The Doorman Page 6

  “There’s got to be something,” he mumbled, standing up again.

  Lionell glanced over at a painting of a gray whale wrecking vengeance upon a whaleboat. Doomed little sailors struggled for their lives and held onto whatever they could. Another wall mural featured the skeleton of a dinosaur. More voices—this time just beyond the side-door. Lionel hurried to the front door and slipped out into the main hall, breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping his lungs for oxygen.

  As he left the area, he was upset that he came so close to the suspects but wasn’t able to find out their identities. Sometimes a man just had to be patient. He didn’t want to end up in an unmarked grave. Anyway, he was reasonably sure about what was going on. A full-on cover-up was in play. The conspirators were taking steps to silence lips and cover up their crimes and not just the death of a senator. Now it was just a matter of Lionel finding out their identities—without becoming the next victim. It would be a cold day in hell before anyone kept a secret from Lionel C. Ratlif. It was time to pay a little visit to Congressman Henderson. Lionel would find out what dirty little secret was discussed in the Atlantic Room. Then he would brief Chuck Brandt.

  CHAPTER 13

  Port of Philadelphia

  Chuck threw a little backpack over the fence surrounding the container yard at the Port of Baltimore. He then threw a Ravens blanket over the barb wire at the top of the fence. Using the chain-links as handholds, he climbed metal curtain. Pulling himself over the blanket, his clothes were snagged and torn, but not badly, and he was able to get over the barb-wire with no trouble and no cuts and leap down inside the yard, rolling to break his fall.

  Working fast, he opened his little knapsack and put on an orange reflector vest and a white hard hat. The backpack he stuffed between two containers. Walking through the yard, he made his way to the waterfront, where he scanned the ships that were lined up along the wharf. He saw freighters from South Korea, China, and the Philippines, but none from Syria.

  He leaned against a lamp post and re-read an encrypted email from Lawrence:

  “According to NSA, Delilah just talked with an international killer named Gavin Grimes. She asked if the ship was ready to sail. She didn’t mention which ship, but mentioned a Captain Zonana, who has been identified as a Syrian. Grimes said he would find out if the ship was ready to go. There seemed to be a lot of urgency about it. We’re not sure, but we think the ship is a Syrian cargo ship.”

  Chuck saw three stevedores heading his way, so he backtracked to the fence and climbed out.

  Heading to another area of the port, he wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t seen any ship offloading cargo. According to Lawrence, the NSA had found no record of such a Syrian ship on the port’s schedule. Nevertheless, Chuck knew that black market ships pulled all kinds of tricks. He was going to see if he could beat them at their own game.

  Walking the waterfront over the next hour, he saw ships from all over the world, including many countries in the Middle East. He nonchalantly took notes, but found no Syrian ship. He was soon walking in the vicinity of the Packer Avenue Marine Terminal. A Panama-flagged ship called the MSC JUDITH dominated the landscape. It stretched close to a thousand feet in length. Not what he was after, but stunning to see. The view facing north from the Packer Avenue Marine Terminal was even more amazing. He was gazing at the train cars on the CP storage tracks along Delaware Avenue. The twin smoke stacks of the famous SS United States made a dramatic background. The famous SS United States was an American icon among cruise ships. Time had taken a toll on the beautiful old ocean liner. Chuck knew of her because she had been docked in Philadelphia for years as restoration efforts were planned. He might have enjoyed the moment more if he wasn’t worried about the backroom deals in DC. The moral corrosion of the House leadership was a matter of concern. The USS United States had been rusting away for decades, but she could be restored with enough capital, elbow grease, and love. Chuck doubted, however, that the consciences of the dirty players in the DC could be so easily repaired. What really bothered him, though, was the two stevedores headed his way. They were starting to look familiar.

  In general, Chuck was not bothered by stevedores, but at least one of these was armed. Beneath his brown jacket, Chuck could see the bulge of a side holster. The big guy with the beard and the insulated brown jacket was glaring at Chuck. The lean, rangy dude had a kind of salamander face with bulgy eyes.

  Chuck turned away from them.

  “Hey, stay right there,” the thug in the brown jacket said in a Brooklyn accent.

  “I’m looking for the USS United States,” Chuck said, facing them. “Is that it over there?”

  “Of course it is, you blind moron. I hear you been taking notes about ships in restricted areas.”

  “You know something? I’ll bet your mother is embarrassed to have had a son like you.”

  The big man shot a look at his friend with the salamander face. He said, “Looks like we got a wise guy here. Okay, take a hike, clown, before I mess you up.”

  “No problem,” Chuck said, turning and walking away.

  “And I better not see you around here again.”

  Chuck didn’t respond. He was puzzled by the aggressive attitude.

  “You hear me, Brandt? I see you again and I’ll put a bullet in your face.”

  Chuck stopped and almost turned, but he kept walking instead. He now realized why the stevedore was behaving in strange ways. This was no ordinary dock worker—if he was a stevedore at all. He was a legitimate badass who was aching for an excuse to gun him down.

