Capitol Conspiracy (21 page)

31

C
OLGATE
A
PARTMENTS
A
PARTMENT
12-B
G
EORGETOWN

B
en tiptoed quietly into his apartment, flowers tickling his nose. It was dark inside and quiet—good. He must’ve beaten Christina home.

He flipped on the lights, then gently laid down the bouquet of roses, then the box of chocolates, then the Hallmark “Heartfelt” card (“Sometimes you have to stop thinking and follow your heart”), then the Hershey’s Kisses. He had briefly considered getting her a puppy, but wasn’t sure how it would fare in a small apartment with three cats.

He had practiced his speech about a thousand times, but he hadn’t thought about where he wanted to be standing when he delivered it. So many questions! Perhaps leaning against the mantel of the fireplace, a pipe in one hand, the light of the fire illuminating his face in a mysterious yet attractive manner…

But the fireplace was a fake—you couldn’t really burn wood in it, and he didn’t smoke a pipe. Christina had thrown out his button-down sweaters.

Perhaps reclining on the sofa, supine, several shirt buttons unbuttoned. Or just in an undershirt. Or perhaps even—

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t pull any of that off, even if he did think it would work, which he didn’t.

And that was before he received the anonymously delivered manila envelope bearing the photos of him and—that woman. In the teddy. Whoever she was. Thank goodness Jones hadn’t been around to receive the mail. Didn’t matter who the envelope was addressed to. He would’ve opened it just because it was marked
PRIVATE
and underlined twice. The pictures looked so…incriminating. What would happen if Christina saw them? How could he prevent her from seeing them? If she did, it would all be over, that much was certain. He would never be able to talk his way out of that one.

He hadn’t seen her in so long and missed her so much. Jones told him she was planning to go home tonight, so he had hoped that maybe, if he did everything right, there was still some small possibility…

He picked up the picture of her he kept on the coffee table so he could see it wherever he was in the room. It was taken on their wedding day, on the steps of the Supreme Court building, just after the disastrous “you may kiss the bride” incident. He cringed just thinking about it. What on earth had she ever seen in him? How could he think there was anything he could do to change her mind? Him, the loser who couldn’t even manage to get her away for a honeymoon.

It was hopeless. Christina had every right to be ticked off at him and she wasn’t going to stop being ticked off at him until—

“That you, handsome?”

Ben started. He rose to his feet. “Hello?” He paused another moment. “Christina? Is that you?”

She stepped slowly out of the bedroom wearing a shimmering blue full-length nightgown. “Who’d you think it might be? Your girlfriend in the black teddy?”

Jeez Louise. “Christina, you have to believe me. I don’t know who she was. She just—appeared. I did not have…anything with that woman. I promise you that—”

“I know, Ben.”

“Seriously, I never even—” He stopped short. “You know?”

“Of course I know.”

“How could you possibly know?”

“Because I know you.” She came closer. Standing before the window, he could drink in the entire lovely picture. The blue was perfectly matched to her eyes, just barely revealing the shoulders he loved so well….

She saw the roses on the counter and picked them up. “These for anyone in particular?”

“Huh? Oh!” Ben snapped to attention. “Those are for you. I mean, obviously they’re for you. Who else would they be for?”

“And the chocolates?”

“And the card. And the, um, Kisses.”

“Mmm,” she said, licking her lips. “No puppy?”

“Well, I didn’t—” He halted himself again. “You really do know me, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh. Like my nightie?”

Ben suddenly felt very hot under the collar. “Um, uh, yeahhhh…”

“I bought it for our honeymoon, but—”

“I am so sorry. I’ve told you—”

“Shhh.” She placed a finger against his lips. “No need. It’ll work tonight just as well.”

“It will?”

She drew him very close to her. “It will.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the neck.

“Uh, Christina,” he said, trying very hard to think about…something other than the obvious.

“Mmm,” she said, still kissing.

“All this stuff. The flowers and candy and…”

“Mmm.” Her left hand was unbuttoning his shirt.

“I—I need your help.”

“I know.”

“There—there are three senators who have put a—a legislative hold on—”

“Dawkins, Stringer, and Reneau.”

“You already know?”

“Yup.”

“How?”

She lifted her face from his chest only for a moment. “Ben, darling. Haven’t you noticed? I’m the best.” She resumed kissing.

Ben tried to keep his mind on the current political crisis, but it was becoming increasingly impossible. “Do you—d-do you think there’s any way we can get those names out? Like, um…”

“A front page article in
The Washington Post
?”

“Uhh…that would work.”

