Wall of Night Read Free Page A

against the wall, that you were pulling up her skirt.”
    â€œThat’s not true.”
    â€œWhat part?”
    â€œAll of it, John. For God’s sake—”
    â€œIt never happened?”
    â€œNo.” Martin spread his hands. “She’s confused, John. Perhaps she had ideas about us. …”
    Oh good Christ, Haverland thought. “So it never happened and Peggy Manahan, a solid, faithful White House employee for eighteen years is either lying, or she’s caught in the throes of an obsessive fantasy about you. Is that what you’re telling me?”
    Martin smoothed out his tie. “I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating.”
    â€œWe’re well beyond insinuation, Phil. I believe her. I believe every word of it. But the truth is, this is my fault. I knew what and who you were when I brought you aboard. I buried it, called a lesser evil to do a larger good. But that’s crap. I put you where you are because I needed you to win. I put you in the running for the presidency.”
    â€œThat’s right! That’s exactly right!” Martin shot back. “And whether you believe it or not, I’ve earned it. Now it’s my turn. You’ve had your shot. Now I get mine!”
    Haverland stared hard at Martin, gauging him, waiting.
    Martin cleared his throat. “So where does this leave us? What are you going to do with this?”
    â€œNothing. I’ve spoken with Peggy. She’s retiring. It was her choice. She wants to get as far away from you as possible and forget it ever happened.”
    â€œGood. Good for her. Best we all put this behind us.”
    â€œNot quite, Phil.” Haverland reached into his drawer and pulled out a spiral-bound address book. He plopped it onto the desk. “This is forty year’s worth of names: CEOs, senators, ambassadors, PACs, jurists, lobbyists, newspaper editors, investment bankers. … Starting this afternoon, I’m calling in every marker I own. By this time next week, the tap on your campaign is going to start drying up.”
    â€œYou can’t do that!”
    â€œWatch me.”
    â€œCome on, John. Can’t we work this out—”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWithout that money I haven’t got a chance in hell of winning!”
    â€œExactly. You don’t deserve the office. More to the point, America deserves better than you.”
    Martin’s face turned purple. “You bastard! This is not fair! What gives you the right—”
    Haverland stood up, turned his back on Martin, and walked to the window. “We’re done, Phil. Get out of my office. If there’s any justice, you’ll never see it again.”
    Bhubaneswar, India
    Sunil Dhar enjoyed his work. Kashmiri by birth, Dhar was more sympathetic to his Indian customers, but beyond that he was an equal-opportunity agent. Such was the beauty of his vocation. As long as the customer paid, their nationality and cause were of no concern to him.
    This would be his second meeting with the client, and he’d chosen the caf é for its many exits and open facade. If there were watchers, he would see them. Not that he expected problems. His client seemed genuine in his intention, if not in his presentation.
    The client certainly looked Japanese, but Orientals all looked alike to him. Even so, Dhar had dealt with JRA terrorists before, and there was something wrong with this one. But what? The man wasn’t with any police or intelligence agency; his network of contacts had told him that much.
    If he’s not JRA, who is he ?There were two likely scenarios: a rival group looking to insulate themselves should the transaction fail; or a go-between trying to establish cover for a larger operation.
    Wheels within wheels, Dhar thought. His line of work was much more satisfying—not to mention simple. Most of the time, that is. This job would require some delicacy. Sarin was the king of nerve agents,