The Chosen One (34 page)

Washington, DC, Tuesday March 28, 10.58

Somehow, despite herself, Maggie had had a decent night’s sleep. Baker had only given her one assignment and that she had promptly delegated to Uri. He had agreed to do it on the strict understanding that she went straight home to bed.

Her meeting with Baker had been awkward, no doubt about it. Trapped behind his desk in the Oval, he had blanched when she finally uttered Pamela Everett’s name, the blood seeming to drain out of his face as she watched. He had shaken his head, murmuring that this was what he had feared – what he had always feared. He began to explain, to tell Maggie what had happened that night and then he had stopped himself. ‘This is something Kim deserves to hear first.’

He glanced up at Maggie and she could see from his eyes alone that condemnation from her was unnecessary, no matter how much she wanted to express it: he was judging himself harshly enough.

He had then picked up the telephone on his desk and asked that all his meetings be cancelled until further notice, all calls held unless it was a matter of national emergency.

He had sat and listened in growing disbelief as she told him
what Waugh had told her: that he, Stephen Baker, had been spotted as a teenager, marked out for great things – that he had been their chosen one. She explained how Waugh and his predecessors had smoothed Baker’s path, removing the obstacles in his way one by one. Growing ever more pale, he said quietly, more to himself than to her, ‘My whole career has been a sham.’

Then she spelled out Waugh’s ultimatum: veto the banking bill or he would tell all. It pained her to have to say it, to be acting – even against her will – as the agent of those men. But she regarded it as her duty and, through a feat of determination, forced herself to assess and walk through each option that faced him. She wanted to put aside the shock of the moment and speak practically. She wanted, in other words, to do what Stuart had trained her to do.

He nodded and probed at the right places, responding as she sought to approach the problem from all angles, answering when she asked what level of support the banking legislation commanded in Congress, giving a view on how public opinion might respond. He even allowed her to present possible compromises that might be offered to the other side which, years of service as a negotiator had taught her, could always be found if the will was there.

He listened to it all but Maggie knew he was indulging her. His heart was not in it; his heart was not even in the room. At the end of the meeting, he simply nodded and said he had a decision to make.

They parted with a handshake, the President thanking Maggie for her ‘remarkable’ service. His last words to her were, ‘I know I’ve let you down. But I will find a way to make this right.’

And now Sanchez was on the phone, telling Maggie to switch on the TV.

‘Which channel?’

‘Any of them.’

The President was about to make a live address to the nation,
carried on all stations. A pit began to grow in Maggie’s stomach. They had discussed so many options, she realized she didn’t know which one he was going to choose. Would he fold, announcing a delay in the banking legislation, a move that would at least buy some time to take Waugh on? Would he perhaps opt for the other, riskier scenario she had put forward: that he veto the bill as Waugh had requested, only then to embark on a covert effort to find the congressional votes needed to override his veto and pass the bill into law anyway?

If he did that, defying the blackmail of AitkenBruce and the others, she would have to admire his courage, but it would spell disaster for her – and for Uri. And, given the tentacles of these people, maybe even for Liz and Calum and her mother, too.
You will pay and so will those you love
.

Yet she knew it was wrong to think of her own safety, her own needs, when something so much larger was at stake. Sure, if Baker caved she and Uri and her family would be off the hook, but what would that mean for the country? Waugh would have neutered Baker, he would have destroyed him. Everything he had planned to do – for America and beyond – would be in ruins.

What was he going to do?
She realized she had no idea – and the knot was hardening in her stomach.

And suddenly, there he was, at his desk, the stars and stripes behind him.

‘My fellow Americans. You have all been through quite a week. I apologize for my part in those events. I promised to bring a spirit of calm to Washington, to lower the temperature of our politics, and these last seven or eight days have been anything but calm.’ He flashed that Klieg-light smile of his and Maggie felt her heart contract.

