Capitol Conspiracy

46

D irector Lehman stared out the window of his limousine, his eyes hidden by dark black sunglasses.

“Zimmer’s talking to Kincaid,” he announced.

If he had expected this revelation to provoke a dramatic response, he was sorely disappointed. Silence prevailed in the backseat.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard,” Nichole Muldoon said. “And as your deputy director let me say this: Who cares?”

“Kincaid’s the president’s point man on the amendment. The main man, now that DeMouy’s gone.”

“And again I say: Who cares?”

“Zimmer’s obviously trying to pollute the stream. Screw up the passage of the amendment.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied. She opened the side cabinet, checking to see if the brandy snifter was filled. It wasn’t. “They could be talking about anything. Zimmer could be expressing his regrets that Kincaid lost his close comrade.”

“No way. Zimmer’s against the amendment.”

“Is that a crime now?” Muldoon asked, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“No, but it should be.” Lehman continued staring as the limo pulled away from the gravesite. “Damn. I hate having this thing left in the hands of that cluck from Oklahoma. DeMouy, I trusted. I’ve worked with him for a long time. I knew him well.”

“I knew him pretty well myself,” Muldoon replied. “But that doesn’t mean Kincaid can’t get the job done. Look what he accomplished at the subcommittee hearing.”

“Yeah, but that sob sister stuff won’t work twice. The opposition will be ready for it. He’ll have to connect with their brains and their pollsters, not just their guilt.”

“Well, maybe DeMouy taught him a few tricks before he kicked off,” Muldoon said dryly. “He certainly had lots of them.”

Lehman slowly removed his shades. “You know, Nichole-I’m not entirely sure you’re taking this matter as seriously as you should.”

“You mean, as seriously as you want me to.”

“I mean, I’m your boss and I want this damn thing passed.”

“Really? At the press conference you said it was important that you remain out of the advocacy process.”

He gave her a withering look. “This isn’t some damn press conference trumped up to appease the president. This is me, the boss, talking to you, the underling. And me, the boss, is sick of feeling that you’re not pitching for the right team.”

“Carl, you know I’ve always done my job well. Better than anyone else you’ve ever worked with. But you can’t force me to support a law that I don’t, that I think is an extremely dangerous, bad idea.”

“How can you say that? Did you not see the expression on the face of DeMouy’s poor grieving widow? How long are you willing to let the terrorists walk all over us?”

Muldoon unbuttoned the top of her blouse and fanned herself. “Is the air conditioner on? Are you as hot as I am?”

“Don’t even think about trying that sexpot crap. That might work on some pansy-ass FBI guy like Joel Salter, but it will not work on me. Answer the question. How long are you willing to let the terrorists take potshots at our senators?”

“Actually,” she said, ignoring the suggestion regarding her sexuality, “I’m not convinced this had anything to do with terrorists. Or political advocacy of any sort.”

“What are you talking about? What else could it be?”

“There are a million things it could be. And I see no evidence that it’s terrorists. That’s just a conclusion everyone is jumping to. A conclusion that is very convenient for your cause, I might add.”

Lehman gave her a look that could chill Hades. “Muldoon-I am getting very concerned here.”

“Does that mean you want me to undo another button?”

“No. It means I can’t work with someone who opposes my directives.”

“I have never opposed your directives. I have always done everything you wanted done, with great efficiency and effectiveness. That’s why I’m the deputy director.”

“A fact that could change very quickly.”

Now Muldoon was the one conveying the harsh look. “You can’t fire me because I don’t share your political views.”

“No, I would have to come up with some other excuse. But I can fire you. And I will. If you don’t stay quiet and stay out of the way.” His voice dropped. “I don’t like obstacles.”

“I would never do anything that stupid. I’m a career girl, you know. Career comes before politics. Or anything else.”

Lehman gave her a long look, then sighed. “Yes, that part I believe. Just remember-I will not tolerate obstacles. I want no trouble-not from you or Special Agent Zimmer.” His eyes narrowed. “Or Senator Benjamin Kincaid. I want you to keep a very close watch on him and report anything that might indicate he’s not the staunchest advocate this amendment could have. Because if I get any sense he’s wavering-he will have to be dealt with. Immediately.”

“Dealt with?” Muldoon asked.

“You heard me. And you know what I mean.” He paused. “I can think of a lot of approaches more direct than incriminating photos or a poison envelope.”

At the opposite end of the cemetery, a newly minted Cadillac One was motoring the President of the United States back to the White House. But the president was not traveling alone.

Special Agent Gatwick had often ridden in Cadillac One, usually when it was transporting the late first lady. Sitting in the front passenger seat, riding shotgun-literally-watching in all directions for any possible threats. But today was different. This was the first time he had ever ridden in the back of the car with the president. At the president’s request.

“Thank you for joining me, Tom. Is it all right if I call you Tom?”

“Whatever you like, Mr. President.” Gatwick was nervous, and not just because he was riding in an unaccustomed seat.

