Capitol Conspiracy (13 page)

“Ohmigod. That’s so horrible. Poor Mike. Poor Mike.” He heard a little gasping sound escape from her voice. “I called the hospital, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. Apparently ex-wife doesn’t count as a relative in their books.”

“No,” Ben said quietly. “I suppose not.”

“So how is he?”

“Well, he’s still in ICU, but they told me tonight that he’s…stabilizing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Ben. I grew up with a doctor daddy, too, remember? What’s the prognosis?”

“They just don’t know.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No,” Ben said simply. “He was severely wounded when that bomb exploded. Internal organs were messed up. Respiratory system went into shock. Broke several bones. He’s been in a coma ever since.”

“Do they think he’ll come out of it?”

“Julia…” Ben didn’t have the words. “There’s no way of telling.”

All at once, Ben realized that Julia was crying, and a moment later he realized that he was, too. Crying for the first time since April 19.

“My God, Ben…how did this happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“I remember when we were all in college. We were the best of friends, the three of us. Mike and I were so in love. Dad was still alive. We were happy and together and…” Her voice choked. “What went wrong, Ben?”

“I…don’t know.”

“What’s happened to the world? What the hell is wrong when…when things like this go on?”

“I don’t have any answers for you, Julia, but—”

“You have to do something about this, Ben. You’re a big shot now. You have to…you have to…see that something like this can never happen again. For Mike’s sake. And mine.”

His voice was so tremulous, he could barely speak. “I will, Julia. I’ll do what I can.”

A long stretch passed, silent except for the crying on both sides of the line.

“You know, Ben…we should get together sometime.”

“I’d—I’d like that.”

“Maybe if”—she drew in her breath and corrected herself—“maybe when Mike gets better.”

“I know he’d like that, too.”

“Okay. Um…you’ll call me if there’s any change?”

“Of course.” He took down her number. “It’s been…very good talking to you, Julia. Very good. You know, I…I—”

“I know, Ben. Let’s talk again soon. Best to Mother.”

She rang off.

Ben wiped the tears from his eyes. He tried to think clearly, but it wasn’t possible. His chest was heaving. He had released a great deal that had been waiting a long time to get out.

Tears trickled into the wound on his cheek and it stung.

His eye caught the clock on the wall. Five minutes till midnight.

Without even thinking about it, his hand moved toward the telephone.

“Ms. Sobel? Yes, it’s Ben Kincaid. Yes, sorry. I know it’s late. But not too late, right?”

He waited for her assurances.

“As a matter of fact, I have. You may tell the president on my behalf that the answer is yes. I’ll do it. Whatever he needs me to do.”

They talked a moment longer, then hung up. Ben slowly lowered his head to the desk.

It was a good thing this chair was so comfortable, because he suspected he would be sleeping in it for a long time. He knew he was not going back to the apartment tonight. He needed rest, and he needed it now.

Tomorrow, everything was going to change. Permanently.

16

U.S. S
ENATE
, R
USSELL
B
UILDING
,
O
FFICE
S-212-D
W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.

C
hristina tried not to let it show, but she was worried. If she had learned anything in her short time in Washington, it was the truth of that old maxim about never letting them see you sweat. It was political suicide. No matter what the circumstances. But she was still worried.

“Hey, Christina,” Loving said, as he ambled into the office. “How’s it hangin’?”

“Oh, fine. Just fine.”

“How’s Ben?”

“Oh, he’s…he’s…” Damn it, she wasn’t going to let it show. But she already had.

Loving laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Chrissy?”

She shrugged, trying to fight back the tears. “He didn’t come home last night.”

“Like that’s never happened before. He probably fell asleep in his office again. I’ll go—”

“I already looked. He’s not there.”

A thin line traced a course across Loving’s forehead. “Well, that’s different. You called his cell?”

She nodded.

“Still, I’m sure he’s around somewhere. He’s always got a hundred balls in the air at once. You shouldn’t worry.”

She was embarrassed at herself for letting down her defenses—so quickly and so thoroughly. It was unprofessional. But she couldn’t help herself. “I was pretty hard on him last night. Really laid into him about this proposed amendment.”

A small light of comprehension glowed behind Loving’s eyes. “Oh. Spat.”

