Removal

  REMOVAL

  President Steve Wade believes his latest affair with a beautiful Lebanese woman, Lucia Benoni, is a secret. When Lucia is murdered in mysterious circumstances, FBI Agent Kelly Smith is called in to investigate and uncovers links between Lucia, a hostile foreign power, a group of vicious white supremacists and a shadowy high-placed Washington figure known only as ‘Fox’. As Wade continues to deny the affair, the press gets on the trail. Because of the national security implications, there are demands in Congress for Wade’s impeachment but if this were to happen, the law provides that Vice President Ellen Trevathan should become President.

  ‘Fox’ and his associates have other plans, which do not include allowing the lawful succession to take place. As time runs out Kelly may hold the key to preventing a coup d’état and a possible civil war.

  About the Author

  Peter Murphy was born in 1946. After graduating from Cambridge University he spent a career in the law, as an advocate and teacher, both in England and the United States. His legal work included a number of years in The Hague as defence counsel at the Yugoslavian War Crimes Tribunal. He lives with his wife in Cambridgeshire.

  The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.

  – United States Constitution, Article II, Section 4.

  Contents

  Removal

  About the Author

  Title

  Prologue

  Part I Opening

  Part II Middlegame

  Part III Endgame

  Copyright

  Prologue

  ‘The President wants you to know,’ Dick Latham said, ‘that you all have his complete trust.’

  Not for the first time that day, Latham’s hands were unsteady. His law school graduation ring kept catching the edges of the black binders as he took them out of his briefcase one by one. He was sure everyone had noticed.

  ‘This is just a precaution. I’m sure you understand. You will find the confidentiality agreement behind tab one.’

  Until recently, Latham had enjoyed his time as Attorney-General. A former prosecutor who had made a name for himself by breaking up a major drug supply network through Miami, Latham was flattered when President Steve Wade asked him to take on the top law-enforcement job in the country. His days seemed to be a never-ending round of meetings and phone calls, but he was getting good results and he felt he was handling it well. Recently, though, Wade had asked him to do certain things outside the scope of the Attorney-General’s usual duties. Latham felt uncomfortable about some of them, such as calling Senators on the pretext of offering advice about the law. The Senators had their own legal advisers, and they were not fools. They knew his calls were pure political pressure, and had nothing to do with the law. Not that there was anything wrong with a little political pressure during an impeachment. It was just that Latham was not sure the Attorney-General should be the one applying it. His closest friend, a constitutional law scholar at an Ivy League law school, agreed with him.

  Then, as if that were not bad enough, the President had initiated Latham into the Williamsburg Doctrine. Rather like God calling Moses to receive the Ten Commandments, Latham reflected in an irreverent moment, except that the Williamsburg Doctrine was considerably less edifying than the Ten Commandments. Latham immediately wished he could just forget about it. But it was obvious that Wade did not intend to offer him that option. And now, the President had instructed him to preside at this meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the Pentagon. Just thinking about it made him break out in a sweat. None of the protocols for a meeting of the Joint Chiefs had been observed. The Secretaries of the Armed Services had not been informed, let alone invited to attend. No adjutants or assistants were present. The only uninvolved witness was a female army major, who had top secret clearance and would serve as stenographer. The very building made him anxious. It was gray, airless, suffocating. The Pentagon had always been well protected but, since 9/11, the new aristocrats, the security experts, had been given free rein, and the Pentagon was one of their treasured domains. The reinforced glass and concrete, the steel doors, the impenetrable windows, the endless scrutiny – everything seemed calculated to make him feel he was being watched.

  Latham looked around the small, claustrophobic conference room. The four men around the table were examining the black folders he had circulated to them, handling them gingerly; as if they might bite. General Terrell, Chief of Staff of the Army, the ranking officer present and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, was scanning the confidentiality agreement, looking uncomfortable; Admiral McGarry, Chief of Naval Operations, was flicking through the several tabs quickly, giving nothing away; General Hessler, Commandant of the Marine Corps, looking every bit the career combat officer he was, wore his usual impenetrable scowl and showed no inclination to move beyond the Table of Contents. These were not Latham’s people. He found them intimidating. But at least they were already aware of the Williamsburg Doctrine. General Raul Gutierrez, the first hispanic Chief of Staff of the Air Force, was the unknown factor. Gutierrez had just been appointed and was still adjusting to his new role. He had not yet been initiated. There had not been time.

  ‘This is all new to you, General Gutierrez?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. It is.’

  Gutierrez had a relaxed manner, which concealed an intense dedication to the Air Force and to his career. He had first built his reputation as an outstanding fighter pilot. Later, when his eyes grew too old for combat flying, he had proved himself again as a commander. He was reputed to be sharp. Latham was particularly nervous about him.

  ‘Well, let me summarize the political situation, and then I’ll ask General Terrell to talk to us about the Williamsburg Doctrine.’

  Almost as if he were in high school, General Gutierrez raised a hand.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr. Attorney-General, but before we get started – this is just because I’m the new kid on the block here and I have a lot to learn – I would like to make sure I understand the basis of this meeting.’

