Robert took a step closer to the Chief of Staff. “So, the President’s poll numbers must have taken a huge plunge for him to send all this firepower. CNN or UPI?”
“I’ll ignore that, Mr. Veil. Fact is, the President’s on his way out of office, so he doesn’t care about the numbers. He does, however, care a great deal for this little lady, and wants her as safe as possible.”
“And I’m sure his legacy never entered his mind.”
“Can we please move on to something else,” asked Fiona, annoyed.
“Good,” said Pearle. “Let’s talk about the questions. Now, as I was saying before Mr. Veil walked in, it’s going to get a little more personal than we first thought.”
Fiona sat back down on the couch. “Personal?”
“Yes,” Pearle continued. “We’ve been informed that several of the Senators are going to delve into your personal life. Namely, your relationship with Carlos Medina.”
Robert’s eyes flashed over to Fiona. “The money launderer?” That’s why all the press outside.
“Yes,” she said, sounding a little surprised, but not ashamed. “The FBI cleared me. We dated for a short time. Nobody, including me, knew about his dealings with the Columbian cartels. Not the DEA, the FBI, or anyone else. As far as anyone was concerned he was a respected banker, a Vice President, and had been for years.” Robert knew a lot about Carlos Medina. One of the biggest money launderers in the United States, he cleaned more than $10 billion in drug cartel profits a year. The week after he entered witness protection, somebody riddled him with bullets at a Seattle Dairy Queen.
“She was cleared, Mr. Veil,” Pearle added. “We believe her. Carlos Medina fooled a lot of smart people.”
“Then why is it coming up now? If she was cleared by the FBI, why bother?” It’s Rothschild! I know it’s him!
“You know how this game is played,” said Pearle. “Someone has a problem with Judge Patrick and wants her nomination killed. Question is, who and why?”
“Who could it be?” Fiona asked. “I have enemies, but I never thought it would come to this.”
“The White House doesn’t have a clue?” I’m sorry Fiona. It’s my fault. Rothschild is after me, not you.
“No,” said Pearle. “Whoever’s rattling the cage is highly placed.
Virtually every member of the Judiciary Committee has given us the cold shoulder overnight. This hasn’t happened since Bork’s nomination in
‘87.”
“I’m sorry all this is happening so quickly, Judge Patrick,” Pearle continued. “We didn’t see it coming.” He lowered his head. “And I hate to add more to your plate, but…” Pearle turned to Robert. “It’s about you, Mr. Veil.”
“What about me?”
The Chief of Staff sat down next to Fiona. “We believe you’d be better served if Mr. Veil were no longer involved. It was a courtesy in the first place, and only because you insisted. Given the events at the reception and in light of these new developments…well, we have more than enough men to do the job.”
“Out of the question,” snapped Fiona. “He was no more at fault than the Secret Service.”
“I understand how you feel, but even the President has concerns. Mr.
Veil’s background at the Agency could come into question, and who knows what else? You two are being linked as an item.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Fiona insisted. “Exactly who’s linking us?”
“I’m not here to pass judgment. I’m only telling you what we hear in the halls. And please beg my pardon for saying this, but that hug you gave Mr. Veil when he walked in wasn’t exactly platonic.” Fiona fell silent. Robert fumed. “That three ring circus you’ve got out there isn’t going to make her any safer,” he said, knowing the fix was in.
“And neither did you. The Bear walked right past you at the Ritz, so don’t get on that famous high horse of yours,” snapped Pearle.
Fiona leaned back against the sofa, head back, eyes closed.
Robert took a deep breath. “Okay, if it’ll make things run smoother I’ll step out of the picture. But I’ll still hang out around here. It’s still her house, isn’t it?”
Pearle nodded his approval. Robert sat down next to Fiona. “Don’t worry, they’ll take good care of you, and I won’t be too far away.” Fiona’s eyes watered, the tears didn’t fall. “If you say so. I just hope I can get through this in one piece.” Pearle handed her a clean handkerchief from his pocket.
“Don’t be silly,” said Robert. “You’re one of the toughest people I know. Who else could hold up under this kind of pressure? Anybody else would’ve caved weeks ago.”
A soft knock on the door, and his mother, tailed by Thorne, entered the room.
“Ahhh, Ms. Veil,” said Pearle, walking over to greet her. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Barbara shook his hand. “Thank you Chief Pearle. And it’s a pleasure seeing you again. But if you’ll be so kind, I need a word with my son and Judge Patrick.” She placed a firm hand on Pearle’s shoulder.
“It won’t take long, then this old woman will get out of your way.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Pearle. “I have to get back to the White House anyway.” He walked over to Fiona. “I’ll fax over a list of possible questions in an hour.”
Fiona thanked him and the room cleared. Robert watched Pearle avoid walking past Thorne, obviously remembering the patented ass whipping he’d received in the desert outside Kuwait.
Barbara stared soothingly at Robert. Thorne sat down next to Fiona.
“What’s going on?” Fiona asked.
Barbara moved closer to Robert, her eyes never leaving his. “My son has a few things he needs to share with you. Tell her, son, it’s all right. I understand, but she needs to know.”
“Know what?” said Fiona, looking at Thorne, then up at Robert.
Robert knelt down in front of her, the mound in his throat the size of a grapefruit. He told her the story. Her eyes widened in disbelief. She looked from Barbara to Thorne, as though waiting for the punch line.
“It’s all true, honey,” said Thorne. Barbara nodded her concurrence.
Fiona put her head in her hands. “My God,” she exclaimed. “My God!”
28
“Mr. Rothschild, your ten o’clock appointment just pulled into the parking garage.”
“Send him right in when he gets upstairs.”
“Yes sir.”
Seventy-two hours from his sobering meeting at the Saudi Embassy, Edward sat dreading the arrival of Suraya, without the evidence, and no closer to a solution. He thumped his desk in staccato then swiveled around facing the window. A clear view of early morning Washington filled the wide panels of plate-glass like his own personal picture postcard.
What Mr. Veil? What were you looking for at Parklawn? It’s the evidence. It has to be.
He felt the eyes of his father and grandfather on the nape of his neck, staring over his shoulder from the painting behind him. Don’t fail us!
Protect the name! Protect the legacy! Kill them all!
“Mr. Rothschild, Mr. Khomeini has arrived.” Suraya swung the door open and rolled his considerable girth through the door. Edward arranged an extra-wide leather chair for the Iranian, a detail not unnoticed by Suraya, effusive in his appreciation. Pleasantries aside, the Iranian turned serious, carefully measuring his words as though other ears might be listening. Edward assured him they could talk freely.
“I hope you have good news for us, Mr. Rothschild,” said Suraya.
“My partners and I are ready to move in your favor.”
“Thank you, Suraya. Everything is in order. I’d like you and the others to hold off just a little longer. Everything will be over in a couple of days, then we can move forward without interruption.” Suraya stared Edward down with cold black eyes. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Our people are in place and soon they’ll be ready to go. We need your little situation to cease now, not a few days from now.”
“Listen,” Edward said, his teeth clenched, nostrils flaring. “I too have much riding on this. But there are a few loose ends I must clean up before any action is taken.”