“I’m just afraid….”

“That he didn’t come home because he’s mad at you or somethin’? Chrissy, listen to me.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her so she faced him. “That kid loves you to pieces. I know he doesn’t say much about it. He ain’t good with words like me. But I know he loves you. All you have to do is see the way he looks at you to know that.”

“But…sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“Says who? Look, I know this absolutely: No matter what he’s up to this time, he would never deliberately do anythin’ to hurt you. He would never leave you. He needs you. And he knows it.”

Christina sniffed, wiped the dampness from her eyes. “I hope you’re right. I just worry that—”

“Hey, guys! Look at this!”

It was Jones, shouting at them from his station near the outer door.

“What is it?” Christina asked.

“Fox News.”

“Oh, joy.”

“The president’s giving a press conference. From the Rose Garden. Looks lovely this time of year.”

“Only on television,” Christina remarked. “In person, you notice the snipers on the roof and the Secret Service swarming everywhere and the bomb-sniffing dogs eyeing your purse and the manhole covers that have been sealed shut with acetylene torches. And the security line is incredibly slow. By the time you’re actually inside, you’ve forgotten what a rose looks like.”

“Killjoy. Look—the president is about to speak!”

“I’m sure he will be just as enlightening as ever.” She grabbed her briefcase. “I’ll be in the office if—”

“Ben is right behind him.”

“What?”
Christina was shoulder-to-shoulder staring at the television before another second passed.

The president was striding toward the podium bearing the presidential seal with his usual display of calm confidence. A band somewhere off camera was playing “Hail to the Chief.” She’d had greater appreciation for the song before that literature geek Mike explained that the words came from a poem by Sir Walter Scott that actually depicted the death of a Scottish chieftain executed by the British king. Apparently President Polk’s wife Sarah was irritated when her tiny husband entered a room and no one noticed, so she started ordering the band to play the blaring march whenever he made an entrance. The tradition stuck.

Ben was keeping pace, walking somewhat less forcefully—but then, he always did. Beside him was Senator Jeffrey DeMouy, the man who led the Republican senatorial delegation. The two stood at attention while the president spoke.

“…and so for the safety of this great nation, it is not only important that we move with all deliberate speed, but that we have the finest people the Senate has to offer leading the charge. It is my great pleasure to announce that I have chosen a truly representative cross-section of Congress to take this important leadership role: a Republican and a Democrat, representing both viewpoints and the bipartisan need for tightened security—one of the Senate’s most senior senators and one of the most junior, giving us both the wisdom of age and the enthusiasm of youth. Most important, they are fine men whom I admire and respect, men I trust to make this urgently needed constitutional amendment a reality—Senator Jeffrey DeMouy of Louisiana and Senator Benjamin Kincaid of Oklahoma.”

Christina’s voice dropped to its lowest tone. “No.”

After a spattering of applause, Senator DeMouy began speaking. Christina didn’t catch most of it. It was the same predictable twaddle she would expect from a presidential flunky with White House ambitions of his own. Her attention was focused on the smaller figure standing just to his side. The one she had recently married on the front steps of the U.S. Supreme Court building.

What did Ben think he was doing? And how could he possibly consider doing it without telling her first?

“…in these dire days, we must move quickly to tell the enemies of freedom that we will not be cowed by their cowardly attacks. This is a nation forged in fire. We have always been strong. We will remain strong. Quick action on this amendment will send a message saying that no matter what you do, we will fight back, and we will win. We will be resolute in our…”

His Cajun-flavored voice was like a droning buzz in Christina’s head.
Enough with the claptrap already. Get to Ben!

Only a moment later, he did. After being introduced, Ben approached the podium. His lack of experience with press conferences was immediately apparent, but in a strange way, that lent what he said a genuineness that the other politicians lacked.

“As you know,” Ben said in careful, measured tones, “I was present during the April nineteenth attack. My wife and mother were put in jeopardy; my best friend, a law enforcement officer who has put his life on the line time and again for the betterment of the commonwealth, is still in critical condition, and we simply don’t know if there’s any chance that he will recover—or if he does, if he will resemble the man he once was.”

