Capitol Conspiracy (17 page)

Did he really need to ask? Mike was law enforcement, a dedicated cop who spent half their time together griping about defense attorneys and the laws that made it so difficult to catch and convict criminals. He knew what Mike would want.

“Thank you, Director Lehman,” Chairman Perkins said. “I think you’ve given us all something to think about.” He glanced down at the itinerary on his desk. “And for our next witness…the chair calls Senator Benjamin Kincaid.”

Tracy Sobel gently touched Ben’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Ben drew in his breath, then slowly released it. “I’m ready.”

23

225 B
LEEKER
S
TREET
W
ESTBURY
, M
ARYLAND

“I
—I can’t breathe,” she gasped, barely able to speak. “You’re killing me!”

The man did not respond. His lips pressed together as he tightened his grip around her throat.

“You’re—choking—” The color drained from her face. She tried to struggle, but it was useless. Her arms were fastened behind her, and he was directly on top of her. “Please—please—”

The man pressed his thumb against her trachea, cutting off the flow of air to her lungs.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but the blockage of her air passage made it impossible. All that came out was a creaking noise, a whisper of what she was trying to say: “…strangling…me…”

He bore down on her with even greater force, watching as her eyes rolled back into her head. All the color drained from her face and she looked almost vampirish, like a body that might be found in the coroner’s office under a sheet.

Their hips continued to rock back and forth together, two bodies acting with one motion, even as her eyelids fluttered and she cried out.

With one final burst of energy, she began thrusting her hips upward uncontrollably, moving what little she could, feeling her consciousness slowly fading as the pleasure became almost unbearably intense.

“Oh, God.” Her voice was but the murmur of a whisper. “Oh, Godddddd…”

He pounded all the harder, faster, with a rhythmic insistence. She relinquished herself to it, letting her body melt into his, feeling the warm press of his hands on her throat.

“Oh, Godddddd…”

She kicked him, her secret signal to him that the time was now upon her. He accelerated one final time, thrusting against her with a growing urgency until he felt the arch of her back and the trembling of her body that told him that she had climaxed. A second later, he released her throat.

After it was all over, he untied her hands and she tumbled into his arms, coughing and gasping and crying all at once.

“Oh my God, Jason. That was…that was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

“Good, baby. I’m glad.”

“How—” she said breathlessly, still gulping for air. “How do you do it? Time and time again.”

He pressed her head against his chest. “I know my lady.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yes. My Belinda likes a bit of danger. A lot of danger. Parking garages where anyone might walk in. Spankings that you can’t control and can’t stop. Erotic asphyxiation.”

“That felt so…intense.”

“People feel the most powerful orgasms when they’re on the brink of death. Asphyxiation stimulates sexual excitement. It’s a scientific fact. That’s why hanged men often die with a hard-on.”

“How do you know these things?”

“Call it a hobby.” He brushed his hand softly against her raven hair. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Oh, God yes. God. Yes.”

He took her head in his hand and gently raised her chin. “You seem as if you have something on your mind. Any regrets?”

“The only thing on my mind is—how long before we can do it again?”

They lay in bed together, naked, Belinda drifting gently in and out of sleep. “My God,” she murmured. “If the girls at Bryn Mawr could see me now.”

“They’d probably want to join you for a ménage à trois.”

She slapped him on the shoulder. “You are so naughty.”

“And you love it.”

“Yes,” she said, rubbing her naked leg against his thigh. “I do.”

“Don’t start anything,” Jason said, still staring at the papers in his lap.

“You like your work more than you like me.”

“Obviously not. Since I’m not only not doing what my boss told me to do, but screwing his wife.” He kissed the top of her head. “Give a guy fifteen minutes to recharge, okay?”

“Fifteen minutes? You’re getting old.”

“Compared to whom? Your husband?”

“Mmm. Good point. Speaking of whom—is there any chance he might make a surprise early trip home?”

“None. I set his schedule, remember? He’ll be at Homeland Security all day.”

“Doing what?”

“Don’t ask me. It’s very hush-hush. Even before the Oklahoma City attack, he was spending an inordinate amount of time up there. And now with this amendment in the air, they have even more to talk about.”

She snuggled closer, glancing with blurry eyes at the papers he was reading. “Whatcha reading?”

“This is some fascinating research I found on the Internet.”

“About the amendment?”

“About how to make ricin poison.”

Her spine suddenly stiffened. “You were serious.”

“Damn right I was serious. Do you know how easy this stuff is to concoct? You can buy the ingredients at the grocery store. The chemistry isn’t that complex, either.”

“And you learned this on the Internet?”

“Hey—it’s not just for terrorists anymore.”

They both laughed over that one.

“Jason,” she said quietly, after the merriment faded. “I’m—I’m not sure I really want you to do this.”