  Clearly, Chuck realized that he must have been getting close, but how had these hoods been alerted about him? That he did not know.

  He thought of calling Ratlif to see if he’d had any better luck in the Capitol, but decided against it. He would talk to the doorman soon enough. For now, he must check on JJ’s surveillance effort. Chuck was worried about his safety if he made any reckless moves like when he’d gone out and bought a new truck.

  CHAPTER 14

  Washington DC

  Two hours after leaving the Atlantic Room, Lionel Ratlif approached the door to the steam bath in the House Gym. It was time to confront Congressman Henderson and get to the bottom of the situation. Lionel knew Henderson well. The congressman, along with many others, made it a habit of inviting Lionel to his parties because Lionel knew everyone in town by name, especially members of congress. Lionel would stand at his side and rattle off names as people entered the room. Lionel would not only whisper a name his ear, but also a few details about the newest guest’s interests. Lionel would even provide an intelligent observation related to the guest’s hobbies or legislative interests. It had often been said that he knew everything about everybody. That was not far from the truth.

  Lionel was not a man who looked good with his shirt off. At home he didn’t have to avoid mirrors because there were very few in the house. He didn’t look horrible, but he spent too little time in the House Gym or any other place of exercise. Lionel’s one form of exercise was climbing the stairway to the dome of the Rotunda, and this he did each day. Weight lifting was slow and time consuming, and a man who was lifting weights was not overhearing conversations in the halls of the Capitol building. Lionel learned long ago that a man had to have his priorities straight. Most of the congressmen who worked out in the gym didn’t learn all the secrets that he did. There was no way of knowing what new shred of intelligence he would overlook or what new piece of Washington’s scandalous historical puzzle he would miss if he spent countless hours in the gym.

  Today, however, was an exception. One of his employees was the locker room attendant in the House Gym. From him, Lionel had learned that Henderson was following his usual routine. Plus, the gym was nigh empty today, and it was a rare day when you could catch Henderson alone.

  Entering the steam bath, Lionel peered around in the thick cloud for a moment and spotted a vague form in the superheated mist.

  “Congressman Henderson, is tha
t you?”

  “I didn’t know you worked out, Ratlif. Never seen you here before.”

  “Yes, well, I’m afraid I’ve let myself go. It’s time to turn the tide. This is my kind of workout. Burn the tension out of my muscles.”

  “There you go. You either beat the stress or the stress beats you. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Stress, huh?” With his towel wrapped around his slightly paunch belly, Lionel sat on the bench. “But you’re a congressman, not a practicing lawyer. Most of your esteemed colleagues are not of the impression that your office is a stressful one.”

  Henderson waved away the thickening steam between them. “Nonsense. Re-election time is approaching. They don’t call this blood sport for nothing.”

  “Re-election time is always approaching.”

  “My point exactly. When a man sleeps, his enemies plot his demise.”

  “And who are your enemies, Congressman?”

  He waved the steam away for longer than necessary. “Depends on the race. In the upcoming election—”

  “I’m not talking about your election, sir. I’m talking about your enemies here in DC, right here in the Capitol building.”

  “What are you asking me that for, Ratlif?”

  “It’s a good thing you come here, Ty. Like you said, a man has to deal with his stress, and yours has been unusually high lately. Why is that? Is it because of an election? I don’t think so. Who were you meeting with in the Atlantic Room earlier?

  Henderson leaned forward in the steam, and Lionel saw a spark on anger in his eyes. “What do you know about that?”

  “I’d like to know more.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I was alone in there, working on education reform.”

  Lionel shook his head skeptically. “I don’t think so. I heard you were highly agitated when you left the room.”

  Henderson glared at him through the haze. Then he said, “What difference does any of this make to you? Who sent you here?”

  “Look, Congressman, just relax. We’re friends, right? When a friend sees that a friend is in trouble, he tries to help out, right? That’s all I’m doing here. I’m worried about you. I think some arm twisting is going on. Maybe I can help you.”

  “You’re the doorman. How are you going to help me?”

  Lionel winced. He absorbed the pain of that jab. He had long since humbled himself and accepted that he was seen by some as inferior, but Henderson had always been friendly.

  “Look, Congressman, I know that you probably have some dark secrets. I also know that a man with skeletons in his closet has vulnerabilities.”

  Henderson stood up and pointed at Lionel. “I think you’re becoming a know-it-all. I think you better mind your own business. Whatever you think you know about me is fantasy, so mind your own business. Got it?”

  “Look at you, Henderson. You’re wound up. That’s not the guy I know. I can help you.”

  “This is over your head, Ratlif.”

  “Just shut up a minute and listen. I know more than you think. Prior to your coming to Washington, you were president and then chairman of the Jacksonville First National Bank in Florida. In that capacity, you borrowed $4.7 million from the First National Bank in New York.”

  Henderson bristled in the steam. He stepped toward Lionel, steam swirling around his shirtless body. He was a man who worked out a lot and was much more muscular than Lionel. Lionel saw that the man’s six-pack was ripped. His arms were flared out and his fingers were spread apart. Lionel was not worried yet, though.

