Removal (7 page)

The compound comprised almost five acres, and was surrounded by a tall, barbed-wire fence. Carlson’s office, like the other buildings on the compound, was a Quonset hut, painted both inside and out in a dull gray. The fluorescent lighting cast a yellow glow over the interior – the tinted windows excluded most natural light. The coffee mugs and the ash-tray on Carlson’s desk were made of battered tin and on the wall behind Carlson’s desk was a large map of the United States, on which were several brightly-colored pins with paper flags attached. The remaining wall space was taken up with computer print-outs, some beginning to yellow with age.

Carlson was scanning the day’s newspapers and other on-line news sources while watching CNN. It was part of his daily routine to keep track of any political developments which might be useful in promoting his strategy of undermining the corrupt Federal Government of the United States. Any news items of particular note would join the existing collection on the walls. The half-hour news segment on CNN was coming to an end, and was due to be followed by sports news, in which he had little interest. He turned the volume down to concentrate on
The Washington Post’s
report that the President was denying any knowledge of a woman called Lucia Benoni.

‘And in a late-breaking story,’ the female anchor was saying, ‘Police in Washington D.C. made a grisly discovery early this morning, and are giving away very few details of what appears to have been the brutal execution-style slaying of a young woman. Lisa Jones reports from Washington. Lisa?’

Carlson looked up and turned the volume back up. The scene switched to an apartment block. A perfectly made-up young woman reporter holding a microphone was standing in front of the building, the entrance to which was guarded by a uniformed police officer.

‘Jennifer, very few details are available at this time, but sources tell CNN News that the body of a woman was found in the early hours of this morning by D.C. police officers in an apartment in this city-centre building. The woman, whose identity is still unknown, had been shot once in the back of the head. Police are refusing to supply details of the shooting, and will say only that they are following several leads. But a source close to the investigation, who asked not to be named, told me that the murdered woman appeared to be either European or Middle Eastern. Jennifer, I should add that this apartment building is very well known in Washington, because a number of senators and congressmen live here while Congress is in session. No word yet, though, on who occupied the apartment in which the body was found.’

‘Lisa, do the police have any motive in this killing?’

‘Jennifer, if they do, they’re not saying anything right now. Of course, there’s a great deal of speculation going on here, but I repeat, nothing definite at this stage.’

‘I see. OK, thanks, Lisa.’

‘You’re welcome.’

The scene switched back to the CNN studio.

‘And we’ll update you as soon as we have any more information on this breaking story,’ the anchor said. ‘That’s the news this half-hour. Sports is next.’

Carlson turned the volume down again, and returned to
The Washington Post
. Having finished the article about the President, he stared out of the window for some time, then walked into the adjoining room, where his second-in-command, Dan Rogers, was reclining in an armchair, drinking a beer. Rogers was a little taller than Carlson, and powerfully built. The edge of a black dragon tattoo was visible under his left shirt sleeve. Like Carlson, he wore his hair cropped short. The two men had met during a particularly unpleasant campaign in Angola, and had been friends ever since. Rogers had a genius for technical and mechanical things which Carlson lacked, and he had been happy to put his skills at the service of the Commandant in return for some home-made insignia which proclaimed his high rank in the Sons of the Flag.

‘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.

K
ELLY
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.’

M
ARTHA
G
RAYLOR
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 Ice 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.’