Shall We Tell the President? (26 page)

‘Are you satisfied?’ the Chairman asked the
Senator.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ he said, and sank into
a brooding silence, still wiping his brow. Then he thought of something else
and was about to start his questioning again, when the door flew open and
Matson rushed in.

‘Sorry, boss. I’ve been following something
up.’

‘It’d better be good,’ snapped the
Chairman.

‘It could be bad, boss, very bad,’ said
Matson between breaths.

They all looked anxiously at him.

‘Okay, let’s have it.’

‘His name is Mark Andrews,’ said Matson, as
he fell into the unoccupied seat.

‘And who is he?’ asked the Chairman.

‘The FBI man who went to the hospital with
Calvert.’

‘Could we start at the beginning?’ the
Chairman asked calmly.

Matson took a deep breath. ‘You know I’ve
always been bothered about
Stames
going to the
hospital with Calvert — it never made sense, a man of his seniority.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the Chairman impatiently.

‘Well,
Stames
didn’t go. His wife told me. I went by to visit her to offer my condolences,
and she told me everything
Stames
had done that
evening, right down to eating half his
moussaka
. The
FBI told her not to say anything to anyone but she thinks that I’m still with
the Bureau, and she doesn’t remember,
or
_i
maybe she never knew, that
Stames
and I were
not exactly friends. I’ve checked up on Andrews and I’ve been following him for
the last forty-eight hours. He’s listed in the Washington Field Office as on
leave for two weeks, but he’s been spending his leave in a very strange way.
I’ve seen him at FBI Headquarters, going around with a female doctor from
Woodrow Wilson, and nosing around at the Capitol.’

The Senator flinched.

‘The good doctor was on duty the night that
I got rid of the Greek and the black bastard.’

‘So if they know everything,’ said the
Chairman quickly, ‘why are we still here?’

‘Well, that’s the strange part. I arranged
to have a drink with an old buddy from the Secret Service; he’s on duty detail
tomorrow with Kane and nothing has been changed. It is painfully obvious that
the Secret Service has no idea what we have planned for tomorrow, so either the
FBI know one hell of a lot or nothing, but if they do know everything, they’re
not letting the Secret Service in on it.’

‘Did you learn anything from your contacts
in the FBI?’ asked the Chairman.

‘Nothing. Nobody knows anything, even when
they’re blind drunk.’

‘How much do you think Andrews knows?’
continued the Chairman.

‘I think he’s fallen for our friend the
doctor and knows very little. He’s running around in the dark,’ Matson replied.
‘It’s possible he’s picked up something from the Greek waiter. If so, he’s
working on his own, and that’s not FBI policy.’

‘I don’t follow,’ said the Chairman.

‘Bureau policy is to work in pairs or
threes, so why aren’t there dozens of men on it? Even if there were only six or
seven, I would have heard about it and so would at least one of my contacts in
the FBI,’ said Matson. ‘I think they may believe there is going to be an
attempt on the President, but I don’t think they have a clue when — or where.’

‘Did anyone mention the date in front of
the Greek?’ asked the Senator nervously.

‘I can’t remember, but there’s only one way
of finding out if they know anything,’ said the Chairman.

‘What’s that, boss?’ asked Matson.

The Chairman paused, lit another cigarette,
and said dispassionately, ‘Kill Andrews.’

There was silence for a few moments. Matson
was the first to recover.

‘Why, boss?’

‘Simple logic. If he is connected with an
FBI investigation, then they would immediately change tomorrow’s schedule. They
would never risk allowing Kane to leave the White House if they believed such a
threat existed. Just think of the consequences involved; if the FBI knew of an
assassination attempt on the President and they haven’t made an arrest to date
and they didn’t bother to inform the Secret Service . . .’

‘That’s right,’ said Matson. ‘They would
have to come up with some excuse and cancel at the last minute.’

‘Exactly, so if Kane comes out of those
gates, we will still go ahead because they know nothing. If she doesn’t, we’re
going to take a long holiday, because they know far too much for our health.’

The Chairman turned to the Senator, who was
now sweating profusely.

‘Now, you just make sure that you’re on the
steps of the Capitol to stall her if necessary and we’ll take care of the
rest,’ he said harshly. ‘If we don’t get her tomorrow, we have wasted one hell
of a lot of time and money, and we sure aren’t going to get another chance as
good as this.’

The Senator groaned. ‘I think you’re
insane, but I won’t waste time arguing. I have to get back to the Senate before
somebody notices that I’m missing.’

‘Settle down, Senator. We have it all under
control; now we can’t lose either way.’

‘Maybe you can’t, but at the end of the day
I might end up the fall guy.’

The Senator left without another word. The
Chairman waited in silence for the door to close.

‘Now we’ve got that little funk out of the
way, let’s get down to business. Let’s hear all about Mark Andrews and what
he’s been up to.’

Matson gave a detailed description of
Mark’s movements during the past forty-eight hours. The Chairman took in every
detail without writing down a word.

‘Right, the time has come to blow away Mr
Andrews, and then we’ll sit back and monitor the FBI’s reaction. Now listen
carefully, Matson. This is the way it will be done: you will return to the
Senate immediately and…’

Matson listened intently, taking notes and
nodding from time to time.

‘Any questions?’ the Chairman asked when he
had finished.

‘None, boss.’

‘If they let the bitch out of the White House
after that, they know nothing. One more thing before we finish. If anything
does go wrong tomorrow, we will take care of ourselves. Understood? No one
talks; compensation will be made at a later date, in
the
usual way.’

They all nodded.

‘And one final point: if there should be a
foul-up, there’s one man who certainly won’t take care of us, so we must be
prepared to take care of him. I propose we do it in the following way.
Xan
, when Kane .. .’