He put his papers aside and stared at her with an expression that indicated little patience for this conversation. “Well, there are two problems with that. First, you do want it—you just don’t want the guilt attendant to admitting that you want it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Of course it is. Are you seriously suggesting that you want to go back to a sexless, loveless life with that old codger? Living off the paltry allowance he gives you? No, you don’t. And secondly—this is not something
I’m
going to do. It’s something
we’re
going to do.”

“I—I wouldn’t know how.”

“It’s simple enough. I’ll mix up the ricin. You get it on your husband’s mail and make sure he’s the one who opens it.”

“Isn’t there a simpler way?”

“Of course there is. There are a million simpler ways to kill someone. But anytime a married person gets murdered, the police immediately suspect the spouse. And nothing personal, but I’m not sure that blue-blooded etiquette-school training prepared you for third-degree questioning by the D.C. cops. So we need to do it in a way that looks like something you couldn’t possibly do, something that will be attributed to the same terrorists who took out Senator Hammond.” He smiled. “Ricin-laced letters. It’s a classic.”

She stared at him long and hard. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Haven’t
you
?”

“Well…”

“You haven’t considered how nice it would be to have a young lover without worrying about your rich and powerful husband finding out? You haven’t contemplated the pleasure of having all that money you’ll inherit to yourself, of being able to spend it as you wish?”

“Won’t you be out of a job?”

“Not unless I want to be. At least half a dozen of your hubby’s colleagues have tried to steal me away. But I really don’t plan to be a chief of staff all my life.”

She placed her hand on his hairy chest. “You want to run for office, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t everyone in this town? And with your money—I’ll be able to do it.”

“You think you could win.”

“I think I’ll be invincible. I know the Senate better than anyone. Know all the right people. Know what I have to say and do to get the big contributions from the PACs and the lobbyists. And I’ll have a really hot ex-senator’s wife who’s willing to do anything for me.”

She pushed herself up on her elbows. “You presume a good deal! Maybe I don’t want to play a part in this twisted scheme.”

“Or maybe you do. Maybe you’re just playing hard to get in the hopes that I’ll go down on you.”

“Jason!”

He laid his papers on the floor and rolled over. “Don’t bother. I know what you want.” He sighed. “Back to the salt mines.”

“Jason!”

He dove under the covers and went to work.

“Jason. Jason, listen to me. I just don’t know if…” But a second later he made contact and she lost whatever objection she had considered lodging. She liked the way he made her feel. She never got enough of it. She would do anything to make it continue, to feel him licking her and fondling her, making her head swim and her heart pound and her entire body feel like a woman’s body is supposed to feel. She wanted it to continue. She wanted it to go on forever.

And for that, killing her revolting husband seemed a very small price to pay.

24

T
HE
O
LD
S
ENATE
C
AUCUS
R
OOM

T
he sergeant at arms met Ben halfway to the front table. Ben raised his right hand and laid the other on the Bible proffered. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

Chairman Perkins tapped his gavel. “Please take your seat, Senator Kincaid.”

Ben pulled out the chair at the center table and tried not to think about the unblinking eye of the camera that he knew was now poised upon him, beaming his likeness to countless millions of televisions across the country, perhaps across the world. His knees were already wobbly and he knew it would not take much to give his whole body the shakes, something that would probably not make a great impression on the committee, much less the television audience.

Chairman Perkins cleared his throat. “I understand that you have a few remarks you would like to make before we begin questioning, Senator.”

“Yes, Mr. Chairman, I do.” All of a sudden, Ben seriously wished he had kept the script Tracy Sobel had offered him. It was the usual political claptrap, rhetorical questions and stacked arguments and such, but at least he wouldn’t have to think. Because right at the moment, he was having a hard time with the thinking.

“I have been asked to give my thoughts regarding the proposed Constitutional amendment this committee is considering.” Sobel had asked him not to refer to it as the president’s amendment out of respect to Congress, which has the constitutional authority to start the amendment process. “Let me begin by saying that, as a lawyer, I understand the gravity involved in any effort to amend the Constitution. Once done, it can only be undone by another amendment. No court can declare the law invalid; a law which is part of the Constitution is by definition constitutional. Therefore, this consideration is perhaps the most important of any proposed laws this body has the possibility of adopting.”

Ben made the mistake of looking at the television camera; the red light was on and he knew what that meant. The world was watching. His mouth went dry. A cold clamminess spread across his entire body. He struggled to keep it together.

“We have amended this Constitution relatively few times since the Bill of Rights, and the most important of those have come about when there was a sense of great need, either just before, during, or after times of great crisis. I will suggest to you that this is another such time.”

