Shall We Tell the President? (31 page)

‘Yes, sir. If anybody tries anything, no
one will be able to move for half a mile.’

‘Good; what time do you have?’

‘Nine-forty-five.’

‘Right, you control it from here. I’m going
to the Capitol.’

Halt and Mark left the Assistant Director
and walked on.

‘Elliott calling the Director.’

‘Come in, Elliott.’

‘They have spotted Matson at the junction
of Maryland Avenue and 1st Street, other side of the Garfield statue,
south-west corner of the Capitol grounds, near the west front renovation site.’

‘Good. Observe and post fifty men around
the area, don’t move in yet, brief Mr Rogers and tell him to keep his men out
of Matson’s field of vision.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What the hell is he doing on that side of
the Capitol?’ said Mark softly. ‘You couldn’t shoot anyone on the Capitol steps
from the north-west side unless you were in a chopper.’

‘I agree, it beats me,’ said the Director.

They reached the police cordon surrounding
the Capitol. The Director showed his credentials to get himself and Andrews
through. The young Capitol policeman double-checked them; he couldn’t believe
it; he was looking at the real live object. Yes, it was the Director of the
FBI. H. A. L. Tyson himself.

‘Sorry, sir. Please come through.’

‘Elliott to the Director.’

‘Yes, Elliott?’

‘Head of the Secret Service for you, sir.’

‘Stuart.’

‘The advance car is leaving the front gate
now. Julius will leave in five minutes.’

‘Thank you, Stuart. Keep your end up and
surprise me.’

‘Don’t worry, Halt. We will.’

Five minutes later, the Presidential car
left the South Entrance and turned left on to E Street. The advance car passed
the Chairman on the corner of
Pennsylvania
Avenue
and 9th. He smiled, lit another cigarette
and waited. Five minutes later, a large
Lincoln
,
flags flying on both front fenders, the Presidential Seal on the doors, passed
by the Chairman. Through the misty grey windows, he could see three figures in
the back. A limousine known as the ‘gun car’ and occupied by Secret Service
agents and the President’s personal physician followed the President’s car. The
Chairman pressed a button on his watch.

The vibrator began to tickle his wrist.
After ten seconds, he stopped it, walked one block north and hailed a taxi.

‘National
Airport
,’
he said to the cab driver, fingering the ticket in his inside pocket.

The vibrator on Matson’s watch was touching
his skin. After ten seconds, it stopped. Matson walked to the side of the
construction site, bent down and tied his shoelace.

Xan
started to take off the tape. He was glad to be moving; he had been
bent double all night. First he screwed the barrel into the sight finder.

‘Assistant Director to Director, Matson is
approaching the construction site. Now he has stopped to tie his shoe. No one
on the construction site but I’m asking a helicopter to check it out. There’s a
huge crane in the middle of the site which looks deserted.’

‘Good. Stay put until the last minute. I’ll
give you the timing the moment the President’s car arrives. You must catch them
red-handed. Alert all agents on the roof of the Capitol.’

The Director turned to Mark, more relaxed.
‘I think it’s going to be all right.’

Mark’s eyes were on the steps of the
Capitol.

‘Have you noticed, sir, both Senator Dexter
and Senator Harrison are in the welcoming party for the President?’

‘Yes,’ said the Director. ‘The car is due
to arrive in two minutes; we’ll catch the others even if we can’t figure out
which Senator it is. We’ll make them talk in due course. Wait a minute - that’s
odd.’

The Director’s finger was running down a
couple of closely typed sheets he held in his hand.

‘Yes, that’s what I thought. The
President’s detailed schedule shows that Dexter will be there for the special
address to Congress but isn’t attending the luncheon with the President. Very
strange: I’m sure all the key leaders of the opposition were invited to lunch.
Why won’t Dexter be present?’

‘Nothing strange about that, sir. He always
has lunch with his daughter on Thursdays. Good God! “I always have lunch with
my father on Thursdays.”‘

‘Yes, Mark, I heard you the first time.’

