Phillip Margolin - Executive Privilege

“Look, Miss Cutler, I’ve had a long day. Call my secretary tomorrow and make an appointment if you have something to discuss with me.”

“This can’t wait. My business concerns another Kendall, Barrett client, Claire Farrington.”

Dana extended her hand toward Rickstein. In it was a manila envelope.

“I want you to give this to the first lady. There is a photograph and a cell phone in the package. You’re free to have the cell phone examined to make sure it’s not a bomb, but I’d advise you against looking at the photograph. You’re better off not knowing what it shows. It might interfere with your ability to represent your client.

“When you give the envelope to Dr. Farrington tell her that I lied to the police when I said I didn’t go back to the parking lot at the Dulles Towne Center mall. I wasn’t planning on going back when I left her the voice message, but I got curious. Tell her I took several very interesting photographs that aren’t in the envelope. I’ll call her on the cell phone and tell her how she can get the pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m not going to involve myself in it.”

“I can’t think of any other way to communicate with Dr. Farrington. People like me can’t just ring the doorbell at the White House and ask to meet with the first lady.”

“What you’re suggesting sounds like blackmail and I will not assist you. Furthermore, if I hear you’re persisting in this scheme I’ll go to the police and let them deal with you.”

“You really don’t want to do that, Mr. Rickstein. Not if you’re concerned about the best interests of your client. Remember the photographs in Exposed that caused President Farrington’s problems? I took them, and I tried to be fair. Before I went anywhere else I met with Mr. Perry and offered to sell the photos to the president. Dale and the president double-crossed me, so I sold them to Exposed. The stories in Exposed are probably going to cost Farrington the election. The picture in that envelope could cost your client her life. So you decide what to do, but make it fast. If you turn me down I’ll call Patrick Gorman at Exposed. He gave me the number of his home phone after the success he had with my first batch of candid snapshots.”

The morning after her meeting with Rickstein, Dana called the lawyer at his office to find out when he was going to meet with Claire Farrington. Dana figured that Rickstein would hand over the envelope in the first ten minutes of the meeting along with her message. Once Dr. Farrington got a glimpse of the photograph she would ask Rickstein to leave because she wouldn’t want to risk the lawyer seeing it or overhearing her conversation with Dana. Dana calculated that the first lady would begin studying the picture about fifteen minutes after Rickstein’s arrival. That’s when she placed the call. She wanted Farrington to see the picture, but she didn’t want to give her a lot of time to think before making her demands.

The first lady answered the phone after two rings.

“Dr. Farrington?”

“Who else would have this phone?” Farrington asked angrily.

“Getting upset won’t solve your problem. This is strictly a business proposition for me. I tried to explain that to Dale Perry and your husband but they decided it would be better to kill me than meet my very reasonable demands. Look where that got them. Dale’s dead, and your husband is probably going to be out of a job come November. I can guarantee he’ll lose the election and you’ll go to prison by selling the photos of you at the Dulles Towne Center lot to Exposed, but they don’t pay nearly as well as you will.”

“What do you want?”

“Three million dollars wired today to the account number you’ll find in the envelope. If the money is safely in my account you get the pictures.”

“I have no idea what you think these photographs have to do with me. They just show someone in a sweatshirt opening a car door. You can’t see the person’s face. I can’t even tell if it’s a man or a woman.”

Dana laughed. “I can see you’re worried that I’m taping this conversation. I’m not. But if it makes you feel better I won’t ask you to say anything incriminating.

“Getting back to the reasons you’ll pay, there’s no question that the person in my pictures is identical to the figure in the stairwell at the Theodore Roosevelt Hotel. More important, there is a very nice photograph I didn’t give you for fear that Mort Rickstein’s curiosity would get the better of him. In this photograph, the hood is back just enough to see you staring menacingly into Charlotte Walsh’s car. Enlarge that baby and you’re assured of a date with the executioner.”

“I don’t believe you have pictures that would affect me in the least. But even if I wanted to purchase your pictures, there’s no way I can get three million dollars together today. And I certainly wouldn’t pay a blackmailer a red cent without seeing these pictures you claim are so incriminating.”

“If you want to see the pictures before paying I’ll meet you tonight at midnight in the Dulles Towne Center lot at the spot where Charlotte Walsh parked. It’s wide open at night, and I’ll be able to make sure that you’re alone.”

“It would be extraordinarily difficult for me to get to you without a Secret Service escort.”

“Tell them you don’t want an escort.”

“It’s not that simple. The Secret Service won’t follow my orders if I might be in danger. An agent will have to come with me.”

“All right, you can have an agent drive you, but if you’re planning to arrest me or have me killed, think twice. I know this is a horrible cliché, but I really did give a second set of pictures to a lawyer who’ll send them to Exposed if I meet with an untimely death.”

“Your demands are ridiculous. If I was concerned about your insane accusations I would also be concerned that you’d ask for more money as soon as I paid you. Blackmailers never stop their demands once they’ve got you hooked.”

“Good point, but you have no choice but to trust me. I don’t think you’d enjoy being perp-walked out of the White House on national television. And if you’re still pissed off, think of our transaction this way: the three million is for the mental distress I’ve suffered from trying to stay alive these past weeks. I’m sure a jury would award me more than that if I sued you. But a lawsuit would take years. I prefer one fast transaction.

“And you really don’t have to worry about me coming back for more. If you’ve been briefed on my background you know why I quit the police force. Pay me and I’m out of your life. All I want is to be left alone. Three million dollars will set me up for life.”

Claire Farrington held the cell phone in her hands for several seconds after Dana Cutler ended their call. Then she laid it down next to her on the couch and stared at the photograph of the hooded person standing next to Charlotte Walsh’s car. The photo looked as if it had been taken from a distance from the driver’s side of Walsh’s car. It showed a hooded figure standing next to the driver’s door. Something about the picture bothered her. She didn’t see it for a few seconds. Then she realized that the hooded figure in the photograph was identical to the hooded figure in the surveillance photo taken in the stairwell of the Theodore Roosevelt Hotel.

Claire stared intently at the picture for a few more moments. She smiled. Now she was certain that the picture was as phony as Dana Cutler’s story. The hooded figure was standing so that her right hand appeared to be on the door handle. That was wrong. When she killed Walsh she had grabbed the handle with her left hand so she could pull the door past her left side. If she’d opened the door with her right hand it would have been between her and Walsh.