should push hard on Foreign Relations, can’t hurt to have them on our
side.” Jack flipped open another file.
“We’ve got approximately a month to get this operation up and running.
Of chief concern is Ukraine’s tenuous political status. If we’re going
to hit the brass ring we have to do it pretty quickly. The last thing we
need is Russia annexing our client. Now I’d like to take a few minutes
to go over–2′
The door opened and Jack’s secretary leaned in. She looked edgy.
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you.”
“It’s okay, Martha, what’s up?”
“There’s someone on the phone for you.”
“I told Lucinda to hold my calls except for an emergency.
I’ll get back to everybody tomorrow.”
“I think this might be an emergency.”
Jack swiveled around in his chair. “Who is it?”
“She said her name was Kate Whitney.”
Five minutes later Jack was in his car: a brand-new coppercolored Lexus
300. His thoughts raced. Kate had been near hysterical. All he managed
to understand was that Luther had been arrested. For what he didn’t
know.
KATE OPENED THE DOOR ON THE FIRST KNOCK AND- NEARLY collapsed into his
arms. it was several minutes before she started breathing regularly.
“Kate, what is it? Where’s Luther? What’s he charged with?”
She looked at him, her cheeks so puffy and raw it looked like she’d been
mugged. , When she finally managed to breathe the word out, Jack sat
back stunned.
“Murder?” He looked around the room, his mind going too fast for him to
register. “That’s impossible. Who the hell is he supposed to have
murdered?”
Kate sat up straight and pushed the hair out of her face.
She looked directly at him. This time the words were clear, direct and
cut into him like chunks of jagged glass.
“Christine Sullivan.”
Frozen for a long moment, Jack exploded out of the chair.
He looked down at her, tried to speak and found he couldn’t.
He staggered over to the window, threw it open and let the cold beat
into him. His stomach churned pure acid; it reached up into his throat
until he was barely able to push it back. His legs slowly regained their
rigidity. He closed the window and sat back down next to her.
“What happened, Kate?”
She dabbed raw eyes with a ragged tissue. Her hair was a mass of
tangles. She had not taken off her overcoat. Her shoes lay next to the
chair where she had kicked them off.
She collected herself as best she could. She wiped a strand of hair from
her mouth, and finally looked at him.
The words rolled out of her mouth in quiet bursts. “The police have him
in custody. They, they think he broke into the Sullivans’ home. No one
was supposed to be there…. But Christine Sullivan was.” She paused and
took a deep breath. “They think Luther shot her.” As soon as she uttered
those last words her eyes closed, the eyelids seemed to ram down by
themselves under a terrible weight. She slowly shook her head, her
forehead a stack of wrinkles as the throbbing pain clicked up a notch.
“That’s crazy, Kate. Luther would never kill anybody.”
“I don’t know, Jack. I, I don’t know what to think.”
Jack stood up and took off his coat. He put a hand through his hair as
he struggled to think. He looked down at her.
“How did you find out? How the hell did they catch him?”
In response, Kate’s body shook. The pain seemed to be so strong as to be
visible, hovering above before it plunged repeatedly into her lean
frame. She took a moment to wipe her face with another tissue. It took
her so long to turn to him, one inch at a time, that she seemed like an
ancient grandmother. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing
interrupted by gasps, as if the air was being trapped and was having to
struggle mightily before escaping.
Finally her eyes opened. The lips moved but no words came out at first.
Then she managed to say them, slowly, distinctly, as though she were
forcing herself to absorb every blow that accompanied them as long as