“I see we haven’t gained an inch in the polls.” He didn’t look at her; he anticipated her response.
“Does it really matter so much whether you win by sixty percent or seventy percent?”
He whirled around. “Yes,” he hissed. “Yes, it goddamn does matter.”
She bit her lip and retreated. “I’ll step up the effort, Alan. Maybe we can pull a shutout in the Electoral College.”
“At a minimum, we should be able to do that, Gloria.”
She looked down. After the election, she would travel. Around the world. Where she knew no one and no one knew her. A fresh start. That was what she needed. Then everything would be okay.
“Well at least our little problem is cleared up.” He was looking at her, hands clasped behind his back. Tall, lean, impeccably dressed and groomed. He looked like the commander of an invincible armada. But then again history had proven that invincible armadas were far more vulnerable than people imagined.
“It’s been disposed of?”
“No, Gloria, I have it in my desk, would you like to see it? Perhaps you might wish to abscond with it again.” His air was so thick with condescension she felt the urgent need to bring their consultation to a close. She rose.
“Will there be anything else?”
He shook his head and returned to the window. She had just put her hand on the doorknob when it turned and opened.
“We’ve got a problem.” Bill Burton looked at each of them.
“So what does he want?” The President looked down at the photograph Burton had handed him.
Burton replied quickly. “Note doesn’t say. I can guess that the shape the guy’s in with cops on his ass he’s looking for some quick funds.”
The President looked pointedly at Russell. “I’m very puzzled as to how Jack Graham knew to send the photo here.”
Burton picked up on the look from the President, and while the last thing he wanted was to defend Russell they had no time to misanalyze the situation.
“It’s possible Whitney told him,” Burton answered.
“If that’s true, he waited a long time to dance with us,” the President fired back.
“Whitney may not have told him directly. Graham could’ve figured it out for himself. Pieced things together.”
The President tossed down the photo. Russell quickly averted her eyes. The mere sight of the letter opener had paralyzed her.
“Burton, how could this possibly be damaging to us?” The President stared at him, seemingly probing through the inner areas of the agent’s mind.
Burton sat down, rubbed his jaw with the palm of his hand. “I’ve been thinking about that. It could be Graham’s grasping at straws. He’s in a pretty tight fix himself. And his lady friend is cooling her heels in the lockup right now. I’d chalk it up to him being desperate. He gets a sudden inspiration, puts two and two together and takes a flyer on sending us this, hoping it’s worth it to us to pay his price, whatever it might be.”
The President stood up and fingered his coffee cup. “Is there any way to find him? Quickly?”
“There are always ways. How fast I don’t know.”
“So if we ignore his communication?”
“He may do nothing, just hightail it and take his chances.”
“But again we’re confronted with the possibility of the police catching up to him—”
“And him spilling his guts,” Burton finished the sentence. “Yeah, that’s a possibility. A real possibility.”
The President picked up the photo. “With only this to back up his story.” He looked incredulous. “Why bother?”
“It’s not the incriminating value of what’s in the photo per se that bothers me.”
“What bothers you is that his accusations coupled with whatever ideas or leads the police can develop from the photo might make for some very uncomfortable questions.”
“Something like that. Remember, it’s the allegations that can kill you. You’re up for reelection. He probably sees that as an ace for him. Bad press can be just as deadly to you right now.”
The President pondered for a moment. Nothing, no one would interfere with his reelection. “Buying him off is no good, Burton. You know that. So long as Graham’s around, he’s dangerous.” Richmond looked over at Russell, who had sat the entire time, hands in her lap, eyes pointed down. His eyes bored into her. So weak.
The President sat down at his desk and started to sift through some papers. He said dismissively, “Do it, Burton, and do it soon.”
Frank looked at the wall clock, went over and shut his door and picked up the phone. His head still ached, but the doctors predicted a full recovery.
The phone was answered. “D.C. Executive Inn.”
“Room 233 please.”
“Just a moment.”
The seconds dragged by and Frank started to get anxious. Jack was supposed to be in his room.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“So how’s life?”
“Better than yours, I bet.”
“How’s Kate?”
“She’s out on bail. Got ’em to let her go into my custody.”
“I’m sure she’s thrilled.”
“That wasn’t the word I was thinking of. Look, it’s getting close to shit-or-get-off-the-pot time. Take my advice and run like hell. You’re wasting valuable time right now.”
“But Kate—”
“Come on, Jack, they’ve got the testimony of one guy who was trying to hit her up for an exclusive. His word against hers. Nobody else even saw you. It’s a slam dunk she’ll beat that charge. A slam dunk. I’ve talked to the Assistant U.S. Attorney. He’s looking seriously at dropping the whole case.”
“I don’t know.”
“Goddammit, Jack. Kate is gonna come out of this a whole helluva lot better than you are if you don’t start thinking about your future. You’ve got to get out of here. That’s not just me talking. That’s her too.”
“Kate?”
“I saw her today. We don’t agree on much, but on that we do.”
Jack relaxed, then let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, so where do I go and how do I get there?”
“I get off duty at nine. At ten o’clock I’ll be at your room. Have your bags packed. I’ll take care of the rest. In the meantime, stay put.”
Frank hung up the phone and took a deep breath. The chances he was taking. It was better not to think about them.
Jack checked his watch and looked at the single bag on the bed. He wouldn’t be running with much. He looked at the TV set in the corner but there wouldn’t be anything on he cared to watch. Suddenly thirsty, he pulled some change from his pocket, opened the door to his room and peered out. The drink machine was just down the hallway. He plopped on his baseball cap, donned his Coke-bottle glasses and slipped out. He didn’t hear the door to the stairwell at the other end of the hallway open. He had also forgotten to lock his door.
When he slipped back in, it struck him that the light was off. He had left it on. As his hand hit the switch, the door was slammed shut behind him and he was thrown onto the bed. As he quickly rolled over and his eyes adjusted to the light, the two men came into focus. They were not wearing masks this time, which spoke volumes in itself.
Jack started to lunge forward but twin cannons met him halfway. He sat back down, scrutinized each of their faces.
“What a coincidence, I’ve already made each of your acquaintance, separately.” He pointed at Collin. “You tried to blow my head off.” He swiveled to Burton. “And you tried to blow smoke up my ass. And succeeded. Burton right? Bill Burton. Always remember names.” He looked at Collin. “Didn’t catch yours though.”