He watched some heads turning in consternation, but there was no murmuring at all. Taking one last glance down at his notes, he said, ―Mr.
Doll, why isn‘t your boss, Mr. Marks, in attendance this morning?‖
Rory Doll coughed into his fist. ―I believe he‘s in the field, sir.‖
As the Arab looked at Doll, a fair-haired wisp of a man with electric blue eyes, he smiled winningly. ―You believehe‘s in the field or you knowhe‘s in the field?‖
―I know it, sir. He told me himself.‖
―All right, then.‖ Danziger‘s smile hadn‘t budged. ― Wherein the field?‖
―He didn‘t specify, sir.‖
―And I assume you didn‘t ask him.‖
―Sir, with all due respect, if Chief Marks wanted me to know, he would‘ve told me.‖
Without taking his eyes off Marks‘s second, the Arab closed the file in front of him. It seemed as if the entire room were holding its collective breath. ―Quite right. I approve of sound security procedure,‖ the new DCI said. ―Please ensure Marks comes to see me the moment he returns.‖
His gaze broke away from Doll at last and roved around the table, engaging in turn each of the senior officers. ―All right, shall we proceed?
From this moment on all the resources of CI will be bent toward the undermining and destruction of the current regime in Iran.‖
A frisson of excitement raced like wildfire from officer to officer.
―In a few moments I‘ll outline to you the overarching operation to exploit a new pro-American indigenous Iranian underground, ready and able, with our support, to topple the regime from inside Iran.‖
When it comes to the police commissioner in this town,‖ Willard said,
―throwing your weight around is worse than useless. I say that because the PC
is used to getting his own way, even with the mayor. He isn‘t intimidated by feds, and he‘s not shy about saying so.‖
Willard and Peter Marks were mounting the stone steps of a brown-stone far enough off Dupont Circle not to be snooty, but close enough to be a recipient of the area‘s innate urbanity. This was wholly Willard‘s doing.
Having ascertained that Lester Burrows, the police commissioner, was gone for the day, Willard had directed them to this block, to this specific brownstone.
―That being the case, the only smart way to play him is with psychology.
Honey is a powerful incentive inside the Beltway, never more so than with the Metro police.‖
―You know Commissioner Burrows?‖
―Know him?‖ Willard said. ―He and I trod the boards in college; we played Othellotogether. He was a helluva Moor, let me tell you, scary-good—I knew his rage was genuine because I knew where he came from.‖ He nodded, as if to himself. ―Lester Burrows is one African American who has transcended the utter poverty of his childhood in every sense of the word. That‘s not to say he‘s forgotten it, not by a long shot, but, unlike his predecessor, who never met a bribe he didn‘t take, Lester Burrows is a good man underneath the mean streak he‘s cultivated to protect himself, his office, and his men.‖
―So he‘ll listen to you,‖ Marks said.
―I don‘t know about that‖—Willard‘s eyes twinkled—‖but he sure as hell won‘t turn me away.‖
There was a brass knocker in the shape of an elephant that Willard used to announce their presence.
―What is this place?‖ Marks asked.
―You‘ll see soon enough. Just follow my lead and you‘ll be okay.‖
The door opened, revealing a young African American woman dressed in a fashionable business suit. She blinked once and said, ―Freddy, is that really you?‖
Willard chuckled. ―It‘s been a while, Reese, hasn‘t it?‖
―Years and years,‖ the young woman said, a smile creasing her face.
―Well, don‘t just stand there, come on in. He‘s going to be tickled beige to see you.‖
―To fleece me, you mean.‖
Now it was the young woman‘s turn to chuckle, a warm, rich sound that seemed to caress the listener‘s ear.
―Reese, this is a friend of mine, Peter Marks.‖
The young woman stuck out her hand in a no-nonsense fashion. She had a rather square face with an aggressive chin and worldly eyes the color of bourbon. ―Any friend of Freddy‘s…‖ Her smile deepened. ―Reese Williams.‖
―The commissioner‘s strong right hand,‖ Willard supplied.
―Oh, yes.‖ She laughed. ―What wouldhe do without me?‖
She led them down a softly lit, wood-paneled hallway, decorated with photos and watercolors of African wildlife, most predominantly elephants, with a smattering of rhinos, zebras, and giraffes thrown in.
They arrived soon after at double pocket doors, which Reese threw open to a blue cloud of aromatic cigar smoke, the discreet clink of glassware, and the fast-paced dealing of cards on a green baize table in the center of the library. Six men—including Commissioner Burrows—and one woman sat around the table, playing poker. All of them were high up in various departments of the district‘s political infrastructure. The ones Marks didn‘t know on sight, Willard identified for him.
As they stood on the threshold, Reese went ahead of them, crossing to the table, where Burrows sat, patiently playing his hand. She waited just behind his right shoulder until he‘d raked in the considerable pot, then leaned over and whispered in his ear.
At once the commissioner glanced up and a wide smile spread over his face. ―Goddammit!‖ he exclaimed, pushing his chair back and rising. ―Well, wash my socks and call me Andy, if it isn‘t Freddy Fucking Willard!‖ He strode over and engulfed Willard in a bear hug. He was a massive man with a bowling-ball head, who looked like an overstuffed sausage. His freckle-dappled cheeks belied the master manipulator‘s eyes and the pensive mouth of a seasoned politician.
Willard introduced Marks and the commissioner pumped his hand with that sinister warmth peculiar to people in public life, which flicks on and off with the quickness of a lightning strike.
―If you‘ve come to play,‖ Burrows said, ―you‘ve come to the right joint.‖
―Actually, we‘ve come to ask you about Detectives Sampson and Montgomery,‖ Marks said impulsively.
The commissioner‘s brow pulled down, darkening into a furry mass. ―Who are Sampson and Montgomery?‖
―With all due respect, sir, you know who they are.‖
―Son, are you some sort of psychic?‖ Burrows turned on Willard. ―Freddy, who the hell is he to tell me what I know?‖
―Ignore him, Lester.‖ Willard inserted himself between Marks and the commissioner. ―Peter‘s been a little on edge since he went off his medication.‖