Good God, what was it Sobel wanted him to be sure to say? He couldn’t remember. Oh—right. “It may seem strange to some of you that I, a criminal defense attorney, favor a bill that some see as an abridgement of the Bill of Rights. But if this amendment becomes part of the Constitution, then by definition, no rights have been abridged. The law has changed. Our laws, including the Bill of Rights and the way we interpret them, have changed repeatedly throughout the history of this nation. It would be strange indeed if now, after all this nation has been through, they did not change again. Who can deny that recent years have witnessed violence of a magnitude never before imagined outside of a war battleground? The first attack on the World Trade Center, the bombing of the Murrah Building, 9/11. And now this most recent horror. While the death toll does not approach that of the previous two tragedies, in many ways, the shock value was greater. In this instance, viewers all across the nation witnessed a blatant attempt to take out the head of our government—which came dangerously close to success. We lost our first lady, one of the most beloved women in American history. If for no other reason, in the memory of that dear lady, we must take action to see that nothing like that is ever repeated. To ensure that the people of this nation are as safe as it is possible to be in this modern world. That is why I urge each and every one of you to give the strongest consideration to lending your support to this proposal, and to allow it to leave the committee for a vote of the full Senate.”

Ben resisted the temptation to add “Whew!”

As he scanned the faces of the senators on the committee, he saw very little indication of how any of them were disposed to vote. In fact, he saw little of anything. Had he put them to sleep?

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Tracy Sobel, her arms folded across her chest, obviously unhappy. And he knew why. As far as they could tell from the unofficial polling that had taken place nonstop since the amendment had first been proposed, the committee appeared to be evenly divided. If there was to be any chance of this getting to the Senate floor, someone—several someones, perhaps—was going to have to change their minds. That was the job they had chosen Ben to do, because he had the potential to be emotional and dramatic. Instead, he had come across like a robot, carefully analyzing the pros and cons and coming up with a logical but unexciting conclusion.

If logic were enough to win the day, Ben’s participation would not have been requested or required. They needed more. He hadn’t delivered.

“Will you take questions, Senator Kincaid?”

Hell, no, he wanted to say, but he went with, “Of course.”

Senator Scolieri from Ohio was the first to speak. “Senator, as a Republican, I’m getting a lot of mail from people who are concerned that this amendment represents an erosion of civil rights, and that once those rights are removed, we may never retrieve them. I’m curious what you, as a Democrat, would say in response.”

“I would say that the Emergency Security Council, if it is ever convened, is a temporary measure.”

“But how temporary? The amendment puts no limitations on how long an emergency state can be sustained.”

“Realistically, Senator, I don’t think there’s any way it could. We can’t predict the future. We have to give the Council the power it needs to get the job done.”

“But what is the job?” asked Senator Keyes, a Texan Republican. Keyes had been chairman of the Judiciary Committee during the Roush confirmation, and Ben’s archenemy throughout the entire proceeding. But now that they appeared to be on the same side, for all you could tell, he and Keyes were the closest of friends. What was that expression about politics and bedfellows? “Shouldn’t there be some explanation of what constitutes an emergency situation? Otherwise, doesn’t the Council have too much leeway?”

“I think any attempt to define what constitutes an emergency situation would either be so vague as to be pointless or so specific as to render the amendment ineffectual. Could the Founding Fathers have predicted that one day a foreign nation would be able to threaten us without leaving their own borders? Obviously not. Could they predict airplanes being used as weapons, or ricin powder in the mail, or contaminants capable of poisoning entire water supplies? No. And sadly, I am certain that the years to come will introduce new threats we couldn’t begin to discuss or describe today. The amendment must remain open-ended so it will be capable of adapting to a changing world.”

Ben glanced over his shoulder. Sobel seemed slightly more pleased. At least, he supposed, the question-and-answer session was more animated than his lame little speech had been. But he knew she wanted more. Moreover—he knew they needed more if they were going to get this amendment out of committee.

The time for the softball questions had passed, as the chairman shifted his gaze from the Republicans to the Democrats. How ironic—the hostile questioning would come from Ben’s own party.

“I have a question.” This came from Senator Lucy Largent, a liberal Democrat from California. “Senator Kincaid, this amendment appears to me to put an enormous amount of power in the hands of the director of Homeland Security. Are we taking a terribly big risk here? Putting so much power in the hands of one person?”

“The Constitution already puts a great deal of power in the hands of one person. The President of the United States.”

“But the president is elected by the people. The director of Homeland Security is appointed.”

“By the president, who is elected by the people,” Ben replied succinctly. “We all know that the president appoints unelected officers who wield great governmental power. His cabinet members. Federal judges.”

“Even those officers can be recalled or impeached. I don’t see any provision that would allow anyone to replace or impeach any member of this Emergency Security Council.”

“The president always has the right to replace the people he appoints, other than federal judges. Quietly calling for the resignations of those who have displeased the Oval Office is a common facet of modern political life. If the president doesn’t like the job being done by the directors of Homeland Security, the FBI, or the CIA, he can replace them.”

