“A cancer cluster.”
“Yes. She had been blown off by everyone—her local politicians, the EPA, and finally her state senators.”
“I guess she got the last word in.”
“That she did. But I bet the blood on the floor was easier to clean than whatever was making people sick in her neighborhood.”
Nguyen approached the end of the hall and stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Can you make it to the third floor, old man?”
“’Old man’ my ass. Keep moving,” Wallace responded. If he were by himself, he damn sure would have taken the elevator.
Wallace breathed hard with every step. The name of every state in the union was carved in the walls of the stairway, a star at the beginning and ending of each name. Nguyen ran his fingers across them as he ascended.
“Taxation without representation,” Nguyen said.
“What?”
“Taxation without representation. One of the tenets this country went to war over. Two hundred and some years later and we are still being taxed without representation here in D.C.”
“I guess,” Wallace answered.
“You don’t agree?”
“I don’t really care. Having a senator doesn’t mean the citizens of D.C. would pay less taxes. Hell, we would probably end up paying more taxes. I figure if you are that hell-bent on having a senator, move to Maryland or Virginia. No senator has ever saved a state, and they sure as hell wouldn’t save the District.”
The detectives stopped at the brown door with the Massachusetts state seal plastered on the lower third panel. A glass window with black writing further indicated they had arrived at their destination.
“After you,” Nguyen said, right hand extended.
Dana and the senator’s bowtie-wearing page were standing at the main desk, banging on the side of the computer monitor when the detectives came in.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, how may I help you?” Dana asked, looking up with her hands still on the desk, offering a nice cleavage shot to the D.C. detectives.
Wallace forced himself to stay focused on her blue eyes. “We are detectives with the D.C. Police, First District. We would like to have a word with the senator.”
“And what is this in reference to?” Doug the Page said, before Dana could interject her mindlessness.
“We think the senator may have information that could help with an ongoing investigation.”
“Are you saying the senator has been the victim of a crime?”
“No, we are not saying that.”
“Is the senator a suspect in an ongoing investigation? If he is, I assure you he will want legal representation present before answering any questions,” the sniveling page pontificated. After the AWARE fiasco, the page had endured a long lecture on how to protect the senator from unwanted guests. The page tried to sound tough, tried to flex his legalese. Detective Wallace was unfazed.
“It is nothing of that nature. It will only take a minute.”
The page looked at the detectives as if considering the career impact of the request. “I’ll see if the senator is available.”
“Thank you.” ***
The senator’s head pounded and he gave his temples a brief massage with his index fingers. The detectives came through the door and the senator sprang to life. “Please, please come in, detectives.” Handshakes and introductions followed, and the detectives accepted seats in matching high back chairs at the senator’s beckoning.
The detectives glanced around the room from their seats, and Senator Day let the spell from the magic of the room cast down on his visitors. The detectives were unaffected by the room, the senator, the aura of the building, and the view from the perch overlooking the Mall.
“Senator, if I may be so bold as to get straight down to business,” Wallace said.
“Please.”
“We understand you made a recent trip to Saipan with a man named Peter Winthrop.”
“Peter. Yes. We went in May. The second week in May, I believe.”
Wallace scribbled in his little spiral notebook. “How was the trip?”
“Great. Beautiful island. Wonderful people.”
“Did you have any trouble? Anything out of the ordinary happen?”
At the mere mention of trouble on the island, the senator started to sweat beneath his shirt. A combination of frayed nerves and his body’s desire to expel last evening’s alcohol. He thought about the girl with his child. Everything about the trip to the island was trouble. The senator tried to clear Wei Ling’s face from his mind and focus on the room, on the detectives.
“No, nothing out of the ordinary. It was a quick trip. In and out in thirty-six hours.” The senator fidgeted in his chair before continuing. “Well, actually we did have one small incident…”
“My chief-of-staff had a waterskiing mishap. He has been out of the office on medical leave. Started with ACL reconstructive surgery and has moved on to a staph infection. He has been helping out as best he can via phone, but this is Washington, and out of sight is out of mind. It has been crazy here without him.”
“How large is your staff?”
“Thirty in total. But ten of those are in the office in Boston. There are twelve here full-time in the Senate Building. The rest are in a two-room office off Independence Avenue, south of the Capitol. Space is limited here on The Hill. I have a speech writer and communications group on one side of the suite, and on the other side are a few legislative assistants so nothing falls through the cracks.”
Detective Wallace produced the photo of the six men in front of Chang Industries. “Do you recognize the man on the right?”
“I don’t remember his name, but he works for Lee Chang, the owner of the factory we visited. I called him the ‘Mountain of Shanghai’ because of his size.”
“The Mountain of Shanghai?” Nguyen repeated.
“What did he do for this guy…this Lee Chang?” Wallace asked.
“I guess he’s Lee Chang’s right-hand man. Drives, handles employee relations.”
“Does he speak English?” Nguyen asked.
“Yes, quite well. Speaks with a slight British accent on some words, which I thought was odd.”
“Do you know anything else about him?”
“No, why?”
“Any idea why he may be in D.C.?”
“None. Is he?”
“We have reason to believe he is in the city.”
“And what do you guys want with him?”
“We want to ask him a few questions.”
“Well, I don’t know what he is doing here. He could be here on business. Have you spoken with Peter Winthrop? He could probably tell you more about him.”
“We have contacted Mr. Winthrop and he was out of town. He is still on our list of people to speak with.”
“I can make a few calls and see if I can’t get his name for you.”
“That would be great, sir,” Nguyen answered.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of further help,” the senator said, rising from his chair hoping the detectives would take the hint.
“Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else about this individual, please give us a call.”
“I will,” Senator Day said. “Could I keep this picture, detective? Maybe it will jog my memory.”
“It’s all yours.”
