“Senator Whiteslaw, this is the President.”
“Good evening, Mr. President. What can I do for you?”
“I need your expertise. Herb, one more time.”
“Always happy to help.”
Smith had only just programmed the wiretap and had hardly expected to have this fall into his lap within three minutes.
“The FEM system is a washout. It failed a major test,” the President said.
“I wasn’t aware a test was scheduled,” said Senator Whiteslaw questioningly.
‘It was an impromptu sort of thing, but it was real-world enough to prove the FEM system is really flawed.”
“They are still being optimized. Their capabilities are getting better every day. Who tested them?”
“Experts. Herb, the FEDs never even knew these guys were on the grounds. And now I’ve got a bunch of fake squirrel tails sitting on my desk.”
“Mr. President, you allowed them to destroy the units?”
“No. They just did.”
“But, Mr. President, that’s got to be a violation of a bunch of federal laws, and it’s not exactly professional behavior—you should have these men detained!”
“Whiteslaw, shut up.”
Silence. Smith wondered what further surprises were coming.
“How can I help you, Mr. President?” Senator Herbert Whiteslaw said finally..
“I need to know if I have a spy in my cabinet.”
“What!”
“You heard me. We’ve got a technology advantage on the rest of the world. It cost us billions and it took years to get here. It’s being erased more every damn day. I don’t want to be the President who allows the U.S.A. to go from superpower to just plain global power. Anybody can be a global power. For God’s sake, France is a global power!” The President took a deep breath. “I need to put a stop to this.”
“You want me to go back undercover, Mr. President?”
“You tell me. Herb. Will it do any good?”
“I can’t promise anything, but I do still have my connections in the Middle East. They’re the kind of people who might know who is selling the plans. Who knows where the trail might lead?”
“Good. Do it.”
“Mr. President, you are asking me to risk my reputation, my future in politics.”
“You’ll be sanctioned by me.”
“Sanctioned?”
“I’ll back you up. Herb, a hundred-and-ten-percent. You get busted. I’ll go public. You’ll come out looking like a hero.”
“All right, Mr. President. I’ll get started.”
The call ended. Mark Howard yanked open the door and pushed his way inside, finding the CURE director looking thoughtful.
“Dr. Smith?”
“Mark, listen to this.”
Smith replayed the just-ended conversation. Mark Howard recognized the voice of Senator Herbert Whiteslaw at once and became visibly alarmed. By the end of the call he looked like a man who didn’t know what to think.
“What’s your take?”
Mark shook his head. “I honestly can’t tell you,” he said. “I thought Whiteslaw was in WTTSEC.”
“The records say he is being held in the witness protection program while his case is sorted out,” Smith said, leaning over his screen. “The highest-security files have him documented as a potential top-level traitor. He was told he is under danger of assassination and was put in the witness protection system for his own safety, but the Homeland Security is monitoring him for evidence of betrayal.”
“The evidence CURE had,” Mark Howard said. “And altered.”
‘It served its purpose,” Smith said. “Still, I wouldn’t have given my approval for using it if I thought the President would free the man.”
“So why did the President free Whiteslaw, and create this fiction in the records of the federal intelligence departments?” Mark asked.
Smith stared into space, weighing the possibilities. Some of those possibilities were quite troubling, and he jumped when the red phone rang.
Smith and Mark Howard stared at one another as Smith picked up the receiver and punched on the speaker. “Yes, Mr. President?”
“So, Smith, what’s your verdict?”
Mark’s eyes grew wider.
“My verdict on what, Mr. President?”
“I’d rather not play games, Smith. I bet you tapped my line. Maybe you have had my line tapped from the very start, but I’m guessing you heard the call I just made.”
“Yes, Mr. President. Mr. Howard and I were just discussing it.”
“You have some questions to ask and they’re pretty important ones. If I give you the wrong answers, then you’ll have to make some mighty big decisions.”
Dr. Smith felt the rumble in his chest as the mighty weight of all this settled into his chest like a quarry full of massive boulders. “Yes, I understand perfectly.”
Mark Howard did not. Not quite.
“You had better ask those questions. Smith, so we can move on. One way or another. I’ll call you back in five minutes.”
Chapter 33
Secret Service Special Agent Martina Vespana had long ago decided that all politicians were nuts and desperately in need of protection by sane human beings such as herself.
She was as competent and cool as they came, and despite her lack of skill in the political glad-handing department, she was noticed for her dedication. Despite not knowing enough of the right people, despite not having kissed enough of the proper backsides and despite the fact that she was equipped with the wrong sort of natural plumbing, she managed to get a high-ranking White House assignment. Based on her job performance, of all things!
She considered other career choices during the bleak days of the previous administration. Her backside and her pride could take only so much presidential man-handling. She was sure she was going to lose her cool if she had to put up with those busy executive hands and those furtively whispered invitations to “see Little Rock”.
She was almost pushed too far. Another few gropes would have been the last straw. Just one more thumb- jab in the…
Then came salvation. An intern. A cigar. A lot of media scrutiny and a few lies. Bad news for the nation but good news for Agent Vespana. Slick Willie’s manners improved overnight.
She had nothing to fear from his successor in that department, and in fact the current Man seemed levelheaded, less of a lunatic than the others.
But you have to be a lunatic to be President, right? And every once in a while some of the lunacy came out unexpectedly. Like in the middle of a full-scale White House Alert, Level Red-Beta. Red-Beta meant the President went deep underground and stayed there until somebody told him it was okay to come out.
She was quite surprised, then, to see him emerge onto a balcony just over her head.
“I need to see you boys right away,” the President said, as if he was talking to somebody right there with him. But he was alone. Nobody around except Vespana.
“Mr. President, get to deep cover,” she insisted.
“Evening, Agent. Good to see you on the job.”
“What is your security situation, Mr. President?” she demanded.
‘I’m just fine. I am just fine, Agent.”
Vespana felt better. The operative phrase today was fine. If the President said he was good it would have told her he was, in fact, in extreme danger, probably under threat of immediate physical harm.
“Then why are you—?”
The President went back inside the White House.
Vespana grabbed for her radio and demanded to know what the hell was going on.
Chapter 34
“I guess I’m a little slow on the uptake, Dr. Smith,” Mark Howard said. “The President knew we were tapping him. What questions does he want you to ask him?”
Smith’s eyes were heavy with dread. He had not expected this and wasn’t prepared for it. Even a man such as himself could not emotionlessly contemplate throwing the nation and the world into political chaos.