Chapter 9

I got up for another cup of coffee, this was taking a lot longer than I'd expected. She stopped talking while I did, but as soon as I settled back down she picked up her story.

"To start I found lists and more lists and more lists. All names, and with numbers and money. That part took me a little while, but I figured they weren't campaign contributors and after a while it clicked. He was selling the coke himself, to selected people! A few of the names I recognized—lobbyists, other Congressmen, like that. The numbers were how many grams and the money was what they paid for it, which was mostly a lot. A few were cut rate and a couple of freebies, favors I guess, but there were also dates and the best I could figure he was making close to a hundred K a month or more. And every dime of it was net, net, net."

"How do you figure?" I asked.

"Shit, Larry, haven't you been listening?" she demanded querulously. "He's running a base to snatch kids off the street and sending them someplace south of the border. He gets paid off in cocaine, which he peddles. I mean duh!"

"Oh," I said. "Sorry, listening to you too much and not thinking it through."

"Well, I did have more time with it," she admitted. "But anyhow, the kicker is when I get to his private payroll. He's got 'em fucking listed! Jose somebody, Alberto somebody, Theresa somebody—Jose, Berto and Terry, right?—and all at the same addresses. Multiples for all three, Laurel, Bowie and Arlington. D.C. 'burbs. He's getting job credits and tax writeoffs for the people he's got snatching the girls!"

I rolled my eyes, then considered that maybe she couldn't see. "Balls of a brass monkey," I said.

Another kid had been reported missing just a day or two earlier, this one in another suburb, Falls Church. "Well, Arlington seemed to be the most recent address, and it's next door to Falls Church, so I needed to do something," she told me. "They had a hotline, and I bought one of those el cheapo cell phones, the kind that come with prepaid minutes on them and dump it when you're done, and I called and gave them the address. Said I thought the kid was there, but she wouldn't be if they didn't move it right now. I didn't want to take chances on some friendly cop tipping off his favorite Senator and letting them scram."

"It worked?" I asked, pretty sure it had. She wouldn't be here telling me this if it hadn't.

"On the TV that night and all over the 'paper the next morning," she said proudly. "They found the kid and they nailed all three of the snatchers. But it stopped there; they lawyered right up. See, they were on Bobby's payroll but they really worked for the drug gang. Drug gangs get pretty rough with any of their people who talk it up, and can you imagine how much worse it'd be if one of them cost the gang a U.S. Senator who's in their pocket?"

"Yeah." I could see what she was saying. "So he's still in the clear."

"Not even," she said. "I wasn't letting it go. I called the hotline back and told them, hey, I'm the one who tipped you to get the kidnaped girl, I've got some more for you about the three assholes you busted with her and their boss, too. And I told the person on the phone to have somebody call me back if they wanted it. You can bet they did, pretty damn quick, and I gave them the story. About Bobby, I mean. I told them he was in it up to his ears, told them about the coke, told them I could prove it and they could, too, if they just raided the computer in his private office."

In an idealistic world that would have done it; nobody's supposed to be above the law, and they had reasonable cause even with an anonymous tip. But political D.C. doesn't work that way; for a Senator, and a popular one to boot, they needed more. She e-mailed them the key files, being careful to do that anonymously as well, but they still didn't act.

And meantime she heard back from Sen. Golden. "He was all apologetic about 'dozing off, ' that's what he called it, and wanted to see me again real soon. Like maybe that night. Well, I couldn't really say no, not without tipping him off; and I'd met Walter a couple of times and I didn't want him after me. So I agreed, and we set a time and place.

"But I wanted to end it, I wanted that really bad. And if I could do it and get him in some more shit at the same time, well, that would be a plus. So I set him up."

"You set him up?" I echoed.

"I tipped off the cops and both newspapers what would be going down, and where and when. Anonymous again, of course, but I said Sen. Golden would be seeing his whore and would probably have cocaine around. If somebody was bent then Bobby'd know, but in that case he just wouldn't be there and I'd know. And that's how the bust you read about happened, but it was what went on before that got me into witness protection."

"So tell me."

"He was there, all right, and being just the same as always, mostly. He had the booze out, and the coke, and was all smiles and grabass like usual when I walked in. But then he started to put on this big act about being upset because some business deal had gone sour on him. And he looked right at me and said, 'You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Ariel?'"

"Oh, shit," I exclaimed.

"Yeah. Well, I'm a better actress than he is by a sea mile—in that line of work you have to be—so I just stared back all round-eyed and said 'What do you mean, Bobby? I don't know anything about your business.' And he said, 'Ariel, my computer's got this little piece of software that lets me know when it's been used, and it told me you were using it when I was sleeping the other night.'"

"Double shit."

"Not that bad, actually. I told him sure, Bobby, I tried to wake you up but you wouldn't, and I didn't want to leave, so I played some solitaire on it for a while hoping you'd wake back up and give me what I wanted."

"Nice save," I admired.

"Well, I kind of helped it along by stripping down as I was saying it. I mean, if the cops were coming, and the reporters, they needed to see something besides two clothed people sitting around, right? And I started working on undressing him, too. I wanted the full monty if I could get it."

"So you conned him?"

"Not really," she said sourly. "Bobby isn't the brightest star in the sky, but he wasn't that dumb; it was too much coincidence. So about the time I got him naked and went down on him he got out his cell. I was sucking away—Jesus, I shouldn't be saying this to you, Larry, dammit I'm sorry—"

"Susan, it is what it is," I said, shaking my head. "It's who you were, not who you are, and that's part of it. Just forget about upsetting me for now, OK?"

She gave an audible sigh. "God, I hate this part for you. For me, too, but mostly for you. You deserve so much better."

"There is no better," I told her as gently as I could manage, but still being firm. "Now go on, he got out his cell phone."

"Uh-huh, and I could hear him, he didn't even try to hide it. He told whoever was on the other end, 'As planned, I think you're right as usual. But half an hour, OK?' And I knew what it meant, and I think he wanted me to. That was for pretty sure Walter he called, and he knew I knew. He wanted me to know I had about half an hour left to live and most of that was going to spent sucking and fucking him."