The Fourth K (48 page)

“What is your full name?”

“Francis Xavier Kennedy.”

“What is your occupation?”

“President of the United States.”

“Did you in any way conspire to have the atom bomb explode in New York?”

“No, I did not.”

“Did you have any knowledge that could have prevented its explosion?”

“No, I did not,” Kennedy answered. And inside the black cylinder his words seemed to fall back like the wind on his face.

Dr. Annaccone watched the computer screen above his head.

The computer showed the patterns form in the blue mass of the brain so elegantly formed in Kennedy’s curving skull.

The staff watched apprehensively.

But no telltale yellow dot, no red circle appeared.

“The President is telling the truth,” Dr. Annaccone said.

Christian Klee felt his knees buckling. He knew he could not pass such a test.

“I don’t understand how he passed it,” Christian Klee said.

The Oracle said with contempt that barely came across because of the frailties of his age, “So now our civilization has an infallible test, a scientific test, mind you, for determining whether a man tells the truth. And the first person who takes it lies and gets away with it. ‘We can now solve the darkest riddles of innocence and guilt!’ What a laugh. Men and women deceive themselves continually. I’m a hundred years old and I still don’t know whether my life was a truth or a lie. I really don’t know.”

Christian had retrieved his cigar from the Oracle and now he lit it and that small circle of fire made the Oracle’s face a mask in a museum.

“I let that atom bomb go off,” Christian said. “I’m responsible for that. And when I take that PET scan I will know
the truth and so will the scanner. But I thought I understood Kennedy better than anybody. I could always read him. He
wanted
me
not
to interrogate Gresse and Tibbot. He
wanted
that explosion to happen. Then how the hell did he pass that test?”

“If the brain were that simple, we would be too simple to understand it,” the Oracle said. “That was the wit of your Dr. Annaccone and I suggest that is your answer. Kennedy’s brain refused to acknowledge his guilt. Therefore, the computer in the scanner says he is innocent. You and I know better, for I believe what you say. But he will be forever innocent even in his own heart.”

“Unlike Kennedy, I am forever guilty.”

“Cheer up,” the Oracle said. “You only killed ten or was it twenty thousand people? Your only hope is to refuse to take the test.”

“I promised Francis,” Christian said. “And the media will crucify me for refusing.”

“Then why the hell did you agree to take it?” the Oracle said.

“I thought Francis was bluffing,” Christian said. “I thought he couldn’t afford to take the test and that he would back down. That’s why I insisted he take the test first.”

The Oracle showed his impatience by running the motor on his wheelchair. “Climb up on the Statue of Liberty,” he said. “Claim your civil rights and your human dignity. You’ll get away with it. Nobody wants to see such infernal science become a legal instrument.”

“Sure,” Christian said. “That’s what I have to do. But Francis will know I’m guilty.”

The Oracle said, “Christian, if that test asked you whether you were a villain, what would you answer, in all truthfulness?”

Christian laughed, genuinely laughed. “I would answer that no, I wasn’t a villain. And I’d pass. That’s really funny.” Gratefully he pressed the Oracle’s shoulder. “I won’t forget about your birthday party,” he said.

It was Vice President Du Pray who reacted most quickly and most angrily to Klee’s statement. She said, “Do you realize that if you refuse you must resign and even then this stance of yours will do great damage to the presidency?”

“I don’t see that at all,” Klee said. “Do I have to agree to let guys like Annaccone scramble my brain just to keep my job? Or do you think I’m really guilty?” He could see the answer in her eyes and thought he had never seen so handsome a hanging judge. Defensively he added, “There’s the Constitution of the United States. I have the individual freedom to refuse such a test.”

Otto Gray said sternly, “You’re not so keen on the Constitution when it comes to criminals. You’re eager to ship them off to Alaska.”

Klee said, “Ah, Otto, you don’t believe I did it. Do you?” and was relieved when Otto said, “Of course I don’t, but you should take the test.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Or resign.”

Klee turned to Wix and Dazzy. “How about you two?” he asked and smiled at them.

It was Wix who answered first. He said, “I don’t have the slightest doubt you’re innocent, the charges against you are pure bullshit. But if you refuse to take the brain-scan test you will be guilty in the mind of the public. And then you must leave this administration.”