  ‘Basis? What do you mean?’

  Gutierrez shifted in his chair.

  ‘Well, I guess what I’m asking is, which hat are we wearing? If I understand correctly, you’re here today representing the President. Now, we report to the President as Commander-in-Chief, and we also report to the Secretaries of our Departments. But the Secretaries are not represented here. I was just wondering what the basis of the meeting was, exactly.’

  Latham frowned. They were right about Gutierrez. He hoped to God it was not going to be a problem.

  ‘We’re here at the request of the President, General Gutierrez. There are certain matters the President believes would be better discussed in a small group. The Secretaries also report to the President, so I don’t see any difficulty. Everything will become clear as we proceed. I must ask you to accept that for now.’

  Gutierrez shrugged.

  ‘Whatever you say,’ he replied with a smile. ‘Just wanted to know where I stand, that’s all. Comes from responding to too many requests from the ground for air support during my flying days, I guess. Sometimes wires would get crossed, cause problems. I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.’

  ‘Not at all, General,’ Latham said, as calmly as he could. ‘We want everybody on the same page. Feel free to ask any questions you want.’

  General Hessler snorted unpleasantly and looked at his watch. Latham nodded and coughed as he looked down at his notes. The room seemed to have become warmer.

  ‘As you all know, Gentlemen, the impeachment has begun and, while it’s early days yet, the indications are that things are not going too well for the President. The prosecutors need a
two-thirds majority to convict, so if the Senate were to divide along party lines, the impeachment would fail. But some members of his party are leaning towards the prosecution. The President is doing all he can to encourage his supporters, but in light of the testimony developed by the House Intelligence Committee …’

  Admiral McGarry gave Latham a grim smile.

  ‘In light of that testimony, the President is about to crash and burn,’ he said. ‘I think we all know that, Mr. Latham. The papers are saying they expect it to be over and done with next week.’

  Suppressing his irritation, Latham ran a finger under the collar of his shirt, which was beginning to feel too tight.

  ‘There is a possibility that the President may be convicted of high crimes and misdemeanors. It could happen as early as next week. Yes, that is correct.’

  Latham took a sip of water.

  ‘But we believe that our supporters in the Senate will pull back when the time comes …’

  ‘That’s not what I’m hearing,’ Hessler intervened.

  ‘Me neither,’ McGarry added.

  ‘Be that as it may. The matter is by no means hopeless. Not yet. But, the point is, if the President is convicted, Article Two, Section Four, of the Constitution provides that he shall be removed from office. In that event, the Constitution further provides that the Vice President takes over as President.’

  Latham bit his lip.

  ‘Which… brings us to the Williamsburg Doctrine. General Terrell, for the benefit of General Gutierrez, would you please outline the history and basic principles of the Doctrine?’

  Terrell exchanged a brief glance with McGarry. Gutierrez sat up in his seat, eyeing Terrell closely. The Army Chief seemed reluctant to begin.

  ‘The Williamsburg Doctrine,’ Terrell said eventually, ‘is the name given to a resolution of the Joint Chiefs of Staff adopted at a meeting at Williamsburg, Virginia, in January 1965. It has no constitutional or legal effect …’

  ‘That’s a matter for me, I think,’ Latham broke in sharply.

  Terrell shrugged.

  ‘The Kennedy assassination made a lot of people start to think about what might have happened. Specifically, about the line of succession to the Presidency. As you know, General, we had a lot of foreign involvement under Kennedy – the Bay of Pigs, the Cuban missile crisis, Vietnam, not to mention the ongoing Cold War. There was some anxiety because of the unpredictability of the succession. There was a question about the commitment of the Vice President to our military policies.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Gutierrez said quietly. ‘I’m not aware the Military had any problem with Johnson.’

  ‘It wasn’t about Johnson,’ Terrell said. ‘But the fact that Johnson was in the White House was an unpredictable event. The Vice Presidency is always unpredictable. That’s the basic principle of the Doctrine.’

  ‘The Vice President is not an issue in an election,’ McGarry broke in. ‘He’s an afterthought. Nobody cares who’s Vice President. Everybody assumes he will never have anything to do with military matters, much less become Commander-in-Chief. We never paid much attention to the Vice President, or at least we didn’t until Kennedy bought it.’

  ‘Right,’ Terrell agreed. ‘So when the dust settled, the Joint Chiefs decided that there should be some kind of policy, just in case we lost a President in circumstances in which the Vice President might be … well, unreliable.’

  Gutierrez swallowed hard.

  ‘Unreliable?’

  ‘Yes. Unreliable. Maybe, at that time, they had little reason to think there would be a repetition. Since then, of course, we’ve lost Nixon, and we nearly lost Clinton. But in any case, they decided that there should be a policy. There was a top-secret meeting in Williamsburg, like the meeting we’re having today. And certain guidelines were drawn up, which have since become known as the Williamsburg Doctrine. They have never been invoked - well, not until now, anyway.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘What exactly do these guidelines say?’ Gutierrez asked, trying to sound composed. It took a major effort.