  “Who the hell have you been talking to?” Henderson said.

  “That doesn’t matter, does it? After all, we’re just talking about my fantasies here, right? Like my fantasy about you taking out a $1.9 million personal loan from Herod’s Trust Company in Los Angeles. I’m sure it’s just coincidence that your bank had also opened a correspondent relationship with the California bank.”

  Henderson stood there in the fog, his face as red as a lobster. He looked shaken. No, scared—that was it.

  Lionel said, “Relax, Congressman. Keep in mind, we’re just talking fantasies here, such as my fantasy that there may be an appearance of banking violations and conflict-of-interest rules.”

  Henderson stretched out his fingers as if he was thinking about wringing Lionel’s soft neck. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  “One of who?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, you back stabbing—”

  “I’m not here to hurt you, Congressman. I’m here to help you.”

  “This is a test, isn’t it?”

  “What test? Nonsense. I need to know who you were meeting with in the Atlantic Room.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”

  “And who told you those lies?”

  “They aren’t lies, Ty. We both know they are true; otherwise, you wouldn’t be so worried. I’m here to help you. I think they know what I know about your dirty little secrets. I’m the only friend you have, but you need to level with me. Who was at that meeting?”

  Henderson’s stretched-out fingers were shaking, evidently from adrenaline. He glared wild-eyed at Lionel.

  The doorman said, “Talk to me. I’m going to find out anyway, but the sooner I do, the more likely I can help. I think you’re being blackmailed. I can help you.”

  Henderson stepped back. “No, you can’t. You’re a doorman. I’m warning you, Ratlif. You keep your mouth shut or I promise you’ll live to regret it.” He rushed out of the steam bath.

  As the door slammed, Lionel felt a wave of cold air wash across his dripping bare chest.

  Now he was sure that Henderson was lying to him. His reaction did not match up with the meeting being a routine work session on education reform. Whatever happened in there, Henderson had something to hide. He wasn’t the only one either. Congressman Salvador Rosa was also caught up in the same mess. Lionel’s workout was done for today. There was still time for one more thing. This was pure slime, but he had to do it.

  CHAPTER 15

  Potomac Neighborhood

  Upon arriving at the mansion, Chuck called ahead, so JJ didn’t panic if he heard someone in the house. Walking through the halls and rooms, he was impressed with the work that had been done. The windows were all open now, so the ammonia smell was not strong anymore. All of the broken furniture had been hauled out and piled into a dumpster. Some of the holes in the walls had already been patched up. The painting would come later. Much of the carpet had been torn up and hauled out. Things were moving quickly, especially considering that the crews didn’t work nights. Chuck went around the checked the first-floor doors and windows to be sure that they were locked. He noticed that several broken windows had been fixed. Fortunately, it was too dark to see the pool. It would have to be filled in and covered up with a brick patio.

  Upstairs, he knocked on the door and went in. A strong smell of fresh paint filled the room. Fortunately, the window was cracked open.

  “You’re early,” JJ said. The dark bags under his eyes made it look like he hadn’t been sleeping enough. They gave him a raccoon appearance.

  “Why not? I figured you could use a break.” Chuck spotted a Smith and Wesson .45 on the desk. “New toy?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “It’s good you keep it handy,” Chuck said. “You never know when you might need protection.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “You want to take a break?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to check on my son, but I need an hour’s sleep first.”

  “Okay. Anyway, I’ve got a hunch about something. How’d it go today?”

  “Things are starting to warm up over at the Vogel mansion.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, there was action over there a few hours ago. You wouldn’t believe it. Three cars showed up. They all parked in the driveway or on the street. All men. The first two guys that showed up didn�
��t say much but they seemed to know who was coming.

  “Then the third guy showed up. They addressed him as ‘Congressman,’ so I paid close attention. After a while they became less respectful and called him Grunewald. Can you believe it? It was Congressman Grunewald from New Hampshire?”

  “What was he doing down here?”

  “That’s where it gets interesting. At first, Delilah thanked him for all he had done for her. Here, listen to this.” JJ started the playback of the recording, which he had all cued up.

  “Congressman, I want to thank you for all you’ve done for US Shipping Company.” It was a woman’s voice.

  “That’s Delilah,” JJ said, touching the pause button. After a moment, he started it again. “Ah, don’t mention it. What are friends for?”

  “I hope you enjoyed the trips down to the Cayman Islands,” Delilah said.

  “They were wonderful. I’d like to go again next month if you can work it out. I’d take that in lieu of your next cash payment.”

  “We might work that out,” Delilah said. “I feel very good about our relationship, but I need to know that I can depend on you for other things beyond government contracts.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I need reports, Congressman, related to your work on the Omnibus Spending Bill.”

  “Well, that’s a tough one. Most of what goes on behind those closed doors stays there. Plus, I missed some of the meetings. We deal in a lot of classified information.”