimsuit models in Tahiti for a fashion magazine. Dana said she’d worked out her schedule so she could go with Jake as a bodyguard.
After dinner, the foursome went to the same jazz club they’d gone to the last time they’d eaten at the Chinese restaurant, to hear a quintet that had gotten a good review in the Post. No one mentioned jobs, serial killers, or crime for the rest of the evening, and Brad and Ginny were in a better mood by the time they returned to their apartment.
Brad had been downtown meeting with the prosecutor, then he’d picked up Ginny, and they had gone to the China Clipper. So neither of them had checked the mail. Brad sorted through it while Ginny looked over his shoulder. He shuffled through a bunch of bills and flyers before a postcard froze the blood in his veins.
“Oh no,” Ginny said.
Brad swallowed hard. The front of the postcard showed a beach in Acapulco. On the back Clarence Little had written, “Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.”
There were brownish-red stains on a corner of the card. Brad was certain that if they were analyzed, they would turn out to be human blood.
Epilogue
Rafik Nasrallah thought about his move for three minutes. Then he took the pawn. Imran Afridi tensed as if low-voltage electricity had passed through him. He hunched over the board, concentrating on the square where the pawn had been and Rafik’s knight now stood. Rafik knew that his friend was trying to convince himself that his position was not as bad as it seemed. After five minutes, he accepted reality and his shoulders sagged. Rafik knew that Imran would play on. All the last move had given him was an edge, but with accurate play, it would be enough.
Rafik took no joy in winning, as he might have before the FedEx debacle. Three months before, when Imran believed his plan could not fail, a rare victory over the chessboard was something Rafik would savor, but he had been beating his old friend regularly since Imran had returned from America.
Imran was depressed. He could not concentrate, he had no patience. That is why he misread positions and made foolish errors of judgment. Imran had told Rafik that he was being followed. He was certain that his phone was tapped. More than once when Rafik had come to visit, Imran had asked if he had noticed a black Audi outside the wall of his estate. Rafik had not seen a black Audi or any other suspicious vehicle. What he had seen was his friend’s steady mental decline.