“Something to drink?” The president opened a side cabinet and withdrew a brandy snifter. It was full. “I’m having one. Just a little one. It’s early yet.”

“Nothing for me, sir. Thank you,” Gatwick replied, although he would dearly love a drink right now. Anything to settle his nerves.

The president poured a drink, then downed it in a single gulp. “Excellent. Imported, you know. Perhaps I can manage one more. Sure you won’t have anything? You seem a little…on edge. Might help.”

“I’m sure.” Was it Gatwick’s fevered imagination, he wondered, or was Blake deliberately playing with him? Either way, it was giving him a serious case of the creeps.

“I thought the two of us should meet,” the president said, stretching expansively across the car seat. “I mean, I know we’ve run into each other on occasion, when you were on duty. But I thought we should have a chance just to…talk. In private.”

“Why is that, Mr. President?”

Blake looked at him as one might look at a small child whose attempts at dissembling are so pathetic as to draw a smile. “Tom, let’s not play games. I know. What’s more-I think you know I know.”

Gatwick looked at his knees and said nothing.

“Emily was a wonderful woman, wasn’t she?”

Gatwick remained silent.

“Wonderful, indeed. So full of energy. So warmhearted. So…loyal.”

The president paused, but Gatwick didn’t take the bait.

“Tom,” the president said, as casually as if he were ordering ice cream, “why were you fucking my wife?”

“Mr. President, I never meant-”

“Oh, please spare me the excuses. We’re both grown-ups. So was Emily. These things don’t happen by accident. They happen because the participants want them to happen.” He stopped for a moment, as if realizing that by interrupting his companion he had stifled the conversation. “Did she give a reason? Or was she just…overwhelmed by your masculine good looks? Because frankly, I’ve been watching you for a long time, and I’m considerably less than overwhelmed. If she’d taken a shot at Brad Pitt-well, who wouldn’t? But you?” Blake shrugged. “It’s kind of insulting, really.”

Gatwick spoke quietly. “She said she was lonely. That you were always busy.”

Blake nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s what I imagined she would say.”

“And she said that you were having…problems. In the bedroom.”

“Well, she hardly needed to add that.” He stared out the window, watching the landmarks of Memorial Drive pass by. “It’s hard being the leader of the free world.”

“I would imagine so.”

“So many people depend on you. So much rests upon your shoulders. It should hardly be surprising if a man suffering under that kind of stress occasionally has…issues.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t patronize me. You took advantage of the situation to put cuckold horns on my head. You’re a sorry son of a bitch.”

“As you say, sir.”

“And I want your resignation.”

Gatwick’s head rose. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m your boss, remember?”

“Carl Lehman is-”

“I’m the commander in chief, Tom.”

“I’m not in the military.”

“If I want you out-you’re out.”

“I won’t resign.”

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

Gatwick drew in his breath. “You have no direct authority over me.”

“You’re not listening to me, Tom. I’m the president. Your job is to protect the executive branch. How long do you think you’ll last if I don’t want you around? I don’t even need a pretext. I know for a fact that some people in your own office think your protocol changes on April nineteenth resulted in the death of my wife. All I have to do is make a phone call.”

Gatwick’s lips tightened. “You can’t fire me.”

“I would prefer it if you resigned. It would look better.”

“Then let me put it differently. You don’t want to.”

The president slowly drew himself in. “Do I understand this correctly? Are you threatening me?”

“Weren’t you just threatening me?”

“I was managing my branch of the government. That’s my job.”

“Well, I like my job, too. And I intend to keep it.”

“If Carl Lehman knew what you’ve done-”

Gatwick cut him off with a laugh. It seemed he had no choice but to be an enemy of the president. Very well, then. In for a penny, in for a pound. “You won’t rat me out. If I lose my job, I go public.”

“You think that will help you get reemployed?”

“I think that’s a revelation you don’t want in the public forum. It could ruin you.”

“Like hell. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“If the truth came out about your late wife’s hanky-panky, it would, first, make you look like a weak-kneed loser, and second, make your late wife considerably less sympathetic in the public eye. You’re counting on that sympathy to get your amendment passed. And probably to get yourself reelected.”

“Public opinion is already wildly in my favor. On both counts.”

“Because you’re a bereaved husband who lost a wife who had a huge approval rating. If it turns out you’re a-what was your word?cuckold, and she was a tramp-”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I didn’t start this, Mr. President. But I’m not going to sit around and let you walk all over me. If you hadn’t been such a crappy husband, it wouldn’t have occurred in the first place.”

“You twisted sick-”

“Maybe I am partly to blame, and maybe she is. Maybe no one is. But I won’t let you take my job from me. Especially not now.”

“Why not now?”

“Never mind. This is a critical time for both of us. We want to continue to get our jobs done.” He looked the president straight in the eye. “So you leave me alone and let me get my work done, Mr. President. And I’ll leave you alone and let you do yours.”