Free The Henderson Equation by Warren Adler

elegant in its casualness
and presided over by Swopes with a boyish charm which masked the ritualization
of the set piece, a tableau arranged around Myra Pell, the Queen Bee who, even
Nick grudgingly admitted, played her role with superb style, with just the
right measure of blue-blooded humility. Conscious of her favor, guests would
bask in the glory of proximity and like obedient supporting players, allow the
Queen the best lines.
    To the practiced observer of the Washington Scene, the
primary action was played out during the game itself, when royalty exhibited
itself in the imperial box as the gladiators performed for the multitude. In
the magnified eyes of the binoculars, one might speculate, draw conclusions,
derive hints of who might be in the running for special favors and, conversely,
who was in decline. Even the late dishonored President had attended, measuring
his power against theirs, concluding, wrongly, it turned out, that he held the
better hand.
    Myra closed the door softly after Henderson and came back to the table where she sipped the dregs of her coffee, holding the
cup with a light, delicate touch in shapely fingers.
    "You could have at least given me fair warning,"
Nick said.
    "You might have talked me out of seeing him."
    "I would have tried."
    "Believe me, Nick, I agonized over it." She
sipped her coffee. "But all's well that ends well. It turned out better
than I thought it would."
    "How did you think it might have gone?" Nick
asked. Did she have it in her head to be a matchmaker?
    "I thought you'd display some of the Gold temper, get
your dander up, become self-righteous. I'm proud of you, Nick."
    He felt her attempts at manipulation and, now that his
guard was up, he listened closely. He felt in himself an echo of Charlie's
anger, the cutting edge of his madness. "The devious bitch," Charlie
had erupted. But was it really deviousness? Her strategy was almost
transparent. Surely she knew that, and had orchestrated this charade as an
oblique confrontation.
    "How else could it have been played?"
    "You could have accused me of deliberately trying to
get you to kill a story."
    "I'll reserve judgment on that."
    "You still don't believe him then?"
    "Do you?"
    "Why do you always answer a question with a
question?"
    "It's my Semitic background."
    "And your newspaperman's natural tendency. Your
cynicism is showing."
    "So is your starry-eyed innocence."
    She smiled thinly at first, then broadly, displaying her
cared-for, even teeth. Like her hands, smooth and tapered, her teeth were
distinguishing characteristics, oddly youthful in her aging face with deepening
crinkles around the eyes.
    "I'm not innocent, Nick," she protested.
"Intuitive perhaps, but not innocent." No, she was not innocent, Nick
thought, remembering Charlie again. She lit a cigarette, puffing deeply.
    "You believe him then?"
    "Yes, I do, Nick. Call it a gut feeling if you won't
go with intuition."
    "Is there a difference?"
    He wondered if there was a romantic interest in Henderson, an errant thought quickly discounted. Myra's sexuality had been sublimated, he
had concluded, long ago, its fury spent, if Charlie's graphic early
descriptions were to be believed, on Charlie.
    "The woman's insatiable," Charlie had told him in
the early days of their marriage, and he had hinted at it during their
courtship. Could it flicker again, Nick thought, recalling the morning with
Jennie? Yes, it was quite possible for love, whatever that was, to intrude,
even in midlife, gathering heat in the ashes. He must watch for signs in Myra. Henderson was certainly attractive, confident in his manhood, ambitious enough to
use that route as a last resort.
    "I believed him," Myra said.
    "He was believable, I'll grant you that. It's his
dominant quality. It's also the trained response of the clandestine service.
Unfortunately, I have facts to contend with."
    "Like what?" Myra asked, a trifle too swiftly, a
brief frown lining her forehead, then disappearing.
    "Allison's