for him. Did whatever he asked, long hours, never complained. In return he introduced her around. Madelyn did the rest.
“If you knew her, which of course you didn’t, you’d come to understand that with Madelyn, all it took was an opening, a crack in the door, and she was in. She had a natural talent for self-promotion. If you had a vital project, lives depending on it, and you were looking for somebody to put in a forty-hour workday to get it done before men died, Madelyn was your cookie. She could be efficient to the point of obsession.”
“Sounds like you knew her pretty well,” says Harry.
“Nobody knew Madelyn. Not really. Not if you mean the heaving, heaping boiler-stoked-with-white-hot-coals, engine-of-ambition Madelyn. And that’s what she was ninety-eight percent of the time.”
“And the other two percent?” I ask.
He looks at me but doesn’t respond.
“Where did you get all this information, the history on her and Satz?” I ask.
“Part of it came from Madelyn. Partly, bits and pieces, what I heard.”
“Go on.”
“The rest,” he explains, “requires a bit of faith. I don’t have any solid information. You sort of have to piece things together. Toward the end Madelyn was scared. Not all the time, mind you, but at times. Something was happening. I don’t know the details. But I do know that she and Satz had some kind of a falling-out. A serious disagreement. I don’t know what it was about, but it’s not a long leap to assume that it had something to do with this IFS thing, Information for Security. She was angry, she was pissed, but most of all she was scared. Madelyn was used to getting her way. But something had gone wrong.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. But from what I saw and heard, she was in a box and was having trouble finding her way out. Satz asked her to do him a personal favor. She told him she couldn’t do it.”
“She told you this?”
“Not in so many words. But I’m fairly certain.”
“What kind of favor?” Harry presses.
“I’m not sure. It had something to do with business. I assumed it had to do with IFS. The newspapers were full of it at the time. The news out of Washington was that Congress was going to kill the program unless they could find some fix for privacy issues. They don’t care if a few hundred soldiers get killed hunting. From what I heard, whatever it was that Satz wanted her to do, there were risks—more than she wanted to take—and their relationship, Chapman and Satz’s, had changed. She wasn’t some young staffer at the Pentagon anymore. Madelyn was big business, with a multibillion-dollar stake, and if I had to guess, given the sweat she was in, whatever Satz was asking her to do was threatening to put all that in jeopardy.”
“But you don’t know what it was that he was asking?” I persist.
Ruiz shakes his head.
“The last I heard, she was about to tell him she couldn’t do it. That was the last time I saw her.”
“When was that?”
“About two weeks before she was killed.” He looks at me as he says it, reading the expression on my face, which is one of surprise. This information is not in the file. Nor was it in any of Kendal’s notes that he passed to me. If Ruiz told any of his other lawyers about this, they knew better than to reduce it to writing.
Suddenly there’s a deafening sound, loud enough that it feels as if someone has driven a spike through my eardrums. Ruiz’s lips move but I can’t hear a word. I look at Harry and he has both hands over his ears. The Klaxon, a buzzer in a box high on the wall behind us, has erupted, drowning out everything else in the room.
The guard comes in waving his arms. He makes a motion, one finger across his throat. The interview is over.
Harry cups a hand over his mouth and then to my ear and, loud enough that I can just hear him, says: “Lockdown.”
Something has happened. Another guard comes into the room and we are quickly ushered toward the door. The
“If you knew her, which of course you didn’t, you’d come to understand that with Madelyn, all it took was an opening, a crack in the door, and she was in. She had a natural talent for self-promotion. If you had a vital project, lives depending on it, and you were looking for somebody to put in a forty-hour workday to get it done before men died, Madelyn was your cookie. She could be efficient to the point of obsession.”
“Sounds like you knew her pretty well,” says Harry.
“Nobody knew Madelyn. Not really. Not if you mean the heaving, heaping boiler-stoked-with-white-hot-coals, engine-of-ambition Madelyn. And that’s what she was ninety-eight percent of the time.”
“And the other two percent?” I ask.
He looks at me but doesn’t respond.
“Where did you get all this information, the history on her and Satz?” I ask.
“Part of it came from Madelyn. Partly, bits and pieces, what I heard.”
“Go on.”
“The rest,” he explains, “requires a bit of faith. I don’t have any solid information. You sort of have to piece things together. Toward the end Madelyn was scared. Not all the time, mind you, but at times. Something was happening. I don’t know the details. But I do know that she and Satz had some kind of a falling-out. A serious disagreement. I don’t know what it was about, but it’s not a long leap to assume that it had something to do with this IFS thing, Information for Security. She was angry, she was pissed, but most of all she was scared. Madelyn was used to getting her way. But something had gone wrong.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. But from what I saw and heard, she was in a box and was having trouble finding her way out. Satz asked her to do him a personal favor. She told him she couldn’t do it.”
“She told you this?”
“Not in so many words. But I’m fairly certain.”
“What kind of favor?” Harry presses.
“I’m not sure. It had something to do with business. I assumed it had to do with IFS. The newspapers were full of it at the time. The news out of Washington was that Congress was going to kill the program unless they could find some fix for privacy issues. They don’t care if a few hundred soldiers get killed hunting. From what I heard, whatever it was that Satz wanted her to do, there were risks—more than she wanted to take—and their relationship, Chapman and Satz’s, had changed. She wasn’t some young staffer at the Pentagon anymore. Madelyn was big business, with a multibillion-dollar stake, and if I had to guess, given the sweat she was in, whatever Satz was asking her to do was threatening to put all that in jeopardy.”
“But you don’t know what it was that he was asking?” I persist.
Ruiz shakes his head.
“The last I heard, she was about to tell him she couldn’t do it. That was the last time I saw her.”
“When was that?”
“About two weeks before she was killed.” He looks at me as he says it, reading the expression on my face, which is one of surprise. This information is not in the file. Nor was it in any of Kendal’s notes that he passed to me. If Ruiz told any of his other lawyers about this, they knew better than to reduce it to writing.
Suddenly there’s a deafening sound, loud enough that it feels as if someone has driven a spike through my eardrums. Ruiz’s lips move but I can’t hear a word. I look at Harry and he has both hands over his ears. The Klaxon, a buzzer in a box high on the wall behind us, has erupted, drowning out everything else in the room.
The guard comes in waving his arms. He makes a motion, one finger across his throat. The interview is over.
Harry cups a hand over his mouth and then to my ear and, loud enough that I can just hear him, says: “Lockdown.”
Something has happened. Another guard comes into the room and we are quickly ushered toward the door. The
Similar Books
