I don’t say a word.
“Your friend Adenauer wanted to know if she’s doing drugs.”
“How’d they-?”
“C’mon, son, they see you let Vaughn in the building; and then you’re dating Nora… All they want now is the last piece of the triangle.”
“But she doesn’t know Vaughn.”
“That’s not the question!” he says, raising his voice. Just as quickly, he clears his throat and calms himself down. Family always makes it emotional. “Tell me the truth, Michael. Is Nora doing drugs?”
I stop.
He stays perfectly still. I’ve seen him use this same tactic before-an old lawyer trick-let the silence drag it out of you.
I sit back in my chair, trying to look unfazed. Is she doing drugs? “Not anymore,” I say without flinching.
Across the desk, he nods to himself. It’s not the kind of answer you can argue with, and to be honest, I don’t think he wants anything more than that. There’s a reason no one takes notes in the White House. When it comes to subpoenas and FBI questions, the less you know, the better.
“So what’re you going to tell the FBI?” I eventually ask.
“Same thing I told them last time: That even though I know they’re hungry to catch the biggest fish in the pond, they damn well better be careful before they start making accusations at the principals.”
The principals. The only ones around here worth saving. “I guess that takes care of her part of the problem.”
“Her part of the…? Michael, have you been paying attention? We’ve got an incumbent President who’s only nine points ahead in a reelection race where, as pathetic as it sounds, the most resounding issues are the escapades and adventures of his daughter-your girlfriend. On top of that, we’ve got the FBI closing in and dying to make the big kill. So if you get sucked down by this investigation, and you give even the slightest impression that Nora’s involved-let me put it this way-you don’t want to hand Bartlett that ammunition.”
“I’d never say a thing.”
“I’m not saying you would. I’m just making sure you understand the consequences.” He leans forward on his desk, staring straight at me. Then he looks away, unable to hold the pose. It’s not just unease in his voice. After two calls from the FBI, it’s fear.
Feeling the two-ton weight he just dropped on my shoulders, I rephrase the original question. “So how long do you think we have?”
“That depends on how persistent this reporter Inez is. If she’s got a source, I’d say you’ve got until the end of the week. If she doesn’t… well, we’re doing our best to stall.”
End of the week? Oh, God.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod and climb to my feet.
“Are you sure?” The tone in his voice catches me off guard. He’s actually worried about me.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him.
He doesn’t believe it, but there’s nothing left to say. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from trying. “If it’s any consolation, Michael, she does care about you. If she didn’t, you wouldn’t be presenting the decision memo.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“For the roving wiretaps. Didn’t you see the list?”
I open the file folder and check for myself. Sure enough, it’s in there-next to the word “Participants” are my initials: M.D.G. The wide grin that flushes my cheeks reminds me how long it’s been between smiles. I’m not just writing this memo. For the first time in my life, I’m briefing the President.
By the time I get back to my office, I’m in a full-fledged sweat. If Lamb’s right, it’s only a matter of days. The race is on. If I don’t beat Inez to Vaughn and the money… Instinctively, I look at the clock on my wall. Not much longer. Luckily, I’ve got something to pass the time.
My ego keeps telling me it’s the single greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, but deep down, my brain knows I’m completely unprepared. Two days from now, I’m going to sit across the desk from the President. And the only thing I can think to say is, “Nice office.”
I flip on my computer and grab the wiretap folder, but before I can even open it up, I’m interrupted by the ringing of my phone.
“This is Michael,” I say.
“Hey, Mr. Hot Shot. Just returning your call.”
I immediately recognize the condescending tone. Officer Rayford from the D.C. police. “How’s everything going?” I ask, struggling to sound upbeat.
“Don’t yank my chain, boy. I’m not in the mood. If you want your money, I’ve got a new phone number for you.”
On the corner of the folder, I write down the number. “Is that Property Division?”
“In your wet dreams. I transferred it over to Financial Investigations. Now you’re the pimple on their ass.”
“I don’t understand.”
“As long as it’s suspicious, we’ve got a right to hold it-and last I checked, driving late at night with ten grand in cash is still suspicious.”
“So what do I have to do now?”
“Just prove it’s yours. Bank account, cashed check, insurance policy-show ’em where it came from.”
“But what if-”
“I don’t want to hear it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s someone else’s problem.” With that, he hangs up.
Lowering the receiver, I’m once again back to Inez. If Simon wants to, he can point her to the money. That’s his trump card. Mine, God willing, is a drug dealer named Patrick Vaughn. Looking at my watch, I see it’s almost time.
Pulling my jacket from the coat-rack, I head for the door. As I step into the anteroom, though, I’m surprised to see Pam still at the small desk outside my office. “Phone go out again?”
“Don’t ask,” she says as I pass behind her. “Where you headed?”
“Just over to Trey’s.”
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just going to grab some coffee-maybe steal some Ho-Hos from the vending machines.”
“Have fun,” she says as the door shuts behind me.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” I ask as I poke my head in Trey’s office.
“Good timing,” he says as he hangs up his phone. “C’mon in.”
I stay by the door and motion in the direction of his other two officemates. He knows the rest. “Want to take a lap?” he asks.
“That’d be best.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Trey follows me out the door. We take the stairs to the second floor. It goes without saying-no one takes a lap on his home court.
Heading up the hallway, I keep my eyes on the checkered black-and-white marble floor. In the OEOB, life is always a chess match.
“What’s going on?” we both ask simultaneously.
“You first,” he says.
Trying to look unconcerned, I check over my shoulder. “I just wanted to make sure we were set with Vaughn.”
“Don’t worry, I got everything we need: tube socks, Band-Aids, Ovaltine… ”
He’s trying to cheer me up, but it’s not working.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” he adds as he puts an arm on my shoulder.
“Nervous I can deal with-I’m just starting to wonder if it’s even a good idea to go through with this.”
“So now you don’t want to meet him?”
“It’s not that… it’s just… after Adenauer’s picture in the paper and the way they’re putting the pressure on Lamb… I think the FBI is getting ready to pounce.”
“Even if they are, I don’t see much of a choice,” he points out. “You’re taking every precaution we can think of-as long as you’re careful, you should be okay.”
“But don’t you see, it’s not that simple. Right now, when the FBI asks me about Vaughn, I can look them in the eye and say we don’t know each other. Hell, I can pass a lie detector if I need to. But once we get together… Trey, if the FBI is watching as close as I think-and they see me and Vaughn talking-every defense I ever had goes right down the toilet.”
Reaching the end of the hallway, we both fall silent. During laps, you don’t talk until you see who’s around the corner. As we make the turn, there’re only a few people at the far end. Nobody close. “Obviously, it’s not the best situation,” Trey replies. “But let’s be honest, Michael, how else do you plan on getting answers? Right now, you’ve got about one third of the story. If you get two thirds, you can probably figure out what’s going on, but who you gonna get it from? Simon? All that leaves you is Vaughn.”