He could feel her smile against his chest. “Be sure to read the paper tomorrow morning then.”

“Christina.” He stopped her, taking her head between his hands, and gazed into her lovely face. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about the amendment?”

“No, you dodo. It means I love you. Now are you going to take me to bed or am I going to have to get out the handcuffs?”

As it turned out, the cuffs were not required.

32

D
EPARTMENT OF
H
OMELAND
S
ECURITY
N
EBRASKA
A
VENUE
N
AVAL
C
OMPLEX
W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.

A
gent Zimmer couldn’t help but wonder why Director Lehman would be calling a press conference today. Didn’t they all have enough to do without pandering to the press? He knew that every available agent, everyone who wasn’t actively engaged in protecting a member of the president or vice-president’s staff, was investigating the April 19 attack. And Lehman had been unofficially but no less determinedly campaigning for the passage of the president’s proposed amendment.

There had been rumors swirling through the building the past few days, rumors that someone somewhere in Homeland Security had uncovered something big. Maybe that was the reason for the conference? Zimmer only hoped that were true. It would be a great coup for the department, not to mention a great morale builder, if the turning point in the case arrived not from the FBI, with their vastly greater law enforcement facilities, or from the NSA/CIA, with their vastly greater data collecting abilities—but from the humble old Secret Service. That would make him very happy.

And it would give him an excuse to worry less about Agent Gatwick. Ever since their confrontation a few days before, Gatwick had studiously avoided him. But Zimmer knew he had been talking. Stirring up trouble. Probably trying to get him fired. Maybe he imagined it, but he thought Director Lehman had been chillier toward him, too. Zimmer still hadn’t reported his suspicions to his superiors—he just didn’t have anything sufficiently concrete to report. But he was worried that his silence might have allowed a conspiracy to grow, or allowed Gatwick more time to cover it up….

At any rate, if Lehman was calling everyone together to announce that the case was solved, he would have a lot less to worry about.

Lehman had gathered the press on the steps outside the Naval Complex, the standard blue podium poised between Lehman, a few close advisors, and scores of journalists. The only person up there from Homeland Security that he recognized was Nichole Muldoon. Everyone in the department knew Muldoon, and it wasn’t simply because she was beautiful. Her rise in the department had been astonishing. Countless male colleagues had been passed over, including several who had been repeatedly decorated for bravery. Naturally rumors flew about who she knew or who she was doing as the left-behind grappled for some explanation for her success other than the obvious—that she was a very talented, hardworking Secret Service agent. Zimmer had never had much to do with her, but he tended to think the hostility he knew many had for her had more to do with sexism and male insecurity than anything else.

Lehman approached the microphone and addressed the crowd. “Thank you for coming. I’ll try to be brief. I’m sure most of you are aware that the Secret Service has been actively involved in the ongoing investigation of the April nineteenth attempt to assassinate President Blake. That attack led to a certain constitutional amendment now being considered in Congress, and I, like most people in the law enforcement community, have been an active proponent of that measure. Some critics have suggested that since the amendment directly concerns the Department of Homeland Security, and the director in particular, perhaps these two positions create a conflict of interest. Well, ladies and gentlemen, today I have gathered you together so that I can answer my critics.”

He paused briefly, his eyes unblinking, then continued. “You’re right.”

In the brief moment of silence, Zimmer thought he heard the sound of collective surprise.

“Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting that anything untoward or inappropriate has occurred. To the contrary, I know that there has in fact been no inappropriate activity and that those Secret Service agents who have worked on this case have done so with all their heart for totally selfless reasons—because of their great devotion to this nation. But in perilous times such as these, it is important that the people of the United States have complete confidence in their government officials. Even if there is no basis for suspicion, we must strive to eliminate the suspicions.”

Lehman turned slightly, adjusting his gaze. “It is for this reason that I am hereby declaring that the agents of the Secret Service will no longer be involved in the domestic investigation of the April nineteenth attack.”

Heads turned. The crowd murmured. No one had been expecting this. It seemed crazy—especially when rumors were flying that someone in the department had made a breakthrough.

“It is clear to most people involved that this attack was unprovoked and in all likelihood executed by foreign powers. Therefore, this falls squarely within the province of the CIA and the NSA, or perhaps the FBI, given their current increased involvement with counterterrorism. Of course, Homeland Security will continue to coordinate with these agencies and advise on how best to protect our people. But the involvement of the Secret Service is hereby at an end.”

Hands flew into the air. Zimmer couldn’t tell whether Lehman had actually chosen a journalist or if one of them had simply spoken first.