‘Last night I finally discovered the true explanation for a chain of events that began with the shocking and hurtful revelations made by the late Mr Vic Forbes about my personal
past and my political funding arrangements. These events went on to include unfounded rumours linking me to his death; calls for my impeachment and the apparent suicide of my own closest advisor and best friend, the much-cherished Stuart Goldstein.’ He looked down at the table, seemed to gird himself, and carried on.

‘The details of all this and much else will come out in due course, and there will be consequences for those involved. But let me speak about something for which I alone am responsible.

‘As you know, I spent my late teenage years in a small town called Aberdeen, Washington. It was a place where even if everyone didn’t know your name, they all knew your business.’ He smiled a rueful smile. ‘People there worked hard, with their hands, and were as honest as the day was long.

‘I went off to college but I always came back for the vacations. I’d get a job, usually in the lumber yards, to pay my way. And it was during one of those vacations that I met a girl by the name of Pamela Everett. She was very sweet, she was very beautiful and if you could ever persuade her to sing for you, you’d swear you’d been given a little glimpse of heaven. And though we were too young to get married or engaged, I loved her very much and she knew it. We would stay up till late, imagining our future together.

‘Well, one night we were in a hotel together, asleep in each other’s arms. In the early hours, I suddenly woke up to see smoke seeping under the door of our room. I could feel the heat and I could smell the flames. It was a terrible, terrifying smell that I have never forgotten. I shook Pamela – but I did not stay long enough to see if she was fully awake. In the panic of that moment, I rushed out and saved myself. And though I told the firefighters she was there, I did not go back to save her. In the end, it was too late and Pamela Everett died that night.

‘What happened was the mistake of a frightened young man and not a day goes by when I do not think of it. I should have been honest about this terrible truth a long, long time ago – but I never said a word about it. Not even to those closest to me.

‘I’m telling you this now not because I’m seeking your forgiveness. What I did was so wrong, I don’t think I deserve that – not for a long time. I’m telling you because I have discovered that a handful of men – men who hide in the shadows, trying to influence the fate of our republic without ever exposing themselves to the daylight – have known about that grave mistake of mine for many years. And now they are using it to blackmail me.’

Maggie gasped with disbelief. They hadn’t discussed
this
.

‘They want me to abandon a key part of my programme – a programme you, the American people, voted for in your tens of millions last fall – in return for their silence. They believed that faced with that choice, I would save my own hide rather than do what’s right for this country I love.

‘Well, these men – who spend their lives calculating profit and loss, nickels and dimes – do not understand that you cannot put a price on the workings of the human heart or the human conscience. They calculated wrong. I know I did a dreadful thing and I intend to pay for my actions. That is why I shall resign the presidency effective at noon tomorrow. Vice President Williams will be sworn in as President at that hour in this office.

‘I know you will show him the kindness and grace you showed me. And I hope that good fortune –
true
good fortune – shines upon him.

‘May God bless his presidency. May God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America – and the precious, fragile world we all share.’

Washington, DC, Tuesday March 28, 11.07

Maggie sat, her palms flat against both sides of her face, shaking her head over and over. She wanted the correspondent gabbing on the TV to shut up, but she couldn’t move. She was frozen, not so much by shock as disappointment. In truth, it was more than that: it was a feeling she had had at the hands of two other men over the course of her life. It was heartbreak.

So that explained the assignment Baker had given her. He had asked her to draft a short summary of Bradford Williams’s career, as personal as she could make it: ‘triumphs and tragedies’, he had said. Exhausted, she had asked Uri to do it for her, to apply to Williams’s life the same laser focus he had brought to bear on Baker during the research for his film. Knowing how close to collapse Maggie was, he had worked on it all night.

She had feared this was the reason Baker had asked for such a paper; of course she had. But that made it no less awful to hear out loud. He had resigned. He had sacrificed everything he had worked for his entire life.

And then, a guiltier thought. Baker had defied AitkenBruce – and that meant she would pay. She and those she loved.

