The President looked over at Brimmer, who met his gaze and sternly nodded. There was a cold look in the lawman’s eyes that told exactly how he felt about the Chief Executive.
“I’m the President of the United States. You can’t serve me with anything unless it’s coffee. Now get out.” The President turned to go back to his chair.
“Technically that may be true. However, I don’t really care. Once the impeachment process is complete you won’t be President Alan Richmond, you’ll just be Alan Richmond. And when that happens I’ll be back. Count on it.”
The President turned back around, his face bloodless. “Impeachment?”
Frank moved forward until he was eye-to-eye with the man. On any other occasion this would have triggered prompt action on the part of the Secret Service. Now, they simply stood motionless. It was impossible to tell that each one of them was inwardly reeling over the loss of a respected colleague. Johnson and Varney seethed at having been duped as to the events of that night at the Sullivan estate. And the man they blamed for it all was now crumpling in front of them.
Frank said, “Let’s cut through the bullshit. We already have Tim Collin and Gloria Russell in custody. They’ve both waived right to counsel and each has given detailed depositions regarding all of the events involving the homicides of Christine Sullivan, Luther Whitney, Walter Sullivan and the two killings at Patton, Shaw. I believe they’ve already cut deals with the prosecutors, who are really only interested in you anyway. This case is a real career-builder for a prosecutor, let me tell you.”
The President staggered back a step, then righted himself.
Frank opened the briefcase and pulled out a videotape and five audiocassette tapes. “I’m sure your counsel will be interested to see these. The video is of Agents Burton and Collin when they attempted to murder Jack Graham. The tapes are of several meetings at which you were present and at which the plannings for the various crimes took place. Over six hours of testimony, Mr. President. Copies have been delivered to the Hill, the FBI, CIA, the Post, the Attorney General, White House counsel and anybody else I could think of — and no gaps on the tapes. Also included is the tape Walter Sullivan made of your telephone conversation on the night of his murder. It doesn’t exactly coincide with the version you gave me. All compliments of Bill Burton. Said in his note he was cashing in his insurance policy.”
“And where is Burton?” The President’s voice was filled with rage.
“He was pronounced DOA at Fairfax Hospital at ten-thirty this morning. Self-inflicted gunshot wound.”
Richmond barely made it to his chair. No one offered to assist him. He looked up at Frank.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Burton left behind one other paper. It’s his proxy. For the next election. Sorry, but it seems you didn’t get his vote.”
One by one the Cabinet members got up and left. Fear of political suicide by association was alive and well in the Capital City. The lawmen and Secret Service agents followed. Only the President remained. His eyes stared blankly at the wall.
Seth Frank popped his head back in the door.
“Remember, be seeing you soon.” He quietly closed the door.
Epilogue
the seasons of Washington followed a familiar pattern, and a bare week of spring with tolerable temperatures and humidity under fifty percent gave way abruptly to a meteoric thermometer and a humidity level that routinely delivered a full body shower whenever you walked outside. By July, the typical Washingtonian had adapted as much as they were ever going to, to air that was difficult to breathe and movements that were never slow enough to prevent a sudden burst of perspiration under one’s clothing. But in all of that misery, the occasional evening was not ruined by the sudden materialization of a whipping, drenching thunderstorm with multiple branches of lightning that threatened to touch the earth with every explosion. Where the breeze was cool, the air sweet-smelling and the sky clear. Tonight was just such a night.
Jack sat on the edge of the pool set up on the building’s roof. His khaki shorts revealed muscled, tanned legs, hairs curled by the sun. He was even leaner than before, all remnants of office-induced flab banished by months of physical exertion. Cords of well-toned muscle sat just beneath the surface of his white T-shirt. His hair was short, his face as brown as his legs. The water swished between his bare toes. He looked at the sky and breathed deeply. The place had been packed a mere three hours ago as office dwellers dragged tan-free, fleshy bodies to the replenishing powers of the warm waters. Now Jack sat alone. No bed beckoned him. No ringing alarm would disturb his sleep the next morning.
The door to the pool opened with a slight squeak. Jack turned and saw the beige summer suit, wrinkled and uncomfortable-looking. The man carried a brown paper bag.
“Building super told me you were back.” Seth Frank smiled. “Mind some company?”
“Not if you’ve got what I think you’ve got in that bag.”
Frank sat down in a web chair and tossed a beer to Jack. They dinked cans and each man took a long pull.
Frank looked around. “So how was wherever you were?”
“Not bad. It was good to get away. But it’s also good to be back.”
“This looks like a nice place to meditate.”
“It gets crowded around seven for a couple of hours. Most of the other time it’s pretty much like this.”
Frank looked wistfully at the pool and then started to take off his shoes. “You mind?”
“Help yourself.”
Frank rolled up his pants, curled his socks into his shoes and sat down next to Jack, letting his milky-white legs sink into the water up to his knees.
“Damn that feels good. County detectives with three daughters and a mortgage out the ying-yang rarely come into contact with swimming pools.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Frank rubbed his calves and looked at his friend. “Hey, being a bum agrees with you. You might want to think about sticking with it.”
“I am thinking about it. The idea gets more appealing every day.”
Frank eyed the envelope next to Jack.
“Important?” He pointed at the paper.
Jack picked it up, briefly reread the contents. “Ransome Baldwin. Remember him?”
Frank nodded. “What, has he decided to sue you for dumping his baby?”
Jack shook his head and smiled. He finished his beer and fished in the bag and pulled out another cold one. He tossed a second one to Frank.
“You never know, I guess. The guy basically said I was too good for Jennifer. At least for right now. That she had a lot of growing up to do. He’s sending her out on some missionary duties for the Baldwin Charitable Foundation for a year or so. He said if I ever needed anything to let him know. Hell, he even said that he admired and respected me.”
Frank sipped his beer. “Damn. Doesn’t get much better than that.”
“Yes, it does. Baldwin made Barry Alvis his chief inhouse counsel. Alvis was the guy Jenn got fired at Patton, Shaw. Alvis promptly walked into Dan Kirksen’s office and pulled the entire account. I think Dan was last seen on the ledge of a very tall building.”
“I read where the firm closed its doors.”
“All the good lawyers got snapped up right away. The bad ones ought to try something else for a living. Space is already rented out. The whole firm gone, without a trace.”
“Well, same thing happened to the dinosaurs. It’s just taking a little longer with you attorney types.” He punched Jack in the arm.