The Garden of Betrayal - Lee Vance [53]
“So, what’s your hypothesis?”
“Simple. This is the kind of data that originates in the intelligence community. Isn’t it a lot more likely that the CIA or the NSA obtained the information in the first place, realized the potential ramifications, and then posted the Select Committee? And that Senator Simpson, who’s running for president, saw an opportunity to pre-position himself as the candidate with the visionary policy?”
“But that would mean—”
“That Simpson leaked the data himself. Exactly. Or, more likely, his pet weasel White. Because otherwise the voters wouldn’t know the senator was such a visionary, would they? And,” he continued, holding up a finger to forestall any interruption, “having decided to leak it, who better to give the information to than someone close to me? That way he’s really killed two birds with one stone. He shows up on Tuesday and hand-sells his energy security scheme to me and my associates, and you waltz in on Wednesday and tell me that he’s right to be concerned. Simpson gets the data into the public domain and locks up big-money support at the same time.”
It was a neat hypothesis, but there was a piece that didn’t track.
“You’re forgetting that the expert was introduced to me by a friend. It’s a big stretch to think Simpson was able to find a pliable expert who happened to know a friend of mine.”
Walter gave me a pitying look.
“Occam’s razor,” he said.
Occam’s razor: Any explanation of a phenomenon should make as few assumptions as possible. I thought about it for a few seconds and felt sick.
“Simpson didn’t find an expert who knew a friend of mine. He found a friend of mine who was willing to lie about knowing an expert.”
“Simpson figured you’d be suspicious. An introduction from a friend gave the expert credibility.”
Between the fatigue and confusion, I felt as though my head were going to explode. Walter’s argument made sense, but the very fact of his putting it forth made it less likely that he was the one who’d asked Alex to lie about knowing Theresa. Which meant that White or Simpson had somehow gotten to Alex? How? In exchange for what? Walter read the emotion on my face and grinned.
“You know the old saying,” he said. “If you want a friend on Wall Street, buy a dog.”
I wasn’t able to muster a smile.
“Well,” he said, getting to his feet. “I think we both know what to do next. I’ll talk to other members of the Senate Select Committee and see what I can learn. Even if we’re right that Simpson leaked the data, it doesn’t necessarily follow that it’s true. It would be an elegant little political trick to release deliberate disinformation, just the sort of thing White might cook up. Any mention of imminent energy shortages in the press would be enough to scare the bejesus out of most Americans, no matter who subsequently denied it. And that alone would work mightily to Simpson’s benefit. You talk to your ‘friend’ and see if you can get him to come clean. Let me know if you need any assistance.”
“What kind of assistance?” I asked dully.
“Fred and Frank. They’re pretty good at finding hidden connections.”
Frick and Frack. They’d hinted to me in the past that they were available for work in the gray zone, trawling vulnerable computer systems for confidential information. Even if I thought they’d keep Alex’s identity secret from Walter, I wasn’t ready to sic them on him.
“I’ll be okay on my own for now.”
“Fine …”
There was a tap on the door. Walter opened it. Amy was standing outside.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but Susan’s looking for you. She needs to speak with you right away.”
He turned his head toward me.
“Come see me tomorrow mid-morning and we’ll compare notes. I’ll have talked to some people by then.”
I nodded, and he left.
“And Reggie wants you to call him on his cell,” Amy continued, addressing herself to me. “He said it was important.”
“Thanks.”
She closed the door as I dialed Reggie’s number.
“Mark?” he said, answering on the first ring. “Where are you?”
“At the office.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes,” I said. “Why?”
“I hate to have to