“She wants it on Wednesday. Do we have anything that can’t be canceled that morning?”
Cora consulted the diary. “Nothing I can’t move around, sir.”
“Coordinate that with the appointments secretary, then call Mrs. Wallace and confirm a time with her and let the Secret Service know about it.”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”
“We’ll talk after my national security briefing,” Will said. He went through his day’s schedule, made a few phone calls, then got up and went into the Oval Office. Everyone present stood.
“Please be seated,” he said, looking around. He saw his wife, representing the CIA; the director of the FBI, James Heller; the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Marvin Moore; his National Security Advisor, Alice Ramirez; and the vice president, Howard Kiel. Other presidents had been briefed by one agency at a tune, but Will preferred having them all in the same room at the same time, since it promoted interagency information sharing. “Good morning to you all,” he said.
There was a murmur of greetings in response.
“Let’s get started. General Moore?”
The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff leaned forward in his seat. “Mr. President, it was a fairly quiet night. We have a helicopter down in Afghanistan, but it looks like mechanical problems. One injured, none dead. The chopper is being repaired. Nothing else of note.”
“Thank you, General.” Will went from person to person until everyone had reported. “Thank you, all. Jim, would you and Kate stay?”
The FBI director kept his seat, and so did Kate.
When the others had cleared the room, Will spoke again. “Jim, Senator Wallace of South Carolina was murdered this morning in Chester, South Carolina.”
“What?” the director asked, looking alarmed.
Heller always said “What?” to anything; put to him. Will let it sink in. “Get in touch with the local sheriff down there, Tom Stribling, and get some of your people up there from Columbia or Atlanta, or wherever’s closest, and start an investigation.”
“Mr. President, murder is not a federal crime,” Heller said.
Will sighed. He had inherited Heller from the previous administration, and he found him barely competent and, sometimes, a little dense. He had not replaced him on taking office, because he felt that the position of FBI director should not be a political appointment, subject to change with every administration. But now, having worked with the man for a year and a half, he had decided to replace him at the first reasonable opportunity. “Murder of a federal official is a federal crime,” he said, trying not to sound impatient.
“Oh, of course,” Heller said, turning a little pink. “Any details?”
“The sheriff will have them. All I know is that he was shot and killed instantly.”
“Any suspects?”
“Jim, I don’t know. Ask the sheriff. Kate, do you have any information that might be useful to the director?”
“I’ll check with my staff when I get to Langley, Mr. President,” she said. She always addressed him formally when doing government business in the company of others.
“I think we’re done, then,” Will said.
“Mr. President, may I have a moment?” Kate asked.
“Of course. Goodbye, Jim. Brief me personally when you have a grip on the Wallace murder.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” the director said. He got up and left.
Will went and sat by Kate. “Are you going to tell Heller about Freddie’s little indiscretion?”
“I don’t think so, unless it turns out later to have some relevance to his murder,” she said.
“I think that’s just as well.”
“However, the indiscretion reminds me of something that you and I should discuss.”
“Shoot.”
“I expect you remember Ed Rawls.”
“I believe I do,” Will said dryly. Ed Rawls was a disgraced former CIA operations officer, who had sold information to the Russians a few years back. He had been one of the Agency’s top operatives and Kate’s mentor there, until, largely through her efforts, he had been exposed, tried, and convicted. He was now doing twenty-five years to life at the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.
“I have a lot to tell you about Ed Rawls-things I had hoped you wouldn’t have to know. Freddie’s death has dredged it up.”
“You sound as though I’m not going to like this,” Will said.
“You’re not,” Kate replied. “”Neither do I. But it’s time you knew.“
4
KATE TOOK A DEEP BREATH and began, using the voice she used when briefing the president, not the one she used when giving her husband bad news. “Christmas three years ago, when you were deciding whether to run, we were in Delano with your folks. Do you remember that I had to go somewhere on business?”
“Yes, you took the car, and I thought it was very odd, but I’ve been trained not to ask questions when you say 'business.'”
“The business was Ed Rawls. I had a letter from him that morning, addressed to your parents’ house, asking me to come to see him at the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.”
“And you went to see him?”
“Yes.”
“Why on earth did you do that? It would certainly be against Agency policy, wouldn’t it?”
“Not if I reported the visit, and I did. Something in the letter made it necessary.”
“What was in the letter?”
“He knew about Joe Adams.”
Adams had been vice president at the time, and only the day before, he had invited Will and Kate to Camp David for brunch and told them that he was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease.
Will was stunned. “Jesus, you and I had only known about it for twenty-four hours, and I thought we were the only ones. How could a man in prison get that information?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. He did say that all sorts of things went on there that no one on the outside could imagine. He said there were prisoners there with cell phones. For all I know, he might have been one of them.”
“I’m glad you didn’t tell me at the time,” Will said.
“There’s more. Freddie Wallace also found out about Joe’s condition and leaked it to a columnist, probably Hogan Parks.”
“Why didn’t Parks use it?”
“Because Ed somehow got to Freddie and threatened to expose his relationship with the black woman, if he let Parks run the story.”
Will shook his head. “This is insane, all of it. A man in prison knows the most intimate secrets of the vice president and a United States senator?”
“You have to remember who Ed is, or rather, was. Of all the people I knew in the Agency, Ed had the widest range of contacts in government and the press. In those days, he could find out anything, track down any rumor, scare anybody to death, if he had to. He was not the sort of man you’d want for an enemy.”
“I suppose not. But why are you telling me all this now?”
“Because of the real reason Ed wanted to see me in Atlanta.”
“Which was?”
“He wanted a presidential pardon, and he thought if he helped you win the election you might come through for him.”
“This is the craziest thing I ever heard of,” Will said.
“Except that he did help you get elected. In fact, you could say that without his help, you would not have been elected.”
Will blinked. “By dealing with Freddie about Joe Adams?”
“Exactly. He got a letter to Freddie, threatening to expose his relationship with the woman if he used the information about Joe’s health. Freddie somehow figured out where the letter came from and had Ed thrown in some dungeon part of the Atlanta pen for a week, but when Ed got out, he managed to convince Freddie that he had the wrong man, and he continued to write to him, having letters sent from other places. He kept his foot on Freddie’s neck for months.”
“And he expects me to pardon him for that?”