Klee turned to Dazzy. “Eugene?”

Dazzy would not look at him and Dazzy owed him, Klee
thought. Then Dazzy said with a judicious air, “You have to take the test, Christian. Even resigning won’t help us much. We’ve already announced you would take it, as you agreed you would. Why this change of mind? Surely you’re not afraid?”

“I promised to show my loyalty to Francis Kennedy,” Klee said. “Now I’ve thought it over and decided the risk is too great.”

Dazzy sighed. “I sure as hell wish you had thought it over sooner. As for your resignation, I think that is up to the President.”

They all looked at Francis Kennedy. His face was dead white, his eyes, which were usually so pale, seemed to be a darker and deeper blue. But his voice was surprisingly gentle when he spoke to Klee. “Christian,” he said, “can I persuade you on the basis of our long and close friendship? I took the test and the risk because I thought it was important for our country and the presidency. And because I was innocent. You’ve never failed me, Christian. I count on you.”

For one moment Klee felt hatred for Francis Kennedy. How could this man conceal his own guilt from himself? And why this best friend of his putting him on the cross of truth? But he said calmly, “I just can’t do it, Francis.”

Kennedy said soberly, “That’s it, then. I don’t want you to resign, I won’t let you suffer that indignity. Now let’s go on.”

Dazzy said, “Do we make a statement to the press?”

“No,” Kennedy said. “If they ask, say the Attorney General has the flu and will take the test when he is recovered. That will give us a month’s time.”

“And in a month?” Dazzy said.

“We’ll rethink it then,” Kennedy said.

•  •  •

President Kennedy summoned Theodore Tappey, the CIA director, to a private meeting in the Yellow Oval Room. He excluded everyone, he wanted no witnesses, no recording.

Kennedy wasted no time on civilities. There was no window dressing of a leisurely tea. He spoke curtly to Tappey. “Theo, we have a big problem that only you and I understand. And only you and I can solve.”

“I’ll do my best, Mr. President,” Tappey said. And Kennedy saw the feral look in his eyes. He scented blood.

“Everything we say here has the highest security classification, it has executive privilege,” Kennedy said. “You are not to repeat this to anyone, not even members of my staff.” That was when Tappey knew the matter was extremely sensitive because Kennedy cut his staff in on everything.

“It’s Yabril,” Kennedy said. “I’m sure”—he smiled—“I’m positive, you’ve thought this all out. Yabril will go on trial. That will rake up all the resentments against America. He will get convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. But somewhere down the line there will be a terrorist action that takes important hostages. One demand will be to release Yabril. By that time I won’t be President and so Yabril will go free. Still a dangerous man.”

Kennedy had caught the sight of skepticism in Tappey. The sign was no sign, Tappey was too experienced in deception. His face simply lost all expression, all animation in the eyes, the contour of the lips. He had made himself a blank so as not to be read.

But now Tappey smiled. “You must have read the internal memos my counterintelligence chief has been giving me. That’s exactly what he says.”

“So how do we prevent all this?” Kennedy asked. But it was a rhetorical question and Tappey did not answer.

Kennedy decided the time had come. “I assure you I can persuade Yabril to take the brain test. I’ll take care of him. The public needs to know that the results of the test will link the atom bomb to Yabril and prove once and for all that this was a global conspiracy. We can clear Christian and go after those kids—stage a manhunt and bring them to justice at least.”

For the very first time in their relationship, Kennedy saw Tappey looking at him with the shrewd appraising eye of a fellow conspirator. He knew that Tappey thought things out far ahead. “We don’t really need Yabril’s answers, do we?”

“No,” Kennedy said.

Tappey asked, “Is Christian in on this?”

This was difficult for Kennedy. And this was not even the hardest part. He said slowly, “Forget about Christian.”

Tappey nodded. Tappey was with him. Tappey understood. Tappey was now looking at Kennedy as a servant might look at a master who was about to ask of him a service that would bind them together forever.

“I guess I don’t get anything in writing,” Tappey said.

“No,” Kennedy said. “I am going to give you specific instructions right now.”

