Capitol Conspiracy

35

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me here, Ben,” President Blake said as they rode the elevator up to the helipad. “I know you’re busy, and this can’t have been convenient.”

“I’m grateful for the meeting,” Ben replied, wondering just how high the elevator could go. There were no floor markings. He imagined that, like Willy Wonka’s glass elevator, it might shoot through the ceiling at any moment. “But…I do think it would be best if we had some privacy.”

“We’ll have privacy up here,” Blake assured him as the elevator bell announced their arrival. “And even if other people were in the vicinity, they wouldn’t be able to hear a word we were saying.”

The doors opened and Ben was immediately assaulted by a sudden burst of noise that was almost deafening, not to mention what felt like hurricane-force winds.

“I know it seems overpowering at first,” the president said, “but believe me, you get used to it.”

Ben doubted he ever would, and he also questioned whether he could possibly discuss the delicate matters he had in mind here. Had Blake done this to him deliberately? Could he know what Ben wanted to ask? Ben didn’t see how it was possible, but the circumstances still seemed suspect.

“There she is,” the president said, gesturing across the helipad. “The president’s personal helicopter. Marine One. You’re probably wondering-why is a vehicle that travels through the air called Marine One? Well, once upon a time, it was the property of the U.S. Marines. So your next question is: Since it isn’t anymore, why don’t they change the name? And the answer to that one is: I have no idea.”

Shielding his eyes from the almost overpowering gusts of wind, Ben gazed across the helipad. He had once ridden in the copter Mike co-owned with some other police officers, but he hadn’t enjoyed it, never hoped to do it again, and still didn’t know anything about them. “Why are there three?”

“Anytime I fly, two other outwardly identical copters fly with me. Decoys. Reduces the chance of a successful strike by a surface-to-air missile.”

“Three-to-one? Still unpleasant odds.”

“Yup. I tried to get the Senate to approve a convoy of ten, but you misers were too cheap.” Blake walked Ben closer to the elegant machines. The engines were already started, thus creating the thunderous noise Ben had heard when he stepped off the elevator. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Sikorsky VH-60Ns. Travel at one hundred fifty knots. Can get you anywhere you want to go in no time at all. Not as luxurious as Air Force One, of course. But damn fast.” He waved to people Ben couldn’t see somewhere overhead. “Snipers. Don’t worry-they’re on my side. And they knew you were coming.” He opened the door to a nearby equipment shed. They stepped inside and Blake closed the door behind them.

“There. That’s a little better.” He glanced at his watch. “Okay, Ben, you have exactly ten minutes before I take off for a secret meeting at an off-site Pentagon installation. What can I do for you?”

Ben knew there was no way to broach this subject gently, so he took a deep drink of air and plunged right in. “Mr. President, in the course of my own…private investigation into the tragedy of April nineteenth, I obtained a copy of your wife’s autopsy report.”

“What? Why?”

Ben continued, hoping that if he moved fast enough, there would be no time for outrage. “The first copy we obtained had been redacted, even though the information eliminated could not possibly pose any threat to national security. Who would have the clout-and the motivation-to get something like that done? The obvious answer, of course, was you.”

“Are you saying-?” Blake did a double take. “What the hell are you saying?”

“The redacted material I later learned revealed-let me apologize in advance, sir. I know this is exceedingly indelicate, but there’s no way to say it except to say it.” Ben took another deep breath; his eyelids fluttered. He felt as if he might faint at any moment. “At the time of your wife’s death, her vagina contained sperm cells.”

Blake gaped at him wordlessly. “What-the-hell-” His nostrils flared. “What business is that of yours?”

“Well, sir, it does raise some questions.”

“About what, you little farm country cluck? Emily and I had been apart for a week. We had a little private time on Air Force One before we drove into Oklahoma City. Why is this any of your business?”

“There’s a problem, sir.”

“You have a problem with me making love to my late wife, who by the way I loved very deeply?”

Ben’s mouth felt dry as stale bread. “No, sir, of course not. But you see-the coroner ran DNA tests. Your wife was carrying sperm-from two different donors.” He felt his knees wobbling, but he plowed forward. “She’d been with two different men. Within the previous eight hours.”

President Blake’s eyes were steely gray. He forced Ben back against the wall of the shed. “What is this about, Kincaid? What are you trying to do to me?”

“The only thing I’m trying to do is…understand.”

“What’s to understand, you little pissant? There was nothing-nothing-” His voice broke, and all at once his face crumbled like the walls of Jericho. “Emily was having an affair.” His voice cracked. “It had been going on for nearly six months. I knew, of course, but I never-never said anything to her about it. I-” He shook his head. Tears sprang to his eyes. “I kept hoping she’d come to me herself. I-I knew we’d been…growing apart. This job-it keeps you so damn busy. Spend all your time worrying about the fate of the world. It’s easy to forget about-about your wife. Until it’s too late.”

Ben stared at the floor, unable to make eye contact. “Do you-know who it was?”

President Blake nodded. “The leader of her Secret Service team. Gatwick. You probably met him in Oklahoma City.”

“I’m sure that was…very difficult for you.”

“You don’t know the half of it. First, there’s the shame. The knowledge that you drove the woman you love into the arms of another man. The knowledge that-you failed as a husband. But the problems are even greater when you’re the president. Something like this-well, it creates a vulnerability. The possibility of blackmail.”

“Someone was blackmailing you? The president?”

“All I’m saying is, it was a concern. Suddenly I found myself in a position where I couldn’t say no. Anything he wanted-well, how could I deny him anything, knowing what would happen to me if he went to the press? He could bring down this entire administration, just at the time when America needs to be strongest.”

“Sir, you told me before that this amendment originated with Homeland Security. Is that why you’re proposing it? Because you have no choice?”

“I never said that,” Blake said, suddenly stiffening. “I believe in this amendment one hundred and ten percent. We need it to keep our people safe. It’s vital to the security of this great nation.”

“But even if that’s true, you don’t have any choice but to support it, do you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kincaid. I want this thing passed-as quickly as possible.”

“Who was the man, sir? Who was he? Was it-?”

“And let me tell you something else, Kincaid. My chief of staff tells me you’re a lot smarter than you act. I hope to God that’s true and that you’ll be able to accept this piece of advice. Don’t cross Homeland Security. Don’t cross anyone behind this amendment. Their eyes are everywhere. Their ears are everywhere.”

“What does that mean?”

President Blake wiped his eyes, then checked his watch again. “I have to catch a copter, Ben. Let me just reiterate: I want this amendment to pass. I’m counting on your support.” He leaned closer, making sure he had Ben’s attention before he finished. “And you need to be careful, Ben. Very careful.”