Ben turned, a pivot Christina recognized as shifting from Camera Two to Camera One, though Ben might’ve done it just because he was too nervous to stand still. “I have always been a firm believer that the rights of the people take precedent over everything else, that the increasing intrusion of government into our lives is a threat to our privacy, that the least government is the best government. But if the attack on April nineteenth brought anything home to me, it was that there are many dangerous threats to the American way of life, and those who make those threats are not playing by the same rules that we do. I would never support any measure that abolished the Bill of Rights or threatened to do so. But those rights have been suspended in the past when the need was great, and today we must face the reality that temporary suspensions of those rights may be necessary in the future.”

A flurry of hands rose in the audience, but Ben was apparently not yet ready to take questions. “This amendment is simply a temporary measure suspending some rights in times of great urgency—the rights most likely to shield and protect criminals and terrorists and those who present the greatest threat to our national security. The decision whether to implement this suspension, and the exercise of powers pursuant to any such suspension, appears to me to be placed by this amendment in the most competent, capable, and knowledgeable hands. Therefore, for the sake of all Americans, and in a concerted effort to make sure that nothing like 9/11 or April nineteenth ever happens again, I lend my full support to this measure, and I urge others to do the same.”

Christina stared at the television screen, her jaw agape. “I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it.”

Loving laid a hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy, Christina. He’s only doin’ what he thinks is right.”

“But he’s wrong.”

“But he thinks he’s right.”

“He’s not thinking at all. He’s so torn up about Mike, he can’t see straight.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we need to be tougher on criminals.”

“You think we need to be tougher on illegal aliens. The ones who come from outer space.”

“I’ve been out on the streets tryin’ to catch bad guys, and lemme tell you, it’s no picnic.”

“This won’t make things better.”

“You don’t know that. There are two sides to this issue.”

“Yes, and Ben has just taken the wrong one.”

Loving took a deep breath. “Chrissy—are you mad at Ben because he’s supportin’ the amendment—or because just for once, he disagrees with you about somethin’?”

She turned slowly to face Loving, her eyes blazing. Her lips parted—then froze.
No,
she thought.
Don’t kill the messenger. You may need him.

“I’m mad because he did this without even telling me.”

“Well…,” Loving allowed, “he probably could’ve handled it better.”

On the television screen, Ben was fielding questions.

“Have you discussed this with the Democratic leadership in the Senate? Do they support your position?” asked a salt-and-pepper-bearded reporter from
The Washington Post.

“No,” Ben said, “I haven’t discussed it with anyone. I’m taking a position that seems to me necessary—even essential—in these difficult days. But I do know that there are others in the Democratic Party who feel the same way I do.”

“Enough to get the amendment passed?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said quietly. “I hope so.”

“I understand that you want to make the American people safe,” said the brunette reporter from
The New York Times,
“but isn’t there a danger that the price tag for that security is our fundamental American freedom?”

“We’re talking about fighting terrorists. Maybe it’s Saifullah, maybe it’s someone else. Domestic or foreign—it doesn’t really matter. The men who wrote the Bill of Rights could never have conceived of a threat of this nature. If they had, I shouldn’t wonder that they might’ve written an emergency clause like this one into the Bill of Rights themselves.”

The questioning continued, but Christina couldn’t stand it any longer. She snapped the television off.

“We have to do something,” she said, arms folded across her chest.

Loving gazed at her, puzzled. “Not sure what you mean, Chrissy.”

“I’m talking about someone doing some serious legwork. To be more specific—you.”

“Me? What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You are the office investigator, aren’t you?”

“I just got back from vacation!”

“But you are the office investigator, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“So as of now, I’m giving you an assignment. Start investigating. The attack on April nineteenth.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I want to know what happened. What
really
happened. Who was behind it.” She glared at the television screen, even though it was dark. “All these people keep babbling about terrorists, but the truth is, we have no idea who orchestrated this crime. I want you to find out.”

“Me?” He looked at her as if she had asked him to find the Lost Ark of the Covenant. “Isn’t more or less the entire U.S. government tryin’ to find out who was behind the attack? And comin’ up with nothin’?”

“Yes,” Christina said, staring directly into his eyes. “But I know something the entire U.S. government does not.”

“You’ve got a killer clue? A smokin’ gun?”

“Something even better,” she said, motioning him toward her office. “Good gossip.”