Capitol Conspiracy

44

Ben had been quiet all the way down Memorial Drive, from the Lincoln Memorial, across the Potomac, and through the portico that capped the main entrance to the cemetery. It seemed appropriate, not only because this was a somber occasion, but also because he felt chastened and subdued by the fact that another public servant had fallen to this never-ending wave of terrorism. Not to mention the knowledge that he was almost the next victim.

As the driver approached the destination, Ben marveled at the stoic majesty of this most famous of cemeteries. The green hills were lined with row after row of what appeared at a distance to be identical white grave markers stretching off into infinity. They passed the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and, shortly after that, the Eternal Flame that marked JFK’s burial site. Ben had not even been born when JFK was slain, but that president’s legacy of hope and vision still had a special meaning for him.

Arlington was a military cemetery, but as Ben knew from his morning briefing, there were a few exceptions, a few special individuals of national import who had been buried here even though they were not military casualties or even veterans. Pierre Charles L’Enfant, the architect who laid the design for Washington, D.C., was buried here. Four Supreme Court justices, Thurgood Marshall, William O. Douglas, Potter Stewart, and Harry Blackmun, were buried here. Two Capitol Police officers, John Gibson and Jacob Chestnut, who died in the line of duty, were interred at Arlington. And the ashes of Marie Teresa Rios Versace, author of The Fifteenth Pelican, which became the basis for The Flying Nun television show, were scattered here. Ben wasn’t entirely sure how that one fit in, but it must’ve seemed like a good idea at the time.

More recently, Arlington had served as a final resting place for many people who died as a result of terrorist attacks. Julian and Jay Bartley, killed in an attack on the U.S. Embassy in Nairobi. Dana Falkenberg, killed in the 9/11 attack on the Pentagon. Michael Hammer, murdered by guerrilla fighters in El Salvador. The Secret Service agents who died in the attack on April 19 shared a tomb, not even fully completed yet. Senator Hammond had been buried here. And now the government and his family jointly had decided that Senator DeMouy should be buried at Arlington.

As Ben stepped out of the car, he saw a wide array of people had come to pay their respects. President Blake was here; he was scheduled to deliver the primary eulogy. Even though he would not specifically refer to the proposed constitutional amendment, his presence at the funeral of yet another victim of terrorism was sure to make a statement. He stood at the head of the grave site with his chief of staff, Tracy Sobel, and the senator’s widow, Belinda DeMouy. Ben also spotted Homeland Security Director Carl Lehman with his deputy director Nichole Muldoon.

Ben walked slowly to the head of the gravesite. He knew the Secret Service would want time to identify and clear him before he got anywhere near the president. He approached the grieving widow and introduced himself.

Belinda DeMouy was dressed in a solid black dress. Despite the veil over her face, Ben could see that her young face was streaked and red from crying.

“Let me offer my most sincere condolences,” Ben said, pressing her hand between both of his. “I’d only known and worked with your husband for a short while, but I could see he was a great man with a good heart.” Ben smiled a little. “Even if he was a Republican.”

“He was a good man,” she repeated softly. Her watery eyes looked as if they might spill over at any moment. “And a good husband. He cared about people. Genuinely cared about them.”

“I could tell that.”

“And then to have him taken away so suddenly and in such-such a horrible way.” Belinda’s hand shot up beneath her veil, covering her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Ben said. “This is a tragedy. Tragedy on tragedy.”

“But-but at least you were spared,” she said, still holding Ben’s hand. “I take some comfort in knowing that the murderer didn’t get everything he wanted. That someone will carry on my Jeff’s work.”

“I was just lucky,” Ben replied softly. “I happened to remember to use the gloves.”

“Thank God. Your envelope was laced with the poison, wasn’t it?” “It was. As I said, I was very lucky. If there’s anything I can do for you, Mrs. DeMouy, now or at any other time, please let me know.”

“Thank you. I-I would like to know, from time to time, if it’s not too much trouble-”

“It isn’t.”

“I’d like to know how the work on the amendment is progressing. It was Jeff’s final crusade, and-well, I just want to know it’s in good hands. I want it to be remembered as part of Jeff’s lifetime of service.”

“I’m sure it will be.” There were others waiting to speak to her. Ben released her hand and sidled down what had become an informal reception line.

Tracy Sobel was the next person he greeted. “I’m glad you and the president could be here today.”

“So am I,” Sobel replied. Ben noted that her face was remarkably free of sorrow. “Do you realize that all the major networks are going to interrupt their programming to carry the president’s eulogy?”

“That’s…lovely.”

“Are you kidding? That’s goddamn fantastic. The president could hold a prime time address and not be guaranteed The Big Three. This is a coup of major proportions.”

Ben felt his irritation growing. He tried to contain it. “I’m…sure the president has no intention of exploiting this national tragedy.”

“Of course not. That’s my job.” She leaned closer to Ben and whispered, “This will be a major victory for proponents of the amendment.”

“I’m sure you’re happy about that.”

Did Ben imagine it, or did Sobel stiffen slightly? “The president will be happy. And that’s my job. Keeping the president happy.”

