No reply.

I glanced over and Bian was staring out the window in a sort of sulky trance. I suppose this was all a little overwhelming for her-the love of her life in a war zone, a politically hazardous murder case on her hands, and me. I can be annoying.

"Are you okay?"

She continued to stare out the window.

I don't like talking to myself, and we drove without speaking for a few minutes. It was almost six o'clock, and the sky had already turned dark, the wind was whipping the trees, and a gusty, gloomy squall was moving in-a typical late October day in the moody, blustery city of Washington, D.C.

Out of the blue, she informed me, "I really want to break this case."

"Think like a cop, Bian. It's not personal." After a moment, I advised her, "What you should be hoping is to make it through this with your career intact."

"What does that mean?"

"Think Oliver North and Bud McFarlane."

"Who?"

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-one. What's your point?"

"The Iran-Contra scandal?"

"Nope-never heard of it."

"Ronald Reagan?"

"Was he the guy before Lincoln, or just after?" She nudged me in the ribs. "Okay, tell me about… who were these two again?"

"Ollie and Bud. Bud was a former lieutenant colonel who became President Reagan's National Security Advisor. Ollie was a serving lieutenant colonel on his staff."

She noted, "You should always keep a close eye on lieutenant colonels."

"I just pinned on a few days ago."

"Oh. Then… congratulations. How's it feel?"

"Not bad. They say it takes a full year before it sinks in that they're paying you more to act stupider. I'm still getting used to it."

"Well… you seem to be off to a good start." She laughed. "Back to your story."

"Not a story. It's a D.C. passion tale. Ollie and Bud-good guys, well-intentioned, patriotic, salt-of-the-earth types. There was a law at the time banning our government from sending money or weapons to the Contra rebels who were battling the communist government in Nicaragua. On the other side of the world, the Iranians and their Hezbollah pals in Lebanon were kidnapping American officials and torturing them to death."

"That last thing, that sounds ugly."

I nodded and continued, "Among others, one hostage was CIA, another a Marine officer. Our official diplomatic response was summed up as-problem too hard, tough shit."

"And how were these two events connected?"

"They weren't. Not until Ollie talked Bud into a plan to kill two birds with one stone. Under the table, we would sell weapons and ammunition from our military stocks to Iran for their war against Iraq. These munitions would be sold at bargain basement prices, the Great Satan's image in Iran would gain a little luster… with a sub-rosa understanding that the Iranians would release the hostages. To come full circle, the cash from these arms sales would go straight to the Contras, who would use it to buy arms and supplies to kill more commies. Symmetry, right?"

I looked at her to be sure she understood. Apparently so, because she remarked, "That sounds like a really stupid idea."

"Why?"

"Where do I start? Because you can't trust Iranians, for one thing. And if you think about it, you're offering them an incentive to take more hostages so they can blackmail you for more arms. Because it sounds like you're talking many tons of equipment and hundreds of millions of dollars. Because this means complicated logistics, middlemen, and money-laundering."

"All of the above. Anything else?"

"Those are difficult, maybe impossible, things to disguise or hide. Lots of loose ends, lots of people involved, lots of moving parts that could spring a leak."

"But if it worked, nobody would be the wiser. Our hostages would be saved, and the Contras would kill more commies. What's not to like?"

"It was breaking the law."

"A slight technicality."

"I believe it's called theft of government property and criminal conspiracy. That's a ten-to-twenty technicality."

"Very good." I explained, "And yes, it did leak, and yes, the scandal nearly brought down Reagan's house."

"I'm sorry, does this have something to do with Daniels, Hirschfield, or Tigerman?"

"Bear with me."

"I'm trying." She added, "But you're very trying."

Indeed, I am. I explained, "Ollie and Bud were both very ambitious types, but in their hearts, and in their minds I think, the ends were noble and the means were justified. When they were caught, they were forced to resign. They're still testifying at congressional investigating committees."

"Am I now seeing the connection to Daniels?"

"If you're paying attention…"

"Well… spell it out for me."

"Bud and Ollie were two fairly average guys, over their heads in very important jobs, in a very complicated and treacherous world."

"I see."

"A lot of other senior officials were implicated, including the Secretaries of Defense and State. Several senior officials were forced to resign. A few were led off in handcuffs."

She shifted around in her seat. "You're implying that perhaps that scandal is a parable or a parallel for this case?"

I said nothing.

"You think this case goes that high? Spreads that wide?"

"I have no idea-yet."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Consider what we just heard from Theresa Daniels about what Cliff has been doing over the past decade, and whom he has been doing it with." I continued, "He may have been operating with permission, or even with orders, from his bosses-and from their bosses-including people in the White House. These things always begin small-like that Watergate security guard performing his nightly rounds and finding a piece of burglar's tape stuck on a door lock. At that moment in time, he had no idea he had the President of the United States by the balls." I looked her in the eye. "We know that Clifford was a subject in an espionage investigation, and we now know that, for many years, he was connected at the hip to two senior Defense officials. My instincts are telling me this is much bigger than just Clifford, and probably much wider."

She replied, "We don't know that he broke any law."

"He did."

"How do you know that?"

I looked at her. "I want to be sure you know what we're getting into."

"I do know."

"Do you? Because, should there be other people with their hands in the same cookie jar, once we walk into Hirschfield's or Tigerman's office, the shit could hit the fan. After that, there's no turning back."

"Well… how far are you from retirement?"

"Your problem's bigger than mine. I at least have a boss who might run a little interference for me." Or might not.

"I'm an Asian-American woman with a military academy degree, and fluency in three languages. Corporate quota hunters have sticky dreams about people like me. You, on the other hand, are an average white male with a law degree." She smiled. "Worry about yourself."

"I love America."

We lapsed back into thoughtful silence. I pulled into North Parking at the Pentagon. It was 6:15, well into happy hour, and I had no trouble finding a parking space close to the building. I turned off the ignition, and we got out and began our trek up the long walkway.

"As a matter of interest," Bian asked as we walked, "Ollie and Bud? What happened to them?"

"Ollie was slick and managed to spin it to become a hero to conservatives. He was canonized, the good Marine doing his best for the nation he adores. It helped that it was heartfelt, I think. So he got the usual raw deal accorded to disgraced officials: a radio show and a fortune from books and the speech circuit."

"And Bud?"

"Yes, Bud. He went home one night and ate a bottle of pills." I allowed her a moment to think about that, then said, "Happy ending. He was discovered before it was too late. The point is, in Washington even well-intended people can do bad things."