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  ‘Where did our friend say he was going after he left here?’ Carlson asked.

  Rogers took a swig of his beer.

  ‘Washington. He said there was some more information he was expecting from his source. Why?’

  ‘It’s probably nothing, but CNN just reported a murder in Washington, a woman, believed to be either European or Middle Eastern. The police wouldn’t give out a name. Just a coincidence, probably.’

  ‘Surely, you don’t think…?’

  ‘Who knows?’

  Rogers frowned.

  ‘That doesn’t make sense. Why would he want to waste her?’

  ‘No reason that I can think of. But, then again, we are talking about our friend, aren’t we? He’s not the most stable of characters. You remember that time you had to pull him off that woman in Portland?’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s got his head screwed on, George. I can’t see him doing anything that stupid. In any case, if he has, that’s his problem.’

  Carlson shook his head.

  ‘It’s our problem as well, if he gets picked up by the police. He knows too much.’

  Rogers stood, finished his beer, and set the bottle down on a small table which stood beside his armchair.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Have someone up there watch him for a few days. Maybe everything’s fine and dandy, but if it’s not, I want to know about it.’

  ‘I’ll give our people a call,’ Dan Rogers said.

  8

  KELLY WAS BEGINNING to suffer from lack of sleep. In the light of what had been discovered, she decided not to speak about Lucia Benoni’s murder to Ted Lazenby over the phone. She needed to meet with him in person. After a hurried breakfast at an all-night café, she rushed home to shower and change, tried without success to reach Frank by phone, then drove swiftly to the Hoover Building. When she arrived, a little before seven, she found the Director waiting for her impatiently in his office. He seemed as agitated as she felt herself. As calmly as she could, Kelly gave Lazenby a full account of her visit to the North West crime scene. He listened tight-lipped, without interrupting, sitting nervously at his desk. When she finished, Lazenby stood and paced up and down for some time.

  ‘This is great, just great,’ he observed grimly. ‘Where’s the supposed White House pass?’

  ‘With the officer in charge, Lieutenant Morris. It’s their evidence, Sir, and it’s still their case. I had no basis for asking for it. I’m not sure there’s anything to worry about. There’s probably a simple explanation.’

  Lazenby looked at her directly.

  ‘Is there? You obviously haven’t read the papers yet. What have you been doing since you got back?’

  ‘Trying to salvage what’s left of my love life.’

  Lazenby managed a weak smile of sympathy, as he pushed his copy of The Washington Post to her across his desk.

  ‘This should take your mind off that for a while.’

  ‘What am I looking at?’

  ‘Piece by Mary Sullivan, top right.’

  Kelly leaned forward and began to read.

  ‘Holy shit,’ she said when she had finished the article.

  ‘My sentiments exactly.’

  Kelly pushed the newspaper back across the desk.

  ‘What are you going to do, Sir?’

  ‘I’m going to have to tell the President. I don’t think he’s going to be exactly ecstatic, do you? Kelly, is there any chance of a mis-identification here?’

  ‘I don’t think so. All the documents they found were consistent, and the photos matched the body. No, I would say our body is definitely Lucia Benoni. I asked Chief Bryson to keep a lid on it. He said he would. I hope he wasn’t snowing me.’

  ‘According to CNN, he’s been a good boy so far. But, even so, that buys us a day or two at most,’ Lazenby said. ‘The press are going to be all over the Post article. It’s not going to take them long to put two and two together.’

  ‘I take it the President has an alibi?’ Kelly grinned.

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Sir, if it’s any comfort, there’s a good chance we’re dealing with an individual sexual motive here. Ms. Benoni may have just got into the bondage thing a little too deep for her own good. There’s no evidence that it’s anything more sinister than that.’

  ‘I’m not sure the President will find that particularly comforting.’

  ‘No, Sir.’

  Lazenby sat back down behind his desk.

  ‘What are they going to do with the evidence?’

  ‘Their own people are going to go over it first, and I said our people would give them any technical support they might need. There are some things we can do more quickly than they could. I also suggested that we run the name of Lucia Benoni by State, since she seems to have been well up in the frequent flier stakes.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose we should,’ Lazenby agreed. ‘The Agency, too, just in case.’

  ‘Sir, what do you want to do about the special pass?’ Kelly asked. ‘Do you want to contact the Secret Service and ask? There is still a chance it’s a forgery though, if so, it’s a damn good one. They can scan it for us and tell us in a New York minute.’

  Lazenby exhaled heavily.

  ‘Not if there’s any way to avoid it. Once we make a formal request, the cat’s out of the bag. There has to be some way to check it out without going through the usual channels. There’s not much time. But the last thing I want is to give the President a false alarm.’

  Kelly considered the matter.

  ‘I do have a very close friend on the President’s Detail. If these passes are for real, she must see them all the time. I could ask her to take a look at it.’

  Lazenby rose to his feet once more.

  ‘Can she be trusted?’

