Oath of Office

CHAPTER 7

Agents moved quickly to escort Darlene and Kim to the front of the bar. The tightness in Darlene’s chest refused to abate. Meeting with Evans like this would be juicy fodder for the paparazzi.

Darlene had heard rumors that Evans was going to plead guilty to statutory rape charges in connection to a motel rendezvous with a teenage prostitute. When the news broke, Darlene had sent him a supportive note expressing her hope that an explanation would come clear for the episode, and urging him to put his faith in the justice system. Perhaps, she wondered, he had been unable to take her words to heart, and wanted to position himself for a presidential pardon.

Not only had their lifelong friendship endured, but she had taken a med school elective course in farming and nutrition that he taught. Years later, she was the one to suggest that Martin consider appointing Evans-then an instructor in farming economics-as Secretary of Agriculture. Martin subsequently stood by their friend despite a fair amount of opposition in Congress.

Darlene and Kim followed the agents through a doorway to a narrow stairwell that ascended to the balcony level. At the end of another hallway, they came to a padded vinyl door.

“We’ve already checked the room. It’s safe to go in,” Ochoa said.

Darlene pushed open the door and allowed Kim to enter first. Evans was alone, seated at a low table in the center of a dimly lit, cavelike room. The paneled walls were painted black, and the mood lighting cast deep shadows across Evans’s round face. During the months since Darlene had last seen him, he seemed to have aged years. He stood up somewhat clumsily as the women entered, and Darlene wondered if he might have been drinking. He was a large, usually cheery man with thinning light brown hair, and at this moment, he exuded gloom.

“Darlene. Kim. Thanks for coming up,” he said, extending his meaty hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Russ,” Darlene said, giving him a quick hug in lieu of his proffered handshake. “You look as if you’re holding up okay.”

Evans replied with his trademark deep baritone laugh. “I’ve gained fifteen pounds and am rapidly losing what little hair I had left,” he said. “But I’ll accept the compliment anyway.”

Darlene’s apprehension was replaced with a heavy sadness at seeing the man looking so beaten. Evans had eschewed life on his family’s farm in exchange for a master’s degree and a faculty position at an agricultural college. Before the scandal hit, she had enjoyed meetings in his office, surrounded by framed photographs of America’s farmland.

“Agent Ochoa said you wanted to speak with me. Is it about your case?”

“Please. Have a seat.” Evans pushed closer to the table. “I was at your event today.”

“You were?” Kim asked. “I didn’t see you there.”

Again, that laugh, but this time there was an undisguised tinge of bitterness. “Well, I kept to the background,” Evans said. “Not that it matters.”

“How so?” asked Darlene.

“I guess I’m still surprised how little anyone recognizes the guy who, for two years, was ninth in the presidential succession order. Once you’re not a player in this town, well, you’re not a player-except, of course, to the press corps. Now, those guys still have no problem recognizing me. Scandal sells papers. This morning, though, they were too focused on you to notice me. Everyone knew the president had blown off the event. Not even an appearance by Farmer Pornpone, as the tabloids are calling me, could pull their attention away.”

Darlene reached across the table and cupped Evans’s hands in her own. “You know you have supporters out there, Russ. Not everyone believes the charges against you.”

Evans managed a pale smile of appreciation. “Nice of you to say, Darlene. Unfortunately, whoever paid off the girl gave her enough to keep her lies coming, to say nothing of the impact of the box of kiddie porn that investigators found in the back of my closet.”

“Sorry if I’m out of place,” Kim said, “but what were you doing in that hotel room? We’ve heard all kinds of rumors and-”

Evans held up his hand. “No, don’t be sorry and don’t you worry about it,” he said. “My lawyer asked me to keep my side of the story away from the press until he heard what the U.S. Attorney had against me. Now that we know they’re calling off the prosecution because they can’t find the woman who filed the complaint, I’ll tell anybody who’ll listen-not that it will help get my job back. You see, my son, Derek, has been in trouble since his teens. Drugs and such. I haven’t spoken to him in nearly three years until I got this anonymous phone call telling me he was holed up at a motel just outside of D.C., and that he was in some sort of trouble. I think you know that Derek’s mother and I have been divorced for some time. I decided not to tell her about the call until I knew what was going on.