They all listened in silence; no one
disagreed.

‘Now I think it’s time for lunch. No need
to let that bitch in the White House spoil our eating habits. Sorry you’ll be
missing it, Matson; just make sure it’s Andrews’ last lunch.’

Matson smiled. ‘It will give me a good
appetite,’ he said, and left.

The Chairman picked up the phone. ‘We’re
ready for lunch now, thank you.’

He lit another cigarette.

2:15 pm Mark finished his lunch. Two other
men finished their sandwiches and also rose to leave. Mark quickly returned to
the Senate, as he wanted to catch Henry
Lykham
before
the floor debate started. He hoped that
Lykham
would
have something new to reveal after having had a night to sleep on it. He also
needed copies of the Judiciary Committee Gun Control Hearings so that he could
study the questions asked by Brooks, Byrd, Dexter, Harrison, and Thornton.
Perhaps they would reveal another missing piece of the jigsaw. But somehow Mark
doubted it. He was becoming convinced that politicians rarely revealed
anything. He arrived a few minutes before the session was scheduled to begin,
and asked a page if he could locate
Lykham
in the
ante-chamber.

Lykham
bustled out a few moments later. It was obvious he didn’t want a
chat ten minutes before a full session. So he had no real chance to tell him
anything new even if he had thought of something. All Mark did manage to find
out was where to obtain transcripts of the committee hearings and discussions.

‘You can get them from the committee office
at the end of the corridor.’

Mark thanked him and walked upstairs to the
gallery, where his new friend, the guard, had saved him a seat. The place was
already packed. Senators were entering the chamber and taking their places, so
he decided to pick up the transcripts later.

The Vice President, Bill Bradley, called for
order and the tall figure of Senator Dexter looked around the room slowly and
dramatically, sweeping the chamber with his eyes to be assured of everyone’s
attention. When his eyes alighted on Mark he looked a little surprised, but he
quickly recovered and began his final arguments against the bill.

Mark was embarrassed and wished he had
taken a seat nearer the back, beyond the range of Dexter’s piercing glance. The
debate dragged on. Brooks, Byrd, Dexter, Harrison, Thornton. They all wanted a
final word before tomorrow’s vote. Before tomorrow’s death.

Mark listened to them all but he learned
nothing new. He seemed to have come to a dead end. All that was left for him to
do that day was to go and pick up transcripts of the hearings. He would have to
read them through the night and he doubted, having listen-
ed
to the five speak twice already, that they would reveal anything. But what
other lead did he have left? Everything else was being covered by the Director.
He walked down the hall to the elevator, left the Capitol by the ground-floor
exit, and made his way across the Capitol grounds to the
Dirksen
Building
.

‘I would like the transcripts of the Gun
Control Hearings, please.’

‘All of them?’ asked the disbelieving
secretary.

‘Yes,’ replied Mark.

‘But there were six all-day sessions.’

Oh, hell, he thought, it will be worse than
all night; still, it would be only the questions and statements of Brooks,
Byrd, Dexter, Harrison, and Thornton.

‘Sign or pay?’

‘I wish I could sign,’ he said jokingly.

‘Well, are you an official of any kind?’

Yes, thought Mark. But I can’t admit it.

‘No,’ said Mark, and took out his wallet.

‘If you asked for these through one of the
senators from your state, you could probably get them for nothing. Otherwise
that’ll be ten dollars, sir.’

‘I’m in a hurry,’ said Mark. ‘Guess I’ll
have to pay.’

He handed over the money. Senator Stevenson
appeared in the doorway connecting the hearing room to the committee office.

‘Good afternoon, Senator,’ said the
secretary, turning away from Mark.

‘Hi, Debbie. Would you happen to have a
copy of the Clean Air bill as it was reported out of the sub-committee, before
the committee
markup
?’

‘Certainly, Senator, just a moment.’ She
disappeared into a back room. ‘It’s the only copy we have at the moment. Can I
trust you with it, Senator?’ She laughed. ‘Or should I make you sign for it?’

Even senators sign, thought Mark. Senators
sign for everything. Henry
Lykham
signs for
everything, even lunch. No wonder my taxes are so high. But I imagine they have
to pay for the food later. The food. My God, why didn’t I think of it before?
Mark started running.

‘Sir, sir, you’ve left your hearings,’ a
voice shouted. But it was too late.

‘Some kind of nut,’ said the secretary to
Senator Stevenson.

‘Anyone who wants to read all those
hearings must be crazy to begin with,’ said Senator Stevenson, staring at the
pile of paper Mark had left behind him.

Mark went straight to Room G-211, where he
had lunched with
Lykham
the previous day. The door
was marked ‘Officials’ Dining-Room’. There were only two or three attendants in
evidence.

‘Excuse me, I wonder if you could tell me,
is this where the senators eat?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. You’d have to
talk to the hostess. We’re just cleaning up.’

‘Where might I find the hostess?’

‘She’s not here. Gone for the day. If you
come back tomorrow, maybe she can help you.’

‘Okay.’ Mark sighed. ‘Thanks. But can you
tell me - is there another Senate dining-room?’

‘Yeah, the big one in the Capitol. S-109
but you won’t be able to get in there.’

Mark ran back to the elevator and waited
impatiently. When he reached the basement level, he jumped out and walked past
the entrance to the labyrinthine tunnels which connect all the office buildings
on Capitol Hill. Past the door marked ‘Tobacco Shop’, he raced towards the
large sign - ‘Subway Cars to Capitol’. The subway car, actually just an open
train with compartments, was about to leave. Mark stepped into the last
compartment and sat down opposite a couple of Senate staffers who were
jabbering away about some bill or other, with an air of ‘we belong’.