  ‘Absolutely, Sir. We go way back.’

  Lazenby paced behind his desk for some time. Eventually, he made his decision.

  ‘All right. But it has to be today some time. I can’t wait to tell the President for more than twenty-four hours. He’ll probably want to beat me over the head for waiting even that long.’

  ‘I’ll get on to it right away.’

  ‘And Kelly, this has to be kept completely quiet until we’re sure.’

  ‘I understand, Director.’

  Lazenby stopped pacing and exhaled heavily.

  ‘What about this Lieutenant, what was his name, Morris?’

  ‘He seems like a good guy. I don’t think we have anything to worry about there. It was his idea to call Chief Bryson and have him call you. He seemed to be taking very good care of the pass.’

  ‘God, I hope so. Let me know what your friend has to say.’

  Kelly stood to leave.

  ‘Oh, and Kelly…’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘You are free to tell Frank it’s all my fault, and what a heartless, demanding bastard I am.’

  ‘I already did, Sir,’ Kelly replied with a thin smile. ‘Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to help.’

  9

  MARTHA GRAYLOR HAD worked for Steve Wade, as Governor and as President, for over fifteen years, and she had spent a lot of time putting out fires for the First Family. But this was the worst she had ever known. The President was pacing relentlessly up and down in his shirt sleeves, clutching a cup of strong black coffee. The First Lady was sitting in a chair at the dining table as if she were glued to it, tense and drawn, her hands clenched tightly in front of her on the table. Julia Wade still had something of the fresh-faced homecoming queen look that had attracted Steve Wade to her when they were both much younger. The blonde hair was shorter now, the fresh complexion was marked by a few lines, and the pale blue eyes looked tired. But she was still a beautiful woman. Julia had retired from a successful career as an advertising executive when her husband had first been elected President. She had never really adapted to her new role. She had the reputation of being aloof and distant, and was known to the press and the White House staff, behind her back, as the I
ce Queen. With their two children away at college, Julia found the isolation of the White House depressing. Most of her friends were in New York, and she seldom saw them. She accepted her public engagements without complaint, and traveled with the President whenever it was required, but she felt as though life were passing her by. Ever since the evidence of her husband’s indiscretions had become too obvious to ignore, their marriage had been one in name only, and she had long since stopped believing his protestations of innocence. But he continued to expect her to support him in public, and pretend to believe his denials and excuses. Martha Graylor understood these dynamics very well, but they did not make her job any easier, especially today. She was sitting awkwardly in a straight-backed chair, trying her best to inject some calm into the situation.

  ‘All I’m saying, Mr. President, is that I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come to the press conference. Not today. I just don’t think there’s any need for it.’

  The President stopped pacing, turned, and looked at her.

  ‘Well, I do,’ he replied. ‘This has got to stop. If the Post is running the story now, everybody and his brother will be running it tomorrow. We have to kill it once and for all.’

  ‘With all due respect, Sir, there’s no way to kill it. With any luck it will die a natural death, but we can’t help that process along.’

  ‘I can issue a denial.’

  ‘You’ve already done that.’

  ‘It wasn’t strong enough. I was ambushed. I didn’t react as strongly as I should have.’

  ‘Mr. President, I wish you would trust me on this. I was there. Everyone knew you were ambushed. Your reaction was completely natural. If you rush into another statement now, they may think you are trying to hide something. It’s going to look as though we are worried about it.’

  ‘We are worried about it,’ Julia Wade said through clenched teeth.

  Martha closed her eyes. She found handling the President difficult enough in these situations. When the First Lady weighed in as well, she felt trapped between two powerful forces.

  ‘I understand, Ma’am. But we shouldn’t be seen to be worried. I don’t think it’s advisable for the President to rush back out there now. In a day or two, they are going to find the Benoni woman and interview her, and we will have to give them a statement then. Let’s hold off for now. Let’s wait to see what she has to say. It may be nothing.’

  ‘I can’t believe the Post would even print this crap,’ Steve Wade said, half shouting. ‘Don’t they have any standards over there any more?’

  ‘I called Harold and chewed him out,’ Martha said. ‘He wouldn’t tell me where they got the story, of course, but he did insist it was legitimate.’

  ‘Legitimate, my ass,’ Julia Wade said. ‘It’s obvious where they got the story. This bimbo is out to sell her story for whatever money she can screw out of the vultures, just like the rest of them.’

  Martha took a deep breath before replying.

  ‘That may prove to be true, Ma’am, but in all honesty, it’s not looking that way right now.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean?’ the First Lady asked furiously.

  ‘Well, in the first place, Harold did specifically tell me she wasn’t the source.’

  ‘And you swallowed that?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am, actually I did. Harold has as good an eye for a story as any newspaper man, but he’s a straight shooter. He will protect his source, but he wouldn’t tell me a deliberate lie. He could have just kept quiet.’

  ‘And in the second place?’ the President asked.

