Evans paused while Sparks said something.
“I’ll go into it later. We need to book Hawkins, and I have to brief Justice Kineer. Can you get him back to headquarters for a meeting?”
Evans hung up and turned his attention back to the president’s aide.
“I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Hawkins, but I think your loyalty to the president is misplaced. Your loyalty shouldn’t be to the man but to the office and to the country Christopher Farrington swore to serve. If the president conspired with you to commit the crimes to which you’ve confessed he has betrayed his oath and he has betrayed the American people.”
Justice Kineer had deserted his congressional lunch companions in the middle of their meal after telling Maggie Sparks to have a war council assembled by the time he returned to the office. When Keith Evans, Gordon Buss, and Maggie Sparks returned from booking Hawkins into jail they found the conference room packed with lawyers and investigators waiting to hear what had happened.
“Give me your best shot about what’s going on here,” Kineer asked Evans when the agent finished his summary of his meeting with Hawkins and Bischoff.
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Hawkins is falling on his sword to protect the president.”
“Convicting Hawkins will be a hollow victory if Farrington is involved in the death of those girls and he skates. Can we do anything to prevent that from happening?” Kineer asked.
“Hawkins is the key,” Evans said. “I can’t think of anyone who can nail Farrington if Hawkins clams up, and believe me I’ve been thinking of nothing else since Hawkins told me he wouldn’t talk about Farrington.”
Kineer looked around the conference room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we all give this our undivided attention because our mission is to determine what involvement, if any, President Farrington has in these murders. If he’s innocent, so be it. If he’s guilty, we have to prove it. We need to decide if we can do that without Hawkins’s cooperation. Does anyone have any bright ideas?”
After forty-five minutes of unproductive discussion Kineer shooed everyone but Evans out of the room.
“I notice you didn’t have much to add to our discussion,” the judge said.
“I couldn’t think of anything to say.”
“Is Farrington guilty, Keith?”
The excitement Keith had felt when Hawkins confessed had died away and the agent looked depressed.
“My gut tells me he is, but I don’t think we can touch him if Hawkins won’t talk.”
“Can he be made to talk?”
“It’s going to be tough. Hawkins is fanatically loyal. He’s idolized Farrington since his college days, and he feels that he owes him his life. He has no family. He has acquaintances but no friends except for the Farringtons. Everything in his life revolves around the president and it has for a long time. I think he’s going to say that he committed all of these crimes on his own. Everyone will believe him because he’ll come off looking like a crazed killer who deluded himself into believing that the murders were necessary.
“But say he changes his story and implicates Farrington. The president’s lawyer will crucify Hawkins by reading back all of the statements in which he exonerates Farrington. I think he’s got us, judge.”
Part Seven.The Queen of Hearts
Washington, D.C.
Chapter Forty-two
Brad got back to his apartment just before three after spending the morning and early afternoon at a law firm interviewing for a job. As soon as he checked for phone messages and e-mail, he changed into running gear. Now that all he had was free time, he was finally able to keep his resolution to exercise.
Working out hadn’t been easy right after the shoot-out. Every time he left his apartment he had to run a gauntlet of reporters who wanted to know what had happened at the Erickson house. Television vans crowded the parking lot at his apartment complex and reporters tied up his phone lines at all hours. Brad wanted to tell everybody what he knew about the Clarence Little case, but Keith Evans had explained that the independent counsel’s investigation could be compromised if he talked to the press, so Brad had been forced to stick to “no comment.”
Shortly after the last reporter called him about the shoot-out, a reporter from the Portland Clarion, Portland’s alternative newspaper, phoned to ask Brad to comment on Paul Baylor’s report, which had concluded that Peggy Farmer’s pinkie was in with the rest of the fingers, but Laurie Erickson’s was nowhere to be found. Brad knew about the report because Ginny had used her feminine wiles to get information out of the associate Tuchman had assigned to take over Little’s appeal, but he had no idea how the reporter had learned about the pinkies. When the reporter said that a confidential source had given him the information Brad suspected immediately that the leak originated with Ginny. His suspicions grew stronger when the reporter told him that the anonymous caller had suggested that Brad had been fired for pursuing the Little case too vigorously because of Susan Tuchman’s ties to the president.
A few days later, a scathing editorial in the Clarion condemned Tuchman for firing an associate who’d gone above and beyond the call of duty to try to prove that a client had been unjustly convicted of murder. The editorial pointed out that Brad had put principle above public opinion by risking his life to see justice done even though his client was detestable.
Brad showered when he finished his run. Then he called Ginny to discuss their plans for the evening.
“Reed, Briggs, Stephens, Stottlemeyer and Compton.”
“Ginny Striker, please.”
“Whom shall I say is calling?’
“Jeremy Reid of Penzler Electronics.”
“One moment, please.”
Brad waited for Ginny to answer.
“Hey,” he said.
“Thank goodness you were smart enough to use an alias. You have no idea how persona non grata you are around here since the Clarion published that editorial.”
“Tuchman deserves everything she gets.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but it would mean my job if anyone found out we were dating.”
“Is that what we’re doing? I thought I was bartering food for sex.”
“Pig. So, how was the interview?”
“Good. I’ll tell you about it tonight. Will you want to go to the movie straight from work or will you have enough time to go home, change, and come back downtown.”
“I’m not certain I’ll have time for a movie and dinner. I’ll call you when I’ve got a handle on my workload. Are you going to be at home?”
“That’s where I am now. I’ll be here for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Okay. Let me try to clear my desk. I’ll see you soon.”
Brad felt a little guilty that Ginny had to work while he spent his days as he pleased. Besides running, he’d hiked in the mountains and at the coast and had gone to an occasional movie. Then there were the pleasant afternoons sitting on his deck reading a book and sipping a cool drink. The life of leisure sure beat toiling away in the bowels of Reed, Briggs, but Brad knew those days were numbered. He’d have to get a job soon if he wanted to feed himself and keep a roof over his head.
Ginny joined him on the weekends when work permitted and he’d been spending his nights at her place when she wasn’t too tired. Brad was a fair chef. On two occasions he’d spent an afternoon working up an elaborate menu for their evening meal. Ginny had paid him back with some of the best sex ever and all the office gossip she could dig up.
Another way Brad spent his time when he wasn’t hiking, cooking, or looking for work was by keeping up with the independent counsel’s investigation. He’d absorbed every piece of information about it in Exposed, the New York Times, and other media outlets. He knew more about the case than most. While they were driving to Marsha Erickson’s house Dana Cutler had told him what had happened after Dale Perry hired her to tail Charlotte Walsh. Most of that information had been in Exposed, but Brad had learned about the shoot-out at the motel, which had happened after she’d given Patrick Gorman the story.