Chapter Nine
The helicopter landed softly on a patch of grass by the Reflecting Pool between the Washington and Lincoln Memorials. As the rotor blades slowed, a short flight of steps unfolded. The door of Nighthawk swung open and President Herrera appeared, sporting a full-dress uniform that made him look like a minor character in a B-movie. He stood to attention and returned the salute of the waiting Marines, then walked the short distance to his armoured Cadillac limousine. As the motorcade proceeded up Seventeenth Street, every flagstaff was flying the Colombian, American and District of Columbia flags.
Tom Lawrence, Larry Harrington and Andy Lloyd were waiting for him at the south portico of the White House. ‘The better-tailored the outfit, the more colourful the sash, the more numerous the medals, the less significant the country,’ Lawrence thought as he stepped forward to greet his visitor.
‘Antonio, my dear old friend,’ said Lawrence as Herrera embraced him, though they had only met once before. When Herrera eventually released his host, Lawrence turned to introduce him to Harrington and Lloyd. Cameras flashed and videotapes whirred as the presidential party made its way into the White House. Several more ‘grip and grin’ pictures were taken in the long corridor below a full-length portrait of George Washington.
After the requisite three-minute photo-op the President ushered his guest into the Oval Office. While Colombian coffee was being served and yet more photographs taken, they discussed nothing of significance. When they were eventually left alone, the Secretary of State began to guide the conversation on to the current relationship between the two countries. Lawrence was grateful for the briefing he had received from Larry earlier that morning. He felt able to speak authoritatively about extradition agreements, this year’s coffee crop, the drug problem, even the new metro being constructed in Bogota by an American company as part of an overseas aid package.
As the Secretary of State broadened the discussion to take in the repayment of extended dollar loans and the disparity of exports and imports between the two countries, Lawrence found his mind wandering to the problems he would have to face later that day.
The Arms Reduction Bill was getting bogged down in committee, and Andy had already warned him that the votes just weren’t stacking up. He would probably need to see several Congressmen individually if he was to have any chance of pushing it through. He was aware that these ritual visits to the White House were usually nothing more than ego-massaging, so that the elected representatives could return to their districts and inform the voters — if they were Democrats — how close their relationship was with the President, or — if they were Republicans — how the President was dependent on their support to get any legislation through. With the mid-term elections less than a year away, Lawrence realised that there would have to be quite a few unscheduled meetings during the coming weeks.
He was brought back to the present with a jolt when Herrera said, ‘...and for that I must thank you particularly, Mr President.’ A large smile appeared on the face of Colombia’s leader as the three most powerful men in America stared at him in disbelief.
‘Would you care to repeat that, Antonio?’ said the President, not quite sure that he had heard his visitor correctly.
‘As we are in the privacy of the Oval Office, Tom, I just wanted to say how much I appreciated the personal role you played in my election.’
‘How long have you been working for Maryland Life, Mr Fitzgerald?’ asked the Chairman of the Board. It was his first question in an interview that had already lasted for over an hour.
‘Twenty-eight years in May, Mr Thompson,’ replied Connor, looking directly at the man who sat at the centre of the large table facing him.
‘Your record is most impressive,’ said the woman sitting on the Chairman’s right. ‘And your references are impeccable. I’m bound to ask why you want to leave your present job. And, perhaps more important, why Maryland Life seems willing to let you go.’
Connor had discussed how he should answer this question with Maggie over dinner the previous evening. ‘Just tell them the truth,’ she had said. ‘And don’t bother with any guile; you’ve never been any good at it.’ He hadn’t expected any different advice.
‘My only immediate chance of promotion would have meant moving to Cleveland,’ he answered, ‘and I felt I couldn’t ask my wife to give up her job at Georgetown University. It would be hard for her to find an equivalent post in Ohio.’
The third member of the interviewing board nodded. Maggie had briefed him that one member of the panel had a son who was in his senior year at Georgetown.
‘I don’t think that we need to detain you any longer,’ said the Chairman. ‘I’d just like to thank you, Mr Fitzgerald, for coming to see us this afternoon.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Connor, standing to leave.
To his surprise the Chairman rose from behind the long table and came round to join him. ‘Would you and your wife care to have dinner with us one evening next week?’ he asked as he escorted Connor to the door.
‘We’d be delighted, sir,’ Connor replied.
‘Ben,’ said the Chairman. ‘Nobody at Washington Provident calls me sir, and certainly not my senior executives.’ He smiled and shook Connor warmly by the hand. ‘I’ll ask my secretary to phone your office tomorrow morning and fix a date. I look forward to meeting your wife — Maggie, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Connor replied. He paused. ‘And I look forward to meeting Mrs Thompson, Ben.’
The White House Chief of Staff picked up the red phone, but didn’t immediately recognise the voice.
‘I have some information you might find useful. I’m sorry it’s taken so long.’
Lloyd quickly grabbed a blank yellow pad and flicked the top off a felt-tip pen. He didn’t need to press any buttons — every conversation that took place on that particular phone was automatically recorded.
‘I’ve just returned from ten days in Bogota, and someone down there was making sure that doors were not only slammed in my face, but locked and bolted.’
‘So Dexter must have found out what you were up to,’ said Lloyd.
‘Within minutes of my speaking to the local Chief of Police, would be my bet.’
‘Does that mean she also knows who you’re working for?’
‘No, I covered myself on that front, which is why I’ve taken so long getting back to you. And I can promise you that after the wild goose chase I led one of her junior officers on, she’ll never be able to fathom who I’m reporting back to. Our Cultural Attaché in Bogota is now following up every known drug baron, every junior official in the narcotics department, and half the local police force. His report will fill so many pages it will take them a month just to read it, let alone figure out what the hell I was doing down there.’
‘Did you come up with anything we could pin on Dexter?’ Lloyd asked.
‘Nothing she wouldn’t be able to explain away with the usual smoke and mirrors. But all the evidence suggests that the CIA was behind the assassination.’
We already know that,’ said Lloyd. ‘The President’s problem is that, although our informant’s credentials are impeccable, he could never appear on the stand, because he’s the person who directly benefited from the assassination. Do you have anything that could stand up in court?’
‘Only Bogota’s Chief of Police, and his credentials certainly aren’t impeccable. If he were to stand up in court, you could never be certain which side he’d end up supporting.’