  ‘In the second place, if she were a gold-digger we would have heard from her by now. She would have a lawyer, and they would be taking the lead, scheduling a press conference of their own. They wouldn’t wait for the press to come to them. They certainly wouldn’t lie low and let the Post put its own spin on the story. Not unless she’s being very badly advised.’

  ‘So, I’m being set up? The opposition is doing this?’

  ‘That would be my guess, Sir.’

  ‘God damn it.’

  Martha hesitated and swallowed hard.

  ‘Mr. President, if you don’t feel inclined to just ride out the storm, there are some things we can do.’

  ‘Let me hear it.’

  ‘Well, Sir, we could do some digging of our own.’

  ‘What kind of digging?’ the First Lady asked sharply.

  ‘We could have the Bureau run a check on her. Also the Secret Service. We could find out whether she’s ever been to the White House.’

  ‘Why the hell should she have been in the White House?’ Julia asked, looking at her husband.

  ‘Ma’am, thousands of people come to the White House in any given year, for functions and so on. It might help to know who she associates with. Maybe we can prove that she has connections with the opposition.’

  Steve Wade turned his back on them, and finished his coffee.

  ‘If you think it may get us somewhere, have someone take a look. Very discreetly, and for my eyes only.’

  ‘I’ll get right on it, Mr. President.’

  ‘I’m still coming to the press conference.’

  ‘Mr. President…’

  ‘No, Martha, my mind is made up.’

  Martha headed for the door.

  ‘I’ll alert them… if you’re quite sure that’s what you’ve decided?’

  ‘He didn’t decide,’ Julia Wade said. ‘I did.’

  * * *

  The President was just entering the White House press room when Ted Lazenby’s call came in to his private secretary, Steffie Walinsky. After agonizing over it for some time, the Director had decided that he should tell Steve Wade what was going on, even though it had to be unofficially until the facts were confirmed. It was an uncomfortable decision. Whatever he did, the situation would do nothing to improve his relationship with the President. But Lazenby concluded that it was the best of the several unattractive options open to him. As soon as he made the decision, he called Steffie to arrange a meeting. He was a couple of minutes too late.

  ‘This is important,’ he said. ‘Can’t you interrupt him?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Director, not during a press conference. Not unless the United States is under attack. Standing orders from Miss Graylor. It could give the impression that there’s some panic going on.’

  Lazenby fought back an urge to tell her there was.

  ‘I’ll have him call you right back. We don’t expect it to last very long. He’s just making a cameo today. Miss Graylor’s handling most of it.’

  Lazenby went hot and cold in turn.

  ‘A cameo? Why?’

  ‘I’m not sure, Director. Will you be in your office?’

  ‘Don’t bother, Steffie. I’ll call the President myself later.’

  ‘All right, Director.’

  Lazenby replaced the receiver.

  ‘Oh, fuck,’ he said out loud.

  * * *

  Steve Wade’s arrival caused something of a stir in the press room. Martha had told the journalists only that the President would make a short statement and would take a few questions, and she had abruptly fended off further inquiries. No, she could not speculate about it, and no, there were no advance copies, there was no prepared text. The room was abuzz although, as Martha well knew, it was not because there was any doubt as to what the President intended to speak about. The applause as he took the podium was more restrained than usual. There were even a few cynical chuckles. Martha was relieved to see that Wade appeared quite composed. His manner betrayed no hint of unease.

  ‘Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he began without undue haste. ‘I have only one thing to say this morning. And I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you to learn that it has to do with the story which appeared this morning in The Washington Post.’

  The male reporter who was sitting next to Mary Sullivan grinned at her and shook his head.

  ‘Bad girl,’ he scolded.

  Mary gave
him a kick on his shin, but could not stop herself returning the grin.

  ‘I must admit,’ the President continued, ‘that when the subject was raised yesterday, I was rather taken aback. I may not have made myself as clear as I would wish. So I hope you will forgive me if I take a few moments of your time to do so today. For the record, I want to make it as clear as I possibly can that I know no one by the name of Lucia Benoni, I have had no relationship with any such person, and I find it disturbing that a newspaper as respected as The Washington Post would print a story like this without giving us a chance to comment on it. One might wonder, if there were any truth to the story at all, why this Miss Benoni has not come forward herself. I hope I have made myself clear, and I hope and expect that you will all consider this matter closed, and go back to reporting what really matters, which is the work the American people elected me to do.’

  The President stopped. There was a brief silence while the reporters finished making notes, and made sure that he was not going to continue. All eyes turned to Mary Sullivan, but she remained silent, appearing to concentrate on her notes. The White House correspondent for CBS News picked up the ball.

  ‘Mr. President, I wonder if you can comment on a report that was making the rounds this morning that Miss Benoni was an official guest at a White House function some time ago?’

  ‘No, I can’t, Bill. Several thousand people visit the White House every year for functions, yourself included, and I’m afraid I don’t remember them all.’