No one in the room said anything. Sanford looked to me and nodded.
“Gambling,” I said.
“What?” the chief justice said.
“Consider these facts,” I said. “E-sports are the fastest growing participatory and spectator sport in the world. The only thing that isn’t happening there is what has happened with all other sports in the world: Betting. Wagering. Gambling.”
Carstensen said, “And now imagine a time in the not-too-distant future when you could bet on e-sports, all digitally, potentially from any computer in the world. And every smart-phone. And every tablet. And all of the betting is occurring via hard-to-trace Bitcoin.”
Director Sanford said, “We’re talking billions upon billions upon billions of untraceable dollars. If it had worked, Crowley and Bronson could have been among the wealthiest people on earth, if not the wealthiest.”
“Who would take such a chance?” the House minority leader said, disgusted.
“Two super-nerds, young brilliant dropouts with no social skills and zero empathy for their fellow man,” Carstensen said. “They see little difference between real-life humans and game avatars. They’re all expendable. And they believed that they were so good at game theory and design, at thinking their way through the ramifications of every possible move, that they could cover all their bases. Only they didn’t. Evidently, the first time Varjan, the Hungarian assassin, was contacted by them anonymously, she attached some kind of electronic bug to her reply that followed it to the source. She knew who they were from the start.”
“Fatal mistake on their part,” Mahoney said. “I mean, they were good enough hackers to know the itineraries of every one of their targets, but they missed her bug.”
The Senate majority leader said, “Idiots. Congress would never have allowed uncontrolled gambling like that.”
I shrugged. “Congress might have if the president thought it was a good idea.”
All around the Oval Office, brows knitted and then heads turned to look at President Talbot, who appeared puzzled. “What are you saying?”
“I said that, hypothetically, sir, if the president thought unfettered gambling on e-sports was a good idea, their scheme might have worked. Such a president could have lent his popularity and influence to see it through Congress, sold it as a way to bring in new sources of revenue to do governmental good.”
“Well, hypothetically or not, I don’t support anything like that,” Talbot said. “Never have. Never would.”
There was silence in the room.
Director Sanford ended it by saying, “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but you must know that’s not true.”
The president raised his head and glared at Sanford. “How dare you tell me what I support and don’t.”
Carstensen said, “The Senate bill that would have allowed digital gambling as a means to collect tax revenues and so decrease the national debt. You’re familiar with it, aren’t you, Mr. President? You’re listed as a co-sponsor.”
Talbot laughed. “Young lady, do you know how many cockamamie bills a senator will cosign in a career? Hell, half the time you don’t know what it is you’re supporting. You’re just doing a colleague a favor. Making him look good.”
Sanford said, “So you don’t support digital gambling, sir?”
“I just said that, didn’t I?” Talbot snapped. “Frankly, I think this is outrageous. You don’t honestly think I colluded with these two clowns on the autism spectrum to overthrow the government just so they could make billions, do you?”
Chapter 105
There was another long, tense silence in the room, with everyone either looking at us or at Talbot.
I cleared my throat, said, “Well, sir. There’s also the presidency. The ultimate office. The dream of every senator. Even you, sir.”
“Bull turd,” Talbot sputtered. “I have never—” He laughed caustically and shook his head. “How in God’s name do you think this all happened? I mean, I became Senate president pro tempore by accident. My good friend and colleague Senator Jones — who was expected to recover just fine after his heart operation — died before he even got on the operating table. Explain that.”
Bree said, “Senator Walker was assassinated, sir, and if she hadn’t died, she’d have been in line to take Senator Jones’s place as Senate president pro tempore. Not you.”
His face reddened and tightened. “And who are you?”
“DC Metro chief of detectives Stone, sir,” Bree said. “I solved Senator Walker’s murder. And again, if Walker wasn’t dead, she would have been standing where you are now.”
“Exactly right, but so what?” Talbot said dismissively. “Arthur wasn’t killed. He just died. Things happen randomly.”
“They do sometimes,” I said. “But not in this case. Senator Jones did not just die. He was helped.”
Mahoney held up a photograph of Kristina Varjan in death. “We showed this picture to Senator Jones’s sister, who was in the room when he coded. We also showed it to the night nurse on the cardiac unit. Both women identified this assassin as the phlebotomist who was with the Senate president pro tempore shortly before his heart attack.”
I said, “Which put you behind Abraham Lincoln’s desk, sir. The most powerful man on earth. Capable of bestowing unfathomable wealth on a favored few.”
Talbot shook his head like a horse at biting flies. “This is not true. You will not find any tie between me and—”
The door to the Oval Office swung open. Samuel Larkin walked in.
“Larkin?” Talbot said, growing furious. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
“I’m here to place you under arrest for treason,” the former acting president and attorney general said, unruffled. “I’ve seen the interrogations of Stapleton, Crowley, and Bronson. They all say it was your idea, cooked up the day after President Grant died. You and Bronson and Crowley were eating at a restaurant in Reno and talked out the whole thing.”
“That’s not true!” Talbot said.
“There’s security footage of you all together.”
“It’s fabricated! Fake news!”
“You’ll get your day in court to prove that. A lot more than your victims got,” Larkin said, nodding to Secret Service agent Reamer. “Arrest him.”
Reamer smiled, said, “With pleasure, Mr. President.”
“What?” Talbot shouted, backing up. “They’re giving the presidency back to you, Larkin? This is illegal! This is a coup!”
“I’ll be taking over temporarily,” Larkin said. “By all accounts, Harold Murphy is going to live and make a full recovery, thank God. The secretary of defense is the rightful successor to the office and will take over as soon as he’s physically able.”
“No!” Talbot said when the Secret Service agent came around the desk. He stormed over to the French doors that led to the west colonnade of the White House, threw them open, and stepped outside. He looked ready to try to make his escape, but he froze when two Marine MPs walked up and blocked his path.
“Stand aside,” Talbot said. “I’m your commander in chief!”
“Not anymore, you’re not,” Agent Reamer said from behind him, and he roughly snapped the cuffs on the former leader of the free world.
Chapter 106
Six days later, six riderless black horses clip-clopped down Pennsylvania Avenue, followed by six coffins on horse-drawn caissons, all draped in U.S. flags.