‘I do, and I will not resile from my conviction that your husband supplied military aid to those who wish our country and our allies harm.’
‘No, Congressman!’ she said, just about controlling herself. ‘What I meant was that you must have your reasons for persecuting a man who’s trying to bring relief to those who’ve suffered in his country since way before Halabja. That’s politics today, right? The culture wars that say destroying someone on the other side is a win, irrespective of what good they do.’
‘Maybe we can park that issue for the moment.’ He gestured to the staffer with a fork loaded with egg. ‘Matthew here came across an interesting story, which I’m going to share with you in the hope and expectation that you may be able to shed light on it.’ Speight popped the egg into his mouth. He liked to take his time. He ate slow and he spoke slow. ‘He heard that Mr Steen was carrying evidence in his briefcase that your husband planned to use in the hearing this week, or in a month’s time, when he was scheduled to appear in front of the Foreign Affairs Committee again. This evidence was to be used in extremis. In other words, it was a strategy of last resort because it was only half cooked. It was inchoate.’
She began shaking her head several seconds before he landed with such pleasure on the word ‘inchoate’.
‘Men come here from the FBI, the CIA, business partners of my husband – and they spout theories at me and it means nothing. Mr Steen died and my husband is very sick. Those are the facts. I have no knowledge of what was in Mr Steen’s briefcase, still less do I care.’
Speight kept chewing methodically. ‘What if the target was the briefcase?’ he asked eventually. ‘And by that I mean the knowledge held in that briefcase and in the brains of your husband and his lawyer?’
‘Look in the briefcase,’ she said, exasperated.
With a nod from his boss, Matthew, a tall black man with horn-rimmed spectacles and collar-pin shirt, said, ‘It was destroyed because of the high degree of contamination. The film from the hearing at one point shows Mr Steen putting those papers in the case. It had to be incinerated, along with all his clothing.’
‘So we shall never know what was inside,’ she said.
‘Not necessarily,’ said Speight. He sucked his cheek to dislodge something from his teeth then wiped his mouth. ‘Maybe you have some idea of what was in those papers.’
‘I do not,’ she said. ‘Maybe you should ask Steen’s law firm, Lanyado Christie?’
‘We already did,’ said Matthew. ‘But they had no knowledge of any papers other than the regular documents concerning your husband’s appearance this week, which the committee also possessed.’
She looked at Tulliver. ‘Jim?’
‘Nothing like that came my way,’ he replied.
Her eyes returned to Speight. ‘How do you know there was anything of this nature in the case if the law firm and Denis’s chief aide were unaware of it?’
Speight nodded at the logic of this. ‘We were all very shocked by the events of two days ago. It was a moment when representatives and their staffs come together. Anyone could have been killed. A nerve agent doesn’t distinguish between Democrats and Republicans, and that’s made my colleagues recognise how much we have in common. We’re in Congress for the American people. We sometimes forget that.’
‘You’re saying you had help from the Democrats. Who?’
Speight shook his head.
‘What was the nature of the question he or she was going to ask?’ asked Anastasia.
‘Why, the evidence of a conspiracy in the heart of the establishment related to your husband’s previous troubles: nothing less! This is standard DC scuttlebutt, but people believe it.’
‘Okay, so now you have your story, what do you want with me?’
‘There’s one other thing. I want us to appear together in front of the news cameras.’ Anastasia looked at Tulliver, who scratched his nose and pursed his lips.
‘That’s for your benefit,’ she said, ‘because it certainly wouldn’t be for mine.’
‘I never have any need of publicity, but I want certain individuals to see us together.’
‘Who?’
‘People. I want them to know that we’ve been talking,’ said Speight.
She thought for a few seconds. ‘Okay, I agree. But can I ask you a favour in return? I need to get to the airport because I’m going to the West Coast on business. Can your driver take me? It would save time.’
‘Yes, of course, when he’s dropped me at the Rayburn. That’ll be fine.’
They arranged to meet in the lobby fifteen minutes later. She returned to her room to complete her packing. Tulliver joined her.
‘What do you think – friend or foe?’ she asked.
He beckoned her into the corridor. ‘Foe,’ he replied when she was through the door. ‘Most definitely foe.’
‘Denis says you should never go into an important meeting without a pistol in your back pocket. Even though you aren’t going to use it, you know that you can, and that makes all the difference to you and your opponent.’
‘Actually, it’s a hand grenade. That’s the way he usually tells it.’
‘So he had his hand grenade in Steen’s briefcase – who do you think is most concerned about the hand grenade?’
‘Warren Speight.’
‘Exactly! Should I appear with him, or is he playing me?’
‘He’s playing you, but you should go along with it. You’ve already got a ride to the airport out of him.’ Tulliver’s eyes danced. ‘That was smart of you, Anastasia. The FBI will think you’re going to Congress. Have you got your ticket?’
She nodded. ‘I hate to ask you, Jim, but could you get my bag into the Congressman’s car? I don’t want the media reporting that I’m deserting Denis.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘By the way, those emails have been sent. I arranged a meeting tomorrow between you and the West Coast staff, which I’ll cancel by phone later.’
Before leaving she went to see Denis. His bed had been elevated and she could see much more of him. His colour was