  Terrell seemed equally ill at ease. He doodled absently on the yellow pad on the table in front of him for several seconds.

  ‘Well, you understand, there are two possibilities. One, the President dies. In that case, the Vice President takes over immediately. And in that case, frankly, no one has speculated on how the Williamsburg Doctrine would apply. Two, the President is removed from office. In that case, we have time to think about it before it happens. The Doctrine is easier to work with. Essentially it provides that, if it should be the opinion of the Joint Chiefs that the Vice President is unreliable, and therefore not acceptable as Commander-in-Chief, then certain steps should be taken to ensure that the succession is delayed until the people have the opportunity to make a different choice.’

  Gutierrez looked at the men seated around the table. Their faces offered no comfort.

  ‘What?’ he breathed.

  ‘A number of circumstances were identified at the Williamsburg meeting that would make it possible to argue that the Vice President might be unreliable. The only one of any relevance today is that the Vice President might be considered overly left-wing or radical to be acceptable as Commander-in-Chief. To put it another way, that her patriotism might be open to question when it comes to military matters.’

  For some seconds, Gutierrez stared blankly at Terrell. Then, abruptly, he laughed out loud.

  ‘OK, OK . Now I get it. This is just my rite of passage? Right? ‘Welcome to the Joint Chiefs’. Make the new guy look like an idiot. Well, I have to hand it to you. You did a great job. You really had me fooled.’

  No one joined in the laughter.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Gutierrez said.

  PART I

  OPENING

  1

  Ten months earlier

  IN THE DIM light, Lucia could just make out their distant reflection in the mirror of the dressing-table against the opposite wall. They were a handsome couple, she thought. Perhaps not quite Abelard and Heloise, not quite Romeo and Juliet. But a handsome couple, nonetheless. Pity about the wife, but then again, no relationship was perfect. And it wasn’t just business. Far from it. She liked him, perhaps even cared for him. There was no denying the physical attraction between them, something Lucia always appreciated. She looked at him fondly. Beautiful. Even if he were not the most powerful man in the world, he would still be quite a catch. Steven Marion Wade, Jr., President of the United States, looked younger than his fifty years, and his daily exercise routine, though a source of some amusement to the White House press corps, kept his weight in proportion to his six feet three inches of height. He had a full head of sandy hair and light brown eyes. He might easily have passed for forty, on his best days perhaps even thirty-five. His youthful looks never failed to surprise.

  Neither did the fact that he was President. Before his election, most observers had written him off as a lightweight. In his home state in the south, he had served adequately as a district attorney, then as a state legislator, and finally as Governor, but he had made little impact on the national scene before entering the presidential primary race. No one saw him coming. Wade had a natural charm, a relaxed southern accent, and an astute mind, which he did not always fully reveal. He also had a shrewd understanding of the issues that mattered to the voters. Quietly, he began to build momentum, and by the time his opponents realized what was happening, it was too late. His election to a second term was achieved almost as a matter of course. The only real obstacle was persistent talk of a number of indiscretions, talk which his experienced campaign team was able to head off before it did any real damage. He was now halfway through his second term, and his popularity was at an all-time high. He was confident in himself, and it showed. The talk in Washington already was of a legacy, one of the better ones.

  Lucia herself was quite a catch in anybody’s book. In her mid-thirties, she was an exceptionally beautiful woman, only an inch or two s
horter than the President, slim, with olive skin, long black hair, and bright dark eyes. Her accent was European, but difficult to pin down to a particular country. It was the result of being raised, she liked to say, as a gypsy. She was born in Italy to Lebanese parents who were immigrants, but not settlers. She lived with them in more homes than she could begin to count, as they moved constantly in an unending quest for a better life. But her education, if irregular, was broad and practical. She grew up speaking several languages fluently, and learned to deal naturally with people of all nationalities and backgrounds. When life eventually brought her to Washington, she felt strangely at home.

  She first met the President at a White House dinner which she had attended as the escort of a male friend, a German diplomat. The friend was gay, and Lucia covered for him on occasions when he wanted to conceal that fact. The moment she was introduced to the President she felt his instant attraction to her, and she was not surprised when, later in the evening, a Secret Service agent discreetly asked for her telephone number. She first went to him a week later in the White House residence, while the First Lady was somewhere in Africa on a goodwill mission. There was no pretense between them. The moment the door was closed, she undressed, and began to show the President the full range of her skills. From that moment, he had been captivated.

  The White House was not the best venue for a secret rendezvous. It was easier when he was on the road, in a hotel, as he was now in Chicago. Of course, she always had to deal with the Secret Service agents. At first they were very suspicious of her, searching her thoroughly before allowing her into the President’s room, rifling through her purse, even making her take off her shoes to check for concealed weapons. But now they were more used to her, the searches had become more casual, and sometimes they even exchanged pleasantries with her. Except for the woman - Agent Linda Samuels. Nothing Lucia did or said made any difference there. Samuels made no effort to hide her dislike for Lucia, or her disapproval of Lucia’s relationship with the President. Jealous, Lucia thought with a smile. She knew the type. She wondered if Samuels had a sex life of her own.