“I got to the motel as fast as I could and knocked on room twenty-four as the caller had instructed. The door opened up and I found myself alone in a hotel room with a very young, and very naked girl. A hidden camera on a tripod recorded everything. She literally threw herself at me, pushed me backwards onto the bed, and kissed me several times before I could throw her aside.

“I knew it was a setup and a very volatile situation. I probably should have called the police right then and there, but instead, I ran and called my attorney. I had no idea there was a camera hidden in the room. Later I found out the room was registered in a bogus name the day before, and the clerk who was on the desk at the time told the police it probably was me. The girl said she had done business with me before, and that I liked to have her undress me. But this was the first time I had asked to have the camera there. When the police looked at the film cartridge, the part showing me shoving her off and running away was conveniently missing.”

“What about the box of photos in your closet?”

Evans could only shrug and shake his head.

“Sure sounds like a setup to me,” Kim said after a moment’s pause.

“Even if they drop the charges, I’ve lost.” Evans’s voice broke, and for the first time he seemed close to tears.

“Martin was very reluctant to accept your resignation, Russ. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know what you’ve told me, Darlene. And I thank you for that.”

“I don’t get it,” Kim said. “You were the secretary of agriculture. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t see why anyone would go after you.”

Evans nodded as though he’d heard that opinion of his former position before. “As Darlene can tell you, there’s a lot more to our part of the government than just making sure food is safe for eating. The work we do touches the lives of virtually every American. It’s our responsibility to provide a sufficient, safe, nutritious food supply, produced in a sustainable and environmentally supportive way.”

“Doesn’t seem like anybody would want you out of office for that,” Kim said.

“I suppose the frame-up could have had nothing to do with my being the secretary, but there are lot of variables that go into what we do. We’ve got local food producers pushing an agenda counter to what the major growers demand. Environmentalists lobby hard for more sustainability, and we’ve got technological advancements in fertilizer, seeds, and pesticides to keep track of.”

Darlene felt a chill go through her and went rigid in her seat.

Kim noticed and placed a concerned hand on her knee. “You okay?”

To her great dismay, Evans’s explanation of the issues surrounding farming reminded her of her father, only in the darkest days, before financial reversals and unremitting melancholy caused him to press a shotgun up beneath his chin and pull the trigger.

Darlene nodded and took a sip from a glass of water. “I’m fine,” she said, knowing that her friend could tell she wasn’t. “Russ, do you have any idea who might have set you up?”

“Take your pick,” Evans said. “Every decision makes someone a winner and someone a loser.”

“I wish there were something I could do to help,” Darlene said.

“Actually, there is.”

“Name it.”

The former agriculture secretary’s face tightened. “After Martin told me he intended to appoint me head of the USDA, I began developing a legislative agenda for our first term in office. My aides have a series of bills drawn up that I was going to present to the president when … when I resigned. They involve everything from school lunch requirements to the handling of foods containing genetically modified organisms. I don’t have much I’ll be leaving behind, but I would love to see those bills get submitted by the president and passed. I was hoping that because of your and my history and your commitment to kids’ nutrition, you might help that happen.”

“Does the president know about these bills?”

“No. I tried getting them to him, but it was too late. He doesn’t want to hear from me. I’m pretty sure the woman Martin has lined up to replace me has no intention of following through on any of my programs. I’ve got nothing left, Darlene. My friends are bailing on me as if I were septic. My integrity’s been plowed to the roots. These are good, important pieces of legislation. If they go under, my last shred of dignity and purpose goes with them.”

Darlene bit at her lip and tried to keep Evans’s profound sadness from becoming too much her own. “No promises, but have them sent to me,” she said.

The three turned as the door behind them was opened by Victor Ochoa.

“Mrs. Mallory, Ms. Hajjar, I’m sorry for bursting in like this, but there’s been a multiple shooting with deaths in Kings Ridge, Virginia. We feel you should return to the White House until we have more information.”

“Deaths? Do you know how many?” Kim asked.

“It looks like seven. We should know more by the time we get you home.”

Seven people shot to death.

Darlene felt ill. Countless terrible, vivid images began flashing through her mind. She hadn’t ever told anyone except her husband, but as a teen, she had been the one to discover her father’s body.

“You just have to make every day precious,” Kim said as they gathered their things. “’Cause you never know.”