Veil

20

Robert glanced over and Thorne gave him a nod. He checked Fiona.

An agent stood watch at each end of the stage. Additional agents came inside, some manning the exits, others scattering throughout the room.

The President wouldn’t be far behind. Agent Sams stood just beyond the kitchen entrance with an easy view of the crowd. She’ll be safe for a few moments. Robert looked back at Edward. This is as good a time as any.

“Mr. Veil, I presume,” said Edward, not extending his hand.

“Mr. Rothschild,” answered Robert. He smiled. Hello asshole. How about a bullet in the skull?

Edward folded his hands behind his back. “I’d say this was a real pleasure, but…”

“But we both know that would be a lie.”

“Mr. Veil, is there something I can do for you? I’m quite the busy man you know.”

Robert inched closer. “There’s nothing you can do for me. But there’s quite a bit I intend to do for you.” Edward raised an eyebrow. “I’m all ears.”

“I have several rare artifacts you might be interested in, including an exceptionally maintained rifle, in mint condition, a set of striking, one of a kind, black and white photographs of a former President, bullet fragments, books and papers of extreme historical value, and brain matter. A President’s brain matter. You see, the previous owner’s not with us anymore, but he did take time to document his opinions concerning the pieces, on videotape. The whole thing makes for quite a story, and should prove very valuable, especially to a man like yourself.” Edward bristled, but remained calm. “And exactly what does any of this have to do with me?”

“By itself, nothing,” said Robert, leaning in close to Edward’s ear.

“But as I said, the owner of these artifacts died, but said quite a bit on the record. Assassination, cover-ups and you.” Robert stepped back and gently brushed lint off Edward’s shoulder. His smile widened.

Edward’s eyes stayed on Robert. He leaned forward slightly, never breaking his piercing stare. “Mr. Veil, don’t play over your head.

There’s no upside in it, and someone may pull you from the game.”

“Maybe. But before that happens, I’m going to see one of the players suffer. Him, and his entire family. If I get really lucky, I might get to laugh at a funeral or two.”

“Now Mr. Veil, let’s be reasonable men,” Edward said, with a wicked smile. “Certainly there must be a great deal a man like me can do for a man like you.”

Robert hesitated as a passerby stopped behind him looking for her seat, located her table, and continued walking. “There is something you can do for me,” answered Robert. “In fact, it’s something only you can do.”

Edward’s ears perked up. “And that would be?”

“Go back to your office. Write a nice long letter explaining President Kennedy’s assassination and your role in it. Smoke your favorite cigar, have a glass of wine, your rarest, if you prefer. Pull a gun from your collection. If you don’t own one I’ll be happy to lend you mine. Then open your mouth wide and blow.”

Edward stole a glance at Thorne, then looked up at Judge Patrick.

“You amuse me Mr. Veil. I’ll see if I can find some way to amuse you.”

“That shit doesn’t scare me.”

“I’m not trying to scare you. I mean what I say.” He looked at Fiona again. “You seem quite taken with our Supreme Court nominee. I understand you’re watching over her. Isn’t it ironic how bedfellows can grow out of such trying situations? I understand she has a daughter.”

“I told you. I don’t scare that easy. However, since you’ve made something of it, how’s your son? Does he know about your plans in the Middle East? I understand the President does.” Hatred burst onto Edward’s face. His eyes hardened. “You’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Veil. I must get to my table. I believe the President is due to arrive any second.”

Edward walked toward his table, then stopped. “Oh, and Mr. Veil.

Give my love to your mother. It’s been awhile.” Robert headed back to his station. Okay. Edward Rothschild has to die.