“Don’t most law enforcement officials think the more people we have working on this investigation the better?” a woman asked.

“No, ma’am. That is exactly what we don’t think. And as I’m sure you realize, I didn’t make this decision without first consulting with the president and the heads of the various agencies. What we feel is that everyone should be doing what they specialize in doing, what they’re trained to do. The Secret Service exists to protect our leading officials. And so we will.”

“How much does this have to do with the amendment?” a voice shouted from the rear. Zimmer wasn’t sure, but he thought the bespectacled elderly gentleman was with the
Post.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“If this amendment passes, the director of Homeland Security becomes the chairman of the Emergency Security Council, with not only the power to declare a state of national emergency but to suspend certain constitutional rights. If it happened today—that would be you.”

“And don’t I know it,” Lehman said, drawing a small chuckle from some of the reporters. “You’re right—that is a consideration. Since the bill concerns me and my future job description, I think it’s best that I stay out of the political process, not to mention any investigation that might directly affect that process.”

Zimmer felt a tug on his shoulder. His first reaction was to ignore it—he was much more interested in the press conference. Then the tugging became more insistent.

He whirled. “Would you please—?”

His eyes widened. It was Deputy Director Nichole Muldoon. “Let’s talk,” she said succinctly.

Wait a minute—hadn’t he seen her on television? She must’ve left the conference while Lehman spoke. Zimmer wasn’t even sure why he did it, but he followed her through a side exit into a secure conference room.

Why wasn’t she standing behind her man at the podium? He hadn’t seen her leave any more than he’d heard her creep up behind him.

She shut the door and locked it. “So. What do you think of that?”

“I’m…surprised.”

“You’re not the only one. I was surprised, and I’m the deputy director. I didn’t think he could go to the bathroom without running it by me first.” She frowned. “Turns out he can.”

“I can’t believe we’re out of the investigation.”

“Neither can I. Especially since—” She paused, eyeing Zimmer carefully. “Since I have some reason to believe that someone may have discovered something. Something important.”

“Then why wouldn’t he say so? Why would he shut down the whole operation?”

“I don’t know. It makes no sense.”

“And more to the point—why are you talking to
me
about this?”

She smiled, a thick-lipped smile Zimmer found much more attractive than comfortable. “Do you mind talking with me?”

“No, but—we hardly know each other.”

“True, but I hear through the grapevine that you’ve done some investigating of your own.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve successfully gotten Agent Gatwick into a tizzy.”

“I have?”

“You have. And I’m not the only one who’s enjoying seeing him spin around in circles trying to deflect unspoken rumors. I’ll tell you this, though—I know he met with Director Lehman very recently. Secretly. I’m pretty sure he wanted Lehman to protect him from you. And then—poof! Lehman takes us out of the investigation.”

“Are you suggesting—?”

“I don’t know what I’m suggesting. I just think it’s strange. Very strange.” She came even closer. She had a musky scent about her, like a strong aftershave lotion, something he wouldn’t have thought he’d like on a woman. As it turned out, he did. “Tell me, Zimmer—can you get in to see the president?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Even I can’t get in to see the president—especially not without Lehman knowing and getting a full report on everything that was said. But you might.”

“What makes you think so?”

“You’ve been protecting him—how long?”

“Since he took office.”

“You’re friends?”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere near describing us as friends. I make it a point not to develop personal relationships with—”

“But you’re friendly.”

Zimmer tilted his head. “I suppose. Or we were. Remember—I was protecting his wife when she was killed. We haven’t talked since.”

“All the more reason to ask for a meeting. So you can express your remorse and regret. He’ll like that. You can both cry on each other’s shoulder.” She paused, then looked him directly in the eyes. “Then you can tell him what you know about Gatwick.”

“And Lehman?”

“Mention to the president Gatwick has met with Lehman. Tell him about the changes made to Domino Bravo. The president may not be a rocket scientist, but he can add. He can draw his own conclusions, once he has the facts.”

“I don’t know….”

“Zimmer—Max. If someone in our department has learned something about what happened on April nineteenth, I for one do not want to see that get buried. Do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then ask for a meeting.”

Zimmer thought for a moment. “I will see him tomorrow. It would be an easy chance to mention that I’d like to chat with him in private sometime.”

“That’s the spirit. Do it.” She paused, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Then let me know what happens. I know this will be uncomfortable for you, Max. But if our bosses do know something they’re not telling, we have an obligation to make sure it comes out. An obligation to Emily Blake. And everyone else who died on April nineteenth.”