After the minister in charge read the religious service, several others were given an opportunity to speak. Senator Scolieri, who had known DeMouy since they were Senate pages together forty years ago, told several amusing anecdotes of their youthful antics. Senator Bening of Colorado talked about DeMouy’s legislative legacy. Bening’s chief of staff, Joe Conrad, spoke of his great and abiding love for DeMouy and his lovely young wife, Belinda. They heard from a few friends and relatives outside the world of politics. Then, finally, it was time for the president to speak.

“I know this is a time of sadness for those who knew Jeff DeMouy, and even for those who did not. This is a time of sadness for all Americans, all peoples around the globe who believe in the right to work without the fear of terrorism. I had the privilege of working with Jeff on many occasions. Sometimes we agreed, sometimes we didn’t. But I always valued his opinion. He was one of the special few you could count on in a crisis. He would do the difficult tasks even when his plate was already full. He would take the unpopular chores, regardless of the consequences, when he knew it was the right thing to do. He was a great American, and so it is appropriate that his final resting place be here, where he can spend the rest of eternity surrounded by the best and the brightest America has ever known.”

President Blake made what Ben now recognized as the familiar shift from Camera A to Camera B, then continued.

“Some people have asked me what I think Senator DeMouy’s legacy will be. The simple truth is-I don’t know. But I can tell you what I hope it will be. I hope he will be remembered as the last great American who fell at the hands of terrorists. I hope that we as a nation will not allow his death to be meaningless, but rather, will see it as a turning point in the way we think. I hope that this will be the moment when we rise up as one nation and say: No more. We will not allow the lives of our leaders, friends, innocent citizens, and even children to be taken in the pursuit of someone else’s political agenda. We Americans have always been strong, and now we will be even stronger. We will fight the good fight, as the Good Book tells us to do. We will take whatever actions are necessary to make sure that Senator DeMouy has not died in vain.”

Very well said, Ben thought. He came about as close to campaigning for the amendment without specifically mentioning it as was humanly possible. A stratagem employed by numerous successful leaders throughout the history of the world.

After the president concluded, Ben felt a tapping on his shoulder. He turned and saw a man he recognized. Even if he wasn’t wearing the standard sunglasses and suit, he knew this man was a Secret Service agent. Agent…

“Zimmer,” the young man said. “We spoke at…well, you know. On April nineteenth. In Oklahoma City.”

“I remember,” Ben said quietly.

“Could I possibly have a minute of your time?” Zimmer asked. “It’s important.”

“Of course.” The crowd was dispersing anyway. Ben followed Agent Zimmer to a quiet nook a few hundred feet to the north.

“What’s this about?” Ben asked.

“It’s about April nineteenth,” Zimmer replied. “And it’s about a colleague of mine. Special Agent Gatwick. You know him?”

“I met him on April nineteenth,” Ben answered. And he remembered what the president had told him about Agent Gatwick as well. About Gatwick and the late first lady.

“Do you realize what he did?”

Ben hesitated. He was surprised that the word was out, but he supposed that inflammatory secrets of this nature were hard to keep under wraps. “I’ve been told.”

“By whom?”

“I’m not sure I should say.”

Zimmer eyed him carefully. “Are we talking about the same thing? Because what I’m talking about-I think there are only two people on earth who know, other than Gatwick himself.”

“You’re talking about…the affair.”

“No. I’m talking about Gatwick’s actions on April nineteenth. Regarding the first lady.”

With whom, if Ben understood the autopsy report correctly, he’d had sex less than eight hours before. “What did he do?”

“He altered the protocol. On his own self-assumed authority.”

Ben’s forehead creased. “I’m not really following…”

“Gatwick moved the first lady from where she should have been to where she was when the shooting started. On the other side of the raised platform. By you.”

“Yes, I remember that.”

“As a result, I was the only Secret Service agent anywhere near her. There should have been five agents in the immediate vicinity, but instead, there was only one. Me.” His voice choked a bit. “And I couldn’t save her.”

Ben reached out to him. “You couldn’t possibly have saved her alone. The bullets came too fast. I remember.” He touched the still swollen scar on his cheek. “It’s a miracle I made it out. And I’m hardly the target the first lady was.”

“Yes, but the president made it off the stage, didn’t he? Because he was where the agents were. And if Emily Blake had been beside him, as she should have been, I believe she would be alive today.”

“So…are you saying that Agent Gatwick acted erroneously? Incompetently?”

Zimmer stared directly into Ben’s eyes. “At the very least.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting-”

“All I know is that his actions allowed a tragedy to occur that has shocked the nation right out of its senses.”

Ben blinked. “Don’t you support the amendment?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I thought the whole law enforcement community-”

“You were wrong. We shouldn’t be rushing around trying to rewrite the Constitution. We should be trying to find out what really happened.”

“You sound like my chief of staff. But you know the government is investigating.”

“I’m not. The Secret Service was taken out of the loop.”

“There were reasons-”

“There are always reasons, Senator Kincaid. Or excuses. But at some point, when there are too many excuses and not enough rational thought, you have to sit up and wonder-what the hell is going on? What’s really happening here?” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Before it’s too late.”