THE BALLROOM IN CONSTITUTION HALL was crowded with military officers, members of Congress, Capitol Hill staff, diplomats, a few foreign dignitaries, representatives of military organizations and veterans groups, many spouses of the foregoing, and a handful of reporters and television news anchors.
Fiona was sipping a glass of punch. Then she noticed something. Reaching over, she delicately adjusted her husband’s bow tie and tugged gently on his black tuxedo to straighten it. Will looked at her and smiled. She was dazzling. Her raven-colored hair was swept back expertly, and her eyes sparkled like the diamonds on her ears and around her neck. She cocked her head a little and smiled broadly enough to show both of her dimples.
By now Will was staring at her…grinning like a high-school kid.
Earlier that night the two of them had agreed to a peace treaty—to end the little border skirmish brewing between them. Fiona had said she just loved Will too much not to cut him a healthy slice of grace. He, in turn, had pledged to put his whole mind and heart into communicating his feelings.
“What?” she asked as she noticed the lovestruck look in his eyes.
“You’re absolutely stunning tonight,” her husband said. He discreetly slipped his hand around her waist, and pulling her slightly toward him, whispered in her ear, “You’re absolutely dazzling—brighter than the light on the Capitol dome—and you’re all mine. Am I blessed or what?”
Amid the noise of the crowd she bent over and whispered in his ear, “Keep dishing out the compliments, big boy—you still have a lot of territory to make up!”
Will chuckled. Then he spotted an officer striding toward them in full dress uniform. He introduced himself as Lieutenant General Cal Tucker, United States Marine Corps.
He nodded politely to Fiona, and then he turned to Will and extended a big right hand.
“Counselor, I appreciate what you did for Colonel Marlowe. And what you’re going to do.”
As Will clasped the general’s hand firmly and studied him, he had the distinct impression that this terse comment was not just idle conversation. In a strange way, Will felt as if he had just received a direct order.
“Thank you, General. I’m going to do everything I can for the colonel. You can count on that.”
“About this ICC thing,” Tucker continued, “have you tried back-channeling this to the administration?”
“I’ve been in touch with the State Department. They’re playing it coy. I’m really not sure what their position is going to be in terms of joining us in the defense…as strange as that seems to me.”
The general nodded. “Yes—that sounds just about right. Well, keep up the good effort.”
Then he turned to Fiona and said, “Mrs. Chambers, I haven’t had the pleasure of listening to your music. But I want you to know that my daughter’s a big fan of yours. She’s got a number of your CDs, and I believe she’s caught at least one of your concerts. She wanted to make sure that I said hello.”
Fiona smiled warmly. “I’m so pleased that she appreciates my music ministry. Please give her my warmest regards. And thank you, General, for your service to our country.”
Tucker smiled and turned to leave.
“And thank you also, General, for the invitation,” Will added.
The general gave a quick wave as he strode away and disappeared into the crowd.
Will led Fiona over to the long table of hors d’oeuvres in the middle of the hall. She waved it away, but her husband picked off several Swedish meatballs and a few shrimp. Munching on his booty, Will glanced vaguely at the sea of faces around the room. Then something caught his eye. A familiar face.
Will’s riveted expression caught Fiona’s awareness. She tugged at his sleeve and gave him a quizzical look.
But his attention was not diverted. He was staring across the room…into the eyes of Senator Jason Bell Purdy. Surrounded by a small group, Purdy had stopped talking in mid-conversation and was staring back at Will. The senator lifted his glass and tipped it toward the attorney.
Will half raised his glass of ginger ale and tipped it in Purdy’s direction.
There was a broad, confident smile on the other man’s face. Then he turned back to his small group of well-wishers and continued his conversation.
“Who is that?” Fiona asked. “He looks familiar. Who is he?”
“Senator Jason Bell Purdy. From Georgia.”
“Oh, so that is Jason Bell Purdy,” she remarked. “You met him during that custody case in Georgia.”
Will nodded.
“And he’s the one with the young niece. The one who reminded you of Audra,” she added. “You also met her, didn’t you?”
Her husband nooded again and was about to change the subject when Fiona continued.
“The pretty, young, blond niece. The one who flirted with you in Purdy’s mansion?”
Will did not reply diplomatically. “Fiona, you’re not jealous, are you?”
He smiled and studied his wife’s face, which was now in full blush.
“You know, my dear,” he said, whispering in her ear again, “you’re always beautiful. But when you blush like that, you’re absolutely indescribable.”
Fiona’s eyes narrowed. Her lips twisted a bit into an odd little smile.
“I am not jealous. I am…okay, yes. That was a hurtful time. I remember that phone call, and how you told me about spending time with his niece. How you were so attracted to her—”
“Whoa—stop,” Will broke in. “First, let the record reflect that Purdy set up that meeting with his niece. He was trying to tool me around. I think he was playing some kind of mind game with me. He knew my background with Audra. And I will believe to my dying day that he was planning on using his niece to manipulate me because I was about to expose his financial misdealings down there in Georgia. I caught on to his little game, and I called his bluff.”
“Will, just listen to you,” Fiona replied. “You make it sound like this was just some high-stakes game of wits. When you told me about that meeting you had with her, I was really wounded.”
“Fiona, darling, that was just a one-time encounter with that girl. Orchestrated by Purdy. I’ve never seen her since. Besides, it was before we were even engaged.”
“So you were playing the field?”
“Of course not,” Will responded. “Purdy was trying to play me.”
Then he took her slender hand in his, squeezed it, and looked into her eyes.
“You know how much I love you? Don’t ever forget how much I love you.”
Fiona’s expression started to change. She looked down and then looked up again. Her eyes were tearing up. She managed to smile at him, then she grabbed both of his hands and squeezed them.
“Can we go home now?”
Will nodded. He popped one of the Swedish meatballs into his mouth, gave his plate to one of the waiters, and took his beautiful bride arm in arm out to the vestibule, where they hailed a cab.
Fiona was holding on to his arm tightly, but she was pensive, deep in thought. Struggling to achieve some objectivity—and mask her hurt—she asked him about Purdy.
“Isn’t he the senator who issued the subpoena for you? The one who’s having you testify before a subcommittee—that Senator Purdy?”
Will nodded.
“So you have a real history with this man…and yet he wants to bring you up before his subcommittee—before the whole world—and have you testify. That’s seems odd, doesn’t it?”
As the two stood by the cabstand, Will considered her comment. Just one more example of how she could, at the most unexpected times, display her unique perception.
“You’re right on the money,” he replied. “That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering. Of course, we’ve got an agreement in writing, narrowly limiting the scope of my testimony. So maybe Purdy and his staff feel they can keep me pigeon-holed so I can’t bring out any of the dirt that I know about him. Besides, all that stuff back in Georgia—his information-launderers and spin doctors did an excellent job of explaining all that away before he was selected to fill the term of the senator who died. But you’re absolutely right. Our prior relationship does put this in a curious light. And then there’s also something else—something else that’s been weighing on my mind.”
Will thrust his hand out and a cab pulled over.
As he opened the door for his wife he added, “I also wonder how much Purdy knows about the International Criminal Court charges against Marlowe. I’m sure he must.”
He closed the door, walked to the other side of the cab, and scooted into the backseat next to Fiona.
“So, what do you think?” she said, pursuing the issue. “How is the international case going to affect what you say in your testimony?”
“Good question,” he replied. “Let’s just say that the subcommittee hearing is going to take me back to my college days.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m going to feel like I’m back in a boxing ring again. The only difference is that up in Congress they allow kidney punches.”