Shadow Account (25 page)

20

Middleburg, Virginia, is a tiny, colonial-era town tucked into the eastern foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains forty miles west of Washington. Although it’s one of the prettiest and most desirable dots on the commonwealth map, real estate brokers here don’t usually earn the standard 6 percent. They don’t have to. Few properties trade hands for less than a million dollars, and brokers make an excellent living by being reasonable. Technology executives, prominent political figures, movie stars, and venture capitalists mingle at the pricey shops and restaurants of the quaint village—as well as on the private polo fields, steeplechase courses, and foxhunting trails of the sprawling estates outside of town.

It was in the middle of this Norman Rockwell painting Lucas now found himself.

No blue-collar strip mall this time. This time the venue was a stately, three-story stone home overlooking the seemingly endless white-wooden fences of a thoroughbred horse farm. Perhaps the change of venue could be explained by Lucas’s unwillingness to relay anything to the low-level West Winger who’d met him at the Vietnam Memorial. Or perhaps it was simply more convenient for Franklin Bennett on this day. Bottom line: Lucas didn’t care
why
the venue had changed, only that it had. Because the existence of the estate and the fact that he and Bennett were meeting here confirmed for him that there was some kind of secret society within the party. There was no way Bennett could afford all of this. Somebody inside had to be making it available to him.

Which was fine with Lucas. At heart, he was more utilitarian than possessive. He cared more about using assets than he did owning them.

“Something to drink, sir?”

A maid held a tray in front of Lucas as he sat in a wicker chair on the wide covered porch. On it were tall glasses of lemonade and iced tea, perspiring in the heavy humidity of the August afternoon.

“Thank you.” Lucas chose lemonade and took a long drink, ice cubes pressed to his upper lip. It was so damn hot and the cold liquid was refreshing. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand as the maid placed the tray on a small glass-top table beside his chair, then disappeared inside the house.

He’d been waiting for an hour, and he’d happily wait another. Another
several
, in fact. He was nervous. Hands-shaking nervous. This was it. High noon. He thought about smoking but didn’t. He didn’t want Bennett knowing that he needed a crutch.

From the porch Lucas could see the long driveway leading down to the main road, and he checked it constantly to see if Bennett was coming. He despised himself for it, but he could feel the indecision seeping back. He took another long guzzle of lemonade. As confident as he’d been an hour ago on the way out here, he was reconsidering the consequences. Maybe it was wiser to stay quiet and hold on to the life he’d grown accustomed to. Minutes passed like hours more days than he cared to admit, but it was an uncomplicated life. Perhaps most important, it was a safe life, fraught with no critical responsibilities. With increased responsibilities came increased risk. With increased risk came the potential for disaster. He’d lived his entire life trying to avoid disaster. It was terrifying to suddenly fly in the face of it.

He placed the glass of lemonade down on the table, leaned forward on the edge of the chair, and rubbed his eyes. Be the man Brenda would want, he told himself. Not the coward she’d discarded at Northwestern.

“Hello, Lucas.”

His head snapped around. Franklin Bennett stood there, glaring at him.

“What do you want?” Bennett asked gruffly, easing into the chair on the other side of the table. “This better be important.”

Lucas’s mouth went dry. Franklin Bennett was chief of staff to the president of the United States of America. Who the hell did he think he was, taking on this kind of power? Bennett could call in favors from people like the ones Cheetah had talked about. People who could easily cause those disasters Lucas had been running from his entire life.

He thought about Brenda again. Of how impressed she’d been by his career—and how disappointed she’d be by the truth. The hell with it. No risk, no reward.

“Have something to drink, Franklin.”

“No. I don’t care for anything.”

Lucas had seen Bennett’s posture stiffen at the sound of his given name. No one in the West Wing ever called him that. Not even the president. “Hot out here, isn’t it, Franklin?” At least he’d gotten the bastard’s attention.

“Yes,” Bennett answered deliberately.

“But peaceful, too.”

“What do you want, Lucas?”

“I have a matter of grave importance to report.”

“Yes?”

Lucas took a deep breath. Conviction. Keep your conviction. “Before I discuss it, I have questions.”

“You what?”

“I have questions.” When was the last time anyone had done anything like this to Bennett? he wondered. “Questions,” Lucas repeated firmly.

“What questions?” Bennett demanded.

