I Do Solemnly Swear (8 page)

Elizabeth stared at Kate intently. “Some things, Kate, you just know.”

They parted with a firm embrace. Elizabeth warned President Miles not to trust anyone. Kate promised to be careful. How she’d keep her promise was yet to be determined.

Kate quickly learned that the Oval Office could operate more efficiently with a revolving door at the entrance. Nonstop traffic zoomed in and out all day long and often into the evening hours. It served as the nerve center for the Executive Branch. It was an arena where battles were fought, policies argued, a place where relationships were made and careers were ended. Information was integrated into its most concise form and funneled into this throbbing office. It was a pulsating hub of strategy and social commerce.

Every morning at seven a.m., Kate met with McDermott and Olivia Carter. A staff of twenty-five watched the world with a discriminating eye. They examined seventeen major newspapers, eight magazines, twenty-two political blogs, and several TV news programs with an emphasis on FOX News, MSNBC, and CNN. Their only task was to gather information. Every worthy event was evaluated, validated, and then compacted into synopsis form so that the president could get a broad, yet brief, overview of consequential news, anything that affected the United States or its allies.

This was merely the starting gate.

Throughout the day, Cabinet secretaries, members of the Joint Chiefs, the CIA, the FBI, marched in and out of the Oval Office nonstop. Each with their own agenda, they conferred with Kate and tried to convince her to endorse whatever partisan issue was at the top of the heap. More often than not, conflicts of great proportions erupted. Harmony was not the order of business. Kate generally felt like a solitary matador trying to fight a herd of charging bulls.

On this particular day, Kate was enjoying an uncommonly quiet morning. McDermott stormed into the Oval Office without knocking and slammed the door behind him.

“Sorry to bother you, Madam President, but we need to talk.”

Kate leaned back and watched McDermott approach her. His cheeks were flushed. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, which was unusual, and it looked like he’d either slept in his cotton shirt or taken it out of the hamper. His hair was disheveled too. Recognizing the importance of the situation, Kate led McDermott through the door to her private office. No one dared invade this sanctuary without an invitation.

She sat in the Victorian armchair adjacent to the window overlooking the rose garden. McDermott sat opposite her in the damask-upholstered Queen Anne chair. She watched him incessantly blinking and wondered why he was so frazzled. His hands were trembling.

“You look like you need a Valium.”

He hesitated a moment and let out a heavy sigh. “The venom that killed President Rodgers was from a sea animal known as a box jellyfish.” He removed a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Cubomedusa is its scientific name.”

“So the mysterious poison is from a
fish
? That’s, by far, the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It gets worse. Crazy as it sounds, this particular jellyfish is found only off the coast of northern Australia and in waters near the Philippines.”

“I’m supposed to believe that someone extracted jellyfish poison from halfway around the world, flew it to Washington, and got it into President Rodgers’s bloodstream—
without
it being detected by the Secret Service?”

“Maybe you should speak to LaPlant yourself.” His voice was edged with impatience.

She got up, turned her back on the COS, and gazed out the window. “OK, let’s assume that someone figured out a way to bypass the Secret Service. How could President Rodgers have consumed enough jellyfish poison for it to be lethal?”

“The box jellyfish produces the most toxic venom in the world. LaPlant said an ounce or two could stop a healthy heart in a very short time.”

Katherine Miles pivoted on the balls of her feet. Her eyes locked on McDermott. “I’d like someone to research this box jellyfish and give me a detailed report.”

McDermott pointed to a brown folder. “I’ve already done my homework, Madam President. There are few substances in the universe as deadly as Cubomedusa venom. One jellyfish has enough venom to kill sixty people.” McDermott swallowed hard and looked at his notes. “The venom attacks the central nervous system, the heart, and the skin, and the victim feels an intense burning throughout his or her body.”

Kate could feel her throat knot up. It was like sitting in front of a dentist, trying to force that last swallow just before she had to open wide. A strained whisper was the best she could do. “How badly did he suffer?”

Stress lines formed on McDermott’s brow. “When someone is actually stung by a box jellyfish, death comes quickly—in as little as three minutes.” He hesitated and stared at the folder. “But in this situation, President Rodgers didn’t drink enough to kill him quickly. It was likely a long, painful process.”

McDermott loosened his tie and licked his lips. “It wasn’t pleasant, Madam President.”

Kate curled her fingers into fists and could feel her nails digging into her flesh. She envisioned David Rodgers doubled over in excruciating agony.

“Damn! Damn! Damn! When we find these bastards, I want to personally flip the switch and watch them roast!” She sat on the window seat and could feel her pulse throbbing in her temples. “I’d like some privacy, Charles. Tell Emily not to disturb me unless it’s urgent.”

After McDermott left, Kate stared out the window at the few remaining roses. Soon they’d surrender to autumn’s frosty nights. It was the cycle of life. She wanted to speak with Leonard LaPlant, to find out more about the poison. But she was afraid to learn the truth. She didn’t want to hear the morbid details of how horrible his death might have been. Then something occurred to her. If David’s final moments had been agonizing, why hadn’t he called out to Elizabeth? Elizabeth had told Kate that David went to sleep and never awakened. How could anyone have suffered as much as he had and not yell for help?

She went to her desk and pushed the intercom button.

“Emily, I need to speak with Leonard LaPlant, the medical examiner.”

***

Less than twenty-four hours after McDermott had told her how David Rodgers died—barely enough time for her to catch
her breath—President Miles faced an anxious group of journalists. McDermott had urged her to let William Riley make the announcement, but after his first ambiguous press conference, she decided to take control before things got out of hand.