‘No, sir, “I always have lunch with my
father on Thursdays.”
^?

‘Mark, the car will be here in one minute.’

‘It’s Harrison, sir. It’s
Harrison
.
I’m a fool - Thursday, 24 February, in
Georgetown
.
I always thought of it as 24 February, not as Thursday. Dexter was having lunch
with
Elizabeth
.
“I always have lunch with my father on Thursdays.” That’s why he was seen in
Georgetown
that day, must
be. They never miss it.’

‘Are you sure? Can you be certain? There’s
a hell of a lot riding on it.’

‘It’s Harrison, sir. It can’t be Dexter. I
should have realised it on the first day. Christ, I’m stupid.’

‘Right, Mark. Up those steps quickly, watch
Harrison’s every move and be prepared to arrest him whatever the consequences.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Rogers.’

The Assistant Director came in. ‘Sir?’

‘The car is pulling up. Arrest Matson
immediately; check the roof of the Capitol.’ The Director stared up into the
sky. ‘Oh my God, it’s not a helicopter, it’s that damn crane. It has to be the
crane.’

Xan
nestled the butt of the yellow rifle into his shoulder and watched
the President’s car. He had attached a feather to a piece of thread on the end
of the gun barrel, a trick he had picked up when training for the Olympics - no
wind. The hours of waiting were coming to an end. Senator Harrison was standing
there on the Capitol steps. Through the thirty-power Redfield scope he could
even see the beads of sweat standing out on the man’s forehead.

The President’s car drew up on the north
side of the Capitol. All was going according to plan.
Xan
levelled the telescopic sight on the car door and waited for Kane. Two Secret
Service men climbed out, scanned the crowd, and waited for the third. Nothing
happened.
Xan
put the sight on the Senator, who
looked anxious and bemused. Back at the car, still no Kane. Where the hell was
she, what was going on? He checked the feather; still no wind. He moved his
sight back on the President’s car. Good God, the crane was moving and Kane
wasn’t in the car. Matson had been right all along, they knew everything.
Xan
knew exactly what had to be done in these
circumstances. Only one man could ditch them and he wouldn’t hesitate to do it.
Xan
moved his sight up the Capitol steps. One and
one-half inches above the forehead. A moment’s hesitation before he squeezed
the trigger once . . . twice, but the second time he didn’t have a clear shot,
and a fraction of a second later he could no longer see the Capitol steps. He
looked down from the moving crane. He was surrounded by fifty men in dark
suits, fifty guns were pointing up at him.

Mark was about a yard away from Senator
Harrison when he heard him cry out and fall. Mark jumped on top of the Senator
and the second bullet grazed his shoulder. There was a panic among the other
senators and officials on the top steps. The welcoming party scurried inside.
Thirty FBI men moved in quickly. The Director was the only man who remained on
the Capitol steps, steady and motionless, staring up at the crane. They hadn’t
nicknamed him Halt by mistake.

‘May I ask where I’m going, Stuart?’

‘Certainly, Madam President. To the
Capitol.’

‘But this isn’t the normal route to the
Capitol.’

‘No, Madam. We’re going down Constitution
Avenue to the
Russell
Building
. We hear there
has been a little trouble at the Capitol. A demonstration of some kind. The
National Rifle Association.’

‘So I’m avoiding it, am I? Like a coward,
Stuart.’

‘No, Madam, I’m slipping you through the
basement. Just as a safety precaution and for your own convenience.’

‘That means I’ll have to go on that damned
subway. Even when I was a senator, I preferred to walk outside.’

‘We’ve cleared the way for you, Madam.
You’ll still be there bang on time.’

The President grumbled as she looked out of
the window and saw an ambulance race in the opposite direction.

Senator Harrison died before he reached the
hospital and Mark had his wound patched up by a house doctor. Mark checked his
watch and laughed. It was 11:04 - he was going to live.

‘Phone for you, Mr Andrews. The Director of
the FBI.’

‘Sir?’

