The Inner Circle

56

"You should put the ice on your chin,” Dallas says.

“I don’t need ice,” I say, even though I know I do. My chin’s on fire. But it’s nothing compared to what’s coming. As I nudge the curtain open, I stare outside at a homeless man who’s not a homeless man, from a residential townhouse that’s not really a townhouse, and refuse to face my officemate, who I now understand is far more than just an officemate.

“Beecher, for Wallace to request you-it’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, that makes complete sense. In fact, it’s absolutely obvious why locking me in an impenetrable bulletproof box with the most powerful man in the world-with no witnesses or anything to protect me-is just a perfect peach of an idea.”

“We think he’s going to make you an offer,” he finally says.

“Who is? The President?”

“Why else would he ask for you, Beecher? You have something that was intended for him. So despite Orlando’s death, and the FBI and Secret Service sniffing around the room, Wallace is coming right back to the scene of the crime, and he’s asked for you to personally be there. Alone. In his SCIF. If we’re lucky, when that door slams shut and those magnetic locks click, he’ll start talking.”

“Yeah, or he’ll leave me just like Orlando.”

Dallas shakes his head. “Be real. Presidents don’t get dirt under their nails like that. They just give the orders. And sometimes, they don’t even do that.”

There’s something in the way he says the words. “You don’t think Wallace had a hand in this?” I ask.

“No, I think he very much had a hand in this, but what you keep forgetting is that what you found in that chair isn’t just a book. It’s a communication-and communications take two people.”

“From the President to one of his Plumbers.”

“But not just one of his Plumbers,” Dallas corrects. “One of his Plumbers who works in our building. That’s the key, Beecher. Whoever did this to Orlando… to be able to hide the book in that chair… to have access to the SCIF… it has to be someone on staff-or at the very least, someone with access to that room.”

“To be honest, I thought it was you.”

“Me?” Dallas asks. “Why would it possibly be me?”

“I don’t know. When I saw you in the hallway… when you were with Rina. Then when Gyrich came back to the building, you were the last person in Finding Aids.”

“First, I wasn’t with Rina. We got off the elevator at the same time. Second, I stopped in Finding Aids for two minutes-and only because I was trying to find you.”

I see the way Dallas is looking at me. “You have someone else in mind.”

“I do,” he says. “But I need you to be honest with yourself, Beecher. Just how well do you really know Tot?”