“Calm down, Mason. Just calm down. I can’t see you. I just know you. I know you very well. You’re predictable with a capital P.”
“What the hell game are you playing, Bunting?” Quantrell yelled into the phone.
“No game, Mason. But it’s obvious you have no interest in what I have to say. Now when Foster’s men come to arrest you, what are you going to do?”
Quantrell’s gut clenched so hard this time, he nearly doubled over. “Foster?”
“Did you really think you were going to walk away on equal terms with her? She’s way too smart for that.”
Quantrell slumped in his chair. “What are you getting at?”
“It was your guys who did all the heavy lifting, am I right? Planted the six bodies in Edgar’s barn. Killed Murdock, Dukes—”
“Now wait just a minute.”
“She played you, Mason. And now it’s unraveling, so she’s activated her survival plan. She’s going to wipe the floor with you. Poor, trusting Cabinet secretary and sleazy defense contractor. Don’t feel bad. It’s not that original. It’s the same trap you laid for me. At least I was nimble enough to get the hell out of town. You, on the other hand, are sitting in your big, fancy office with a bull’s-eye on your head.”
“You… there is no proof. I can… I have friends. Allies.”
“Yeah, I thought I had them, too. That is, before Foster turned them all against me. Which is what she’s probably doing to you right now. And you know how persuasive the lady can be. I wonder if she’s met with the president yet to update him on your treachery?”
“What treachery?” Quantrell snapped.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? The memory cards from the surveillance cameras were delivered to her this morning along with a detailed report of what they represent. You see, I had a secret asset still at Cutter’s who came through for me in the clutch. Just call it a nice present from me. It’ll be more than enough for an indictment. Your business will be disqualified from performing any more government work, and since that’s all you do, you have no more business. But you won’t care. You’ll be in a federal cage where big, tough guys with time on their hands will want to get to know you very well.”
“But I can take that bitch Foster down. I can—I know things—”
“She’s too smart for that, Mason. He said, she said. And she’s a Cabinet secretary, and your reputation proceeds you. And it’s not a good one. Why do you think she chose you to work with, you moron?”
The blood slowly drained from Quantrell’s face as this all sank in. He licked his lips and said slowly, “You spoke about an out.”
“Yeah, I did. Want to hear it?”
Quantrell coughed, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat. He croaked, “Yes, I do.”
“Good. Sit tight and I’ll get back to you.”
Quantrell screamed into the phone, but Bunting had already clicked off.
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
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