‘Mark, I hear you’re fine. Good. I am sorry
to say the Senate went into recess out of respect for Senator Harrison. The
President is shocked but feels this is precisely the moment to emphasise the
significance of gun control, so we’re all now going into lunch early. Sorry you
can’t join us. And we caught three of them - Matson, a Vietnamese sharpshooter,
and a petty crook called Tony
Loraido
. There may
still be more, I’ll let you know later. Thank you, Mark.’

The telephone clicked before Mark could
offer any opinion.

Thursday evening, 10 March

7:00 pm Mark arrived in
Georgetown
at seven that evening. He had gone
to Simon’s wake and paid his respects to the bewildered parents that afternoon.
They had five other children, but that never helped. Their grief made Mark long
for the warmth of the living.

Elizabeth was wearing the red silk shirt
and black skirt in which he had first seen her. She greeted him with a cascade
of words.

‘I don’t understand what’s been going on.
My father called earlier and told me you tried to save Senator Harrison’s life.
What were you doing there anyway? My father is very upset about the shooting.
Why have you been following him around? Was he in any danger?’

Mark looked at her squarely. ‘No, he wasn’t
involved in any way so let’s try and start over again.’

Still she didn’t understand.

When they arrived at the Rive Gauche, the
maitre
d’ welcomed them with open arms.

‘Good evening, Mr Andrews, how nice to see
you again. I don’t remember your booking a table.’

‘No, it’s in my name. Dr Dexter,’ said
Elizabeth
.

‘Oh, yes, Doctor, of course. Will you come
this way?
^’

They had baked clams and, at last, a steak
with no fancy trimmings and two bottles of wine.

Mark sang most of the way home. When they
arrived, he took her firmly by the hand and led her into the darkened living-room.

‘I’m going to seduce you. No coffee, no
brandy, no music, just straightforward seduction.’

‘I should be so lucky.’

They fell on the couch.

‘You’re too drunk,’
Elizabeth
added.

‘Wait and see.’ He kissed her fully on the lips
for a long time and started to unbutton her shirt.

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like some
coffee?’ she asked.

‘Yes, quite sure,’ he said as he pulled the
shirt slowly free from her skirt and felt her back, his other hand moving on to
her leg.

‘What about some music?’ she said lightly.
‘Something special.’
Elizabeth
touched the start button on the hi-fi. It was Sinatra again, but this time it
was
theright
song:

Is it an earthquake or simply a shock, Is
it the real turtle soup or merely the mock, Is it a cocktail, this feeling of
joy, Or is what I feel - the real - McCoy?

Is it for all time or simply a lark, Is it
Granada
I see or only
Asbury Park
,

Is it a fancy not worth thinking of, Or is
it at... long... last. .. love?

She settled back into Mark’s arms.

He unzipped her skirt. Her legs were
slender and beautiful in the dim light. He caressed her gently.

‘Are you going to tell me the truth about
today, Mark?’

‘Afterwards, darling.’

‘When you’ve had your way with me,’ she
said.

He slipped his shirt off.
Elizabeth
stared at the bandage on his
shoulder.

‘Is that where you were wounded in the line
of duty?’

‘No, that’s where my last lover bit me.’

‘She must have had more time than I did.’

They moved closer together.

He took the phone off the hook - not
tonight, Julius.

‘I can’t get through, sir,’ Elliott said,
‘just a continual busy signal.’

‘Try again, try again. I’m sure he’s
there.’

‘Shall I go through the operator?’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the Director testily.

The Director waited, tapping his fingers on
the Queen Anne desk, staring at the red stain and wondering how it had got
there.

‘The operator says the phone is off the
hook, sir. Shall I ask her to bleep him; that’ll certainly get his attention.’

‘No, Elliott, just leave it and
go
home.
I’ll have to call him in the morning.’

‘Yes, sir. Good night, sir.’

He’ll have to go - back to
Idaho
or wherever he
came from, thought the Director, as he switched off the lights and made his own
way home.