“Be very specific,” Theodore Tappey said, “if you will, Mr. President.”

Kennedy smiled at the coolness of the response. “Dr. Annaccone would never do it,” he said. “A year ago I myself would never have dreamed of doing it.”

“I understand, Mr. President,” Tappey said.

Kennedy knew there could be no further hesitation. “After Yabril agrees to take the test, I switch him to your CIA medical section. Your medical team does the scan. They give the test.” He could see the look in Tappey’s eyes, the waver of doubt, not of moral outrage, but doubt of feasibility.

“We’re not talking murder here,” Kennedy said impatiently. “I’m not that stupid or that immoral. And if I wanted that done, I’d be talking to Christian.”

Tappey was waiting.

Kennedy knew he had to say the fatal words. “I swear that I ask this for the protection of our country. Whether he’s in prison or released, Yabril must no longer be a danger. I want your medical team to go to the extreme limit of the test. According to Dr. Annaccone, it was under that protocol that the side effects occurred. And complete memory was erased. A man without memory, without beliefs and convictions, is harmless. He will live a peaceful life.”

Kennedy recognized the look in Tappey’s eyes—it was the look of one predator who has discovered another strange species its equal in ferocity.

“Can you assemble a team that will do that?” Kennedy asked.

“When I explain the situation to them,” Tappey said. “They would never have been recruited if they were not devoted to their country.”

In the dark hours of that night, Theodore Tappey escorted Yabril to Kennedy’s quarters. Again the meeting was short and Kennedy was all business. There was no tea, there were no civilities. Kennedy began immediately, he presented his proposal.

Kennedy said to Yabril, “It is very important for America to know whether you were part of the conspiracy of the atom bomb. To erase its fears. It is important to you that your name be cleared in this particular matter. Now, it is true that you will go to trial for your other crimes and you will be sentenced to life imprisonment. But I will promise you that I will allow you to communicate with your friends in the outside world. Let us presume they will be loyal enough to
create a hostage situation and demand your release. I would be inclined to agree to such a demand. But I can do that only if you are cleared of guilt in the atom bomb explosion.… I see you have some doubts.”

Yabril shrugged and said, “I find your offer too generous.”

Kennedy summoned all his strength to do what he had to do. He remembered Yabril charming his daughter, Theresa, before putting a gun to her neck. Such charm would not work with Yabril. He could only persuade this man by convincing him of his own strict morality.

“I am doing this to erase fear from the mind of my country,” Kennedy said. “That is my greatest concern. My pleasure would be to have you remain in prison forever. So I make this offer out of my sense of duty.”

“Then why are you taking such pains to convince me?” Yabril asked.

“It’s not in my nature to perform my duty as a matter of form,” Kennedy said, and he could see that Yabril was beginning to believe this too, believe that he was a moral man and could be trusted within that morality. Again he summoned the image of Theresa and her belief in Yabril’s kindness. Then he said to Yabril, “You were outraged at the suggestion that your people engineered the explosion of an atom bomb. Here is the chance to clear your name and the names of your comrades. Why not take it? Do you fear you will not pass the test? That is always a possibility—it occurs to me now, though I don’t really believe it.”

Yabril looked directly into Kennedy’s eyes. “I don’t believe that any man can forgive what I have done to you.” He was silent. He looked weary. But he was not deceived. It was the very essence of American corruption to make such a proposition to achieve an immoral political aim.

He knew nothing of what had happened in the last six
months. He had been isolated for deep interrogations. Kennedy pressed on. “Taking this test is your only hope of freedom. Provided you pass it, of course,” he said.

Kennedy sighed. “I don’t forgive you. But I understand your actions. I understand you feel you did what you did to help our world. As I do what I do now. And it is within my powers. We are different men, I cannot do what you do, and you, I mean you no disrespect, cannot do what I am doing now. To let you go free.”

Almost with sorrow, he saw he had convinced Yabril. He continued his persuasion, he used all his wit, all his charm, his appearance of integrity. He projected all the images of what he had once been, of what Yabril had known him to be, before he forfeited the whole of himself to convince Yabril. He knew he was finally successful when he saw the smile on Yabril’s face was one of pity and contempt. He knew then that he had won Yabril’s trust.