Twenty minutes later the phone rang. A female voice, level and calm: ‘Please hold for the President.’

There was a click, then another and then: ‘Maggie, I’m sorry.’

‘So am I, Mr President. And there are lots of people who feel the way I do right now, all over the world. Was there no other way?’

‘I thought about it, Maggie, I really did. I talked about it with Kim. But I couldn’t see it. Remember, no one is indispensable, Maggie. Not even me.’

‘But what about everything we believed in? Everything we worked for?’

‘Williams believes in all that, too. Truly he does. He’s a good man, Maggie. The work will go on.’ There was a pause. ‘He and I are already collaborating on the first order of business.’

‘What’s that, sir?’

‘A file detailing the evidence that links AitkenBruce and the other banks to the deaths of Forbes, Stuart and Nick du Caines – and maybe many other deaths too. Lawyers at the Department of Justice and the FBI are already on the case. They’re talking to Interpol.’

‘I’m glad to hear that, sir.’ Panic was flooding through her: she fought it down. Mastering herself, she let the silence linger and then asked, ‘What will you do now?’

‘I don’t know, Maggie. I need to think a while. But I do have one immediate plan.’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m going to fly straight from here tomorrow to Idaho and see Anne Everett. Apologize to her in person. The first of many conversations, I suspect.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve also been thinking about you, Maggie. How to protect you. We need to give you what Forbes gave himself.’

‘A blanket, sir.’

‘That’s right. A blanket.’

‘You should have one yourself.’

‘I’ll have the Secret Service looking after me and my family for the rest of our lives, Maggie. But I think I may have found a way for you to have some peace of mind.’

‘How?’

‘One of the advantages of being President is that I have access to the database of the National Security Agency. Ever since 9/11 they’ve had satellites watching all our airports in real time. “Eyes in the sky” they call them. Record everything. You just have to know where to look and you can magnify the image, hundreds of times over. They can zoom in on a baggage-handler having a smoke and tell you what paper he was reading.’

‘I don’t see how—’

‘It means, Maggie, we have footage from both Teterboro and Reagan National airports which clearly shows you being assaulted and then bundled into an aircraft registered with AitkenBruce on which Roger Waugh was the listed passenger. That footage will now be lodged with Agent Zoe Galfano and her colleagues in the Secret Service. If anything happens to you, Waugh personally – not just his bank – will be the prime suspect.’

‘Thank you, Mr President.’ She didn’t feel that she could voice her worry that that might not be enough. Hadn’t Waugh told her that he had only recently become the leader of his fellow bankers? Even if he was incapacitated surely there were others who would come after her. And Uri. And Liz – and Calum. She shuddered.

‘It’s me who needs to thank you, Maggie. For everything. I know you risked your life for me these last few days. You put yourself in harm’s way, facing men prepared to kill – and you did that for me. I will never forget that, Maggie. Just like I will never forget your passion, your devotion to
those who have no other voice but yours. You are truly a remarkable woman, Maggie Costello. And I hope one day to find a way to repay you.’

‘I don’t know what to say, Mr President.’

‘I also need to thank you for something more immediate – that paper you sent over this morning. On Vice President Williams. Very helpful.’

‘Was it, sir?’

‘Oh, yes. It confirmed what I had suspected, which made me feel all the more comfortable handing over to him.’

‘And what had you suspected, Mr President?’

‘Well, you saw what kind of career he’s had, Maggie. Tried and failed to get into Congress three times. Was forty-two years old before he got elected to anything.’

‘I see.’

‘No one smoothed Bradford Williams’s path, did they? He got there all by himself. It means nobody will have a hold over him. Except the voters, of course.’

Maggie smiled. ‘I think you’re right, sir.’

‘And do you know why that is, Maggie? Because I have a theory.’

‘What’s that, sir?’

‘Our friends the bankers didn’t bet on Bradford Williams, did they? They didn’t spot his talent. And I suspect that was for one very simple reason. They never believed a black man could become President.’