Her state of the union address to Congress was only days away, and she hadn’t yet drafted an outline. What would she say to 535 constituents, most of whom would rather tar and feather her than give her the time of day? One thing was certain: somehow she’d have to find a way to dazzle them, to convert at least some of her adversaries into supporters.

Kate gripped both sides of the podium so tightly her knuckles turned white. She saw familiar faces: Ed Applegate from the
Post
, Kimberly Butler from the
Times
. Some were supporters, others harsh critics, but all could affect her credibility with the power of their words. She awaited her cue, watching for the red light just above camera number one. Her charcoal business suit accentuated her honey-blonde hair. An audience of 120 journalists and seventy million Americans intently listened.

She reached for her reading glasses.

“Good morning, my fellow Americans.” She’d argued with Riley, but he insisted that she start her speech this way. “A terrible tragedy, an injustice of gross proportions, has befallen the White House and the entire country.”

Befallen? Was Riley kidding?

Kate disliked these words more now than she had when she’d read them earlier. Who the hell did Riley think she was, Lyndon Johnson?

“I am unable to give you specific details at this time, but David Rodgers was assassinated.”

The crowd, of course, reacted to this stunning announcement with a wave of chatter.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate could see Riley shaking his head, his look one of disapproval. “He didn’t have to run for president. He could have spent the rest of his life traveling the world with his beloved wife, enjoying the fruits of his labor, rewarding himself with his vast financial resources. But as a concerned patriot, he answered a calling. His country beckoned him, and he did not turn his back. Instead, he sacrificed his life for the America he loved. He was not only the president of the United States; he was my dear friend.”

She pounded her fist on the podium and ended by saying, “I stand before the world and make two promises: First, I will utilize every resource available and aggressively pursue President Rodgers’s assassins. When apprehended, they will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, swiftly and without mercy. Second, David Rodgers’s dream of a once-again united America will not fall by the wayside. I make this pledge: with your continued support, we will return this great country to peace, prosperity, and equal opportunity for all. Thank you.”

For an agonizing moment, silence enveloped the room. Kate held her breath. If her speech had any impact, why was she staring at expressionless faces? Sweat trickled between her breasts, and a stab of anxiety twisted into her gut. Then the reporters stood and applauded thunderously.

She waited for the room to quiet. “I’ll do my best to answer some questions.”

A hundred journalists yelled, “Madam President!” Questions shot out like bullets from an assault weapon.

“Are there any suspects in the president’s murder?”

“Do you believe there is a conspiracy?”

“Wasn’t his food tested by the Secret Service?”

“How does it feel being the first female president?”

“Do you think you’re in danger?”

“How many staff members will you replace?”

“How do you propose to gain the support of Congress?”

She fielded the questions well, answering some directly, waltzing around others.

But overall, Kate felt as though the press conference had gone well. Better than she’d anticipated. Though, until she watched CNN and examined the morning edition of the
Washington Post
, her instincts meant very little.

***

Retirement is a time when most people do those leisurely things they’ve always wished they could do. For Trevor Williams, retirement was a prison, an era of solitude that allowed him too much time to think. He couldn’t believe that the home he’d built—with bloody knuckles, lungs full of sawdust, and a sprained knee—was now an oversized structure of lifeless furnishings. And for what? So he could die like a hermit? He glanced at the
Topeka Examiner
for the third time, feeling less surprised than the rest of the country. He, perhaps more than anyone, knew for certain that his daughter was indeed in danger. What could he do about it? He had talked Kate into accepting David Rodgers’s offer in the first place. Once again, he’d made a decision concerning Kate that wasn’t in her best interest. He wondered how many other parents lived vicariously through their children.

Trevor’s jaw tightened, and he gritted his teeth. He stood slowly and could feel a dagger twisting in his lower back, a hot flame running down the back of his thigh. His herniated disc announced further deterioration. Trevor limped over to the oak desk and thumbed through the Rolodex. He never cared much for computers. He picked up the telephone and dialed Kate’s private number. He didn’t expect her to answer. Presidents didn’t actually
answer their own telephones, did they? Maybe a busy president could find time for the father who’d never found time for her.

***

“I’m sorry, Charles,” Kate said, “but I refuse to remain a prisoner in the White House any longer.”

“But, Madam President, all I’m asking is that you postpone your engagements for another week. Riley will draft a credible story for the press and explain why you’re temporarily out of the limelight. Before you know it, things will be back to normal.”

She hesitated for a moment, inordinately annoyed with his persistence. For some unknown reason, she felt he had a hidden agenda. Kate breathed deeply and tried to calm herself. “As long as I reside on Pennsylvania Avenue, nothing will ever be normal for me, Charles. What could possibly develop in the next week to make my situation less ominous?”

He began pacing the floor. “Over thirty CIA and FBI agents are working around the clock. Not to mention that Carl Kramer has shifted the special commission into high gear.”

“Do they have any leads?”

He shook his head.

She placed her palms on her desk and stood. She walked over to the COS and rested her right hand on his shoulder. Kate gripped it tighter than she’d intended, and he winced beneath her grasp. She eased her grip and looked over her reading glasses.

“Charles, I do appreciate your concern, but I can no longer be held hostage by some imaginary threat.”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“David was murdered right here in the White House. How do you expect me to feel secure?”

His eyes studied the floor. “I’d like to go on record as opposing your decision.”