“What if he calls for a resignation and the appointee refuses?”

“I think that is unlikely.”

“I don’t think we can know what someone might do if they’re given power of this magnitude,” Senator Largent said, obviously not placated.

“Would it be better if the amendment gave this power directly to the president, so that he or she could unilaterally decide to suspend civil rights—like Abraham Lincoln did during the Civil War?” Ben paused, letting them all ponder that for a moment. “I don’t think so. We are much safer having a committee composed of the top law enforcement officials in the country making the critical decisions. The director of Homeland Security may be the chairman, but he or she is still only one member of the Council. I think this amendment has been structured so as to give the rights of the American people the maximum protection possible while still ensuring safety during a time of crisis.”

“You’ve just explicated an implied prioritization that gives me great concern,” said Senator Cole Stevens, a Democrat from Vermont. In Ben’s experience, the man always talked more like a college professor than a politician. How he ever managed to get elected—three times—was beyond Ben’s comprehension. “This amendment esentially says civil rights are swell, but security is more important.”

“Frankly,” Ben said, “I think you’re right, and I have no problem with that, and I don’t think the Founding Fathers would have, either. We all know that we will have no civil rights if we lose our freedom. Without liberty, there are no civil liberties.”

“You’re giving me slogans, not answers,” Senator Stevens insisted.

“I disagree.”

“I wasn’t finished. You’re giving me slogans, and to be perfectly honest, I’m shocked. Isn’t your conscience bothering you at all?”

Ben did not respond.

“As far as I can tell, Mr. Kincaid, your whole career has been about defending the rights of the people, protecting the innocent, making sure no one is railroaded by the mighty machine we know as the American government. And now you come out in favor of this amendment which flies in the face of everything you’ve stood for your entire life. How can you
do
this?”

Ben remained silent, unsure what to say.

“I asked you a question, Senator Kincaid.” His voice rose in volume. “In all good conscience, how can you do this?”

“If you’d been there on April nineteenth,” Ben said, his voice trembling, “you’d want this amendment, too.” He spoke barely louder than a whisper. In the back of the Caucus Room, people leaned forward, straining to hear. “If you had felt the…the…stark terror I experienced—that everyone there experienced—you’d want this amendment, too. I was embarrassed at how easily I succumbed to fear. I would’ve done anything to get out of there, anything. Thank God for the Secret Service and the other heroes of that day, because I was not one of them. I was a puddle—shaken to the core. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since—I don’t know if I ever will again.” He took a deep breath. “No one should be able to do that to another human being. No one.”

He drew up his chin and started again, his voice gradually gaining strength. “Oklahoma City should be the safest city in the world. It’s a modest metropolis buried deep in the heartland where folks still smile at strangers and give up their bus seats to people older than they are. And yet it has been hit twice—twice—by terrorism, first with the bombing of the Murrah Building, and now with this assault on the life of our commander in chief, purposefully staged at the site of the prior tragedy. I ask you—if Oklahoma City is not safe—what place is?”

Ben paused, wondering silently where this had come from. He had not planned it. He hadn’t planned to be so emotional—or so honest. It just erupted out of him when he heard Senator Stevens’s question.

“The April nineteenth assassin might have been gunning for the president,” Ben continued, “but he got my best friend, Mike Morelli. Let me tell you something about Mike. He’s a major, a top officer in the Tulsa homicide division. He has made his work his life. His work has benefited the community more times than I can count. If I live to be two hundred, I could not possibly equal his history of public service. But there’s more to Mike—” His voice cracked. Ben swallowed, took another breath. “There’s more to him than that. This is the man who sat by my bedside when I was sick and comatose for more than a week. This is the man who stayed up all night—on a work night no less—reciting poetry and singing the
Flintstones
song, trying to get my nephew to sleep. He has quite literally put his life on the line to save mine—and he did it again on April nineteenth.”

Ben’s head turned from side to side, as if he might somehow, somewhere, locate an answer he could not elucidate. “Mike Morelli is a hero. And that hero is at this moment lying near death on a hospital bed, his doctors unsure if his eyes will ever open again. That is not right.” His voice swelled, both in strength and volume. “Mike Morelli deserves better. I would do anything—” And at that, Ben’s voice broke down completely. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. Several moments passed before he could continue.

“I would do anything,” Ben whispered, “to turn back time and prevent Mike from being injured. But of course, that’s not possible. I can’t do that. But I can do everything in my power to make sure this does not happen to
your
best friend, Senator Stevens, or
yours,
Senator Largent, or anyone else’s. To take all possible steps to make sure this never again happens to anyone. I’m not sure about logic or principles or constitutional law—but I am sure about this. This is the greatest of all nations, my friends. If we can prevent tragedies of this magnitude from happening—then we must.”