The moment of truth had arrived. Would he or wouldn’t he? He could still back off. He hadn’t yet passed the point of no return. “Why did you really want me to research the jewels?” Lucas asked. And there it was. Just that quickly he was in as deep as he could get. “What was your real motivation?”

“Motivation?” Bennett raised both eyebrows so they arched halfway up his forehead.

Bennett probably knew about Lucas’s genius level intelligence quotient, and the summa cum laude graduation from Northwestern. It might even have crossed his mind that there was a remote possibility Lucas could have suspicions about the operation’s real objective. But Bennett never would have guessed that a 140-pound weakling who would have failed the first day of basic training at Parris Island would actually confront him.

“Yes.” Now that Lucas was committed, he was thinking with surprising clarity. The cotton balls that had stuffed his mouth moments ago had dissolved like cotton candy. “Why did you have me research the jewels?”

Bennett folded his arms tightly across his chest. “We’ve been through all of this many times. I need to know if the men closest to the president have any skeletons so I can keep the bones locked in the closet until after the election. I don’t understand why we’re going through this again, Lucas. If you didn’t fully understand the order when we started, you should have told me.”

“I understood,” Lucas assured Bennett, “but I believe you have another agenda.” He was proud of himself. The words had come out calmly, even laced with a hint of his own irritation.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Veins in Bennett’s forehead rose to the surface, creating a roadmap stretching from one temple to the other. “What’s going on here? I tasked you with a mission of vital importance to the party. I trusted you. Now, what have you found, my little friend?”

Lucas had prepared himself for the onslaught. It was just like those chess matches. Bennett was trying to end the conflict quickly with a massive frontal assault, but he was leaving his flank open. It was so predictable. “I’ve uncovered several important pieces of information, Franklin. One of those pieces of information would be very damaging to the president if it ever got out. It’s that serious. But I want to know the truth before I tell you more.” Lucas paused. “So, what is your real agenda?”

Bennett smiled defiantly. “What do you think it is? What’s your little conspiracy fantasy?”

“I think you’re more interested in using what I’ve found
against
the president,” Lucas answered, closely watching the other man’s expression as he dropped the bomb, “than suppressing it.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Am I?”

“Lucas, I order you to turn over everything you have on the jewels,” Bennett demanded. “Members of my team will escort you back to Georgetown, and you
will
give it to them. Do you understand?”

This was going to be easier than Lucas had anticipated. Despite his position of power, Bennett wasn’t all that intelligent. He was nothing but a bully, and Lucas had lots of experience dealing with bullies.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, boy,” Bennett snapped, standing up. “I’ll have my associates meet you at the Beltway and Route 50, then go with you to Georgetown.”

“Why don’t you just have them go to Georgetown without me?” Lucas asked. “You have the combinations to the apartment’s door and wall safe. You don’t need me around.” He paused, watching horses graze in the lush green fields. “What you need to understand, Franklin, is that I’m not here to make trouble.”

“You could have fooled me,” Bennett snapped.

“I’m here because I’m loyal to the party,” Lucas continued, making certain his voice was strong. “Not necessarily to the president.” He hesitated. “I’ll give you what you want, but I want things in return.”

Bennett sank slowly back onto the wicker chair.

“I know the details of Project Trust, Franklin,” Lucas continued. “I know what the president will propose. I also know that you’re in the dark about it. That you’ve been kept out of the loop. On purpose.” Lucas saw that he’d struck a chord. Bennett was transfixed. “I’ll give you some broad strokes, Franklin. But that’s all I’m willing to tell you right now.”

Bennett nodded, lips pursed.

Thank God for Harry Kaplan.

“The president will create a commission from hell to oversee Wall Street and cut investment banking compensation to the bone. They’ll have a license to kill, and they’ll be paid extremely well. So they won’t be vulnerable to blue-blood bribery.” Kaplan had relayed additional details concerning Project Trust during another clandestine meeting in the woods near the Iwo Jima Memorial late last night. “The president is going to shove accounting regulations so far up corporate asses that CEOs won’t be able to take five dollars from petty cash without getting written permission from the SEC. But here’s the real red hot poker. The president is going to propose raising the federal tax rate on all earnings over a million dollars to
seventy-five percent
.”

Bennett’s mouth fell slowly open.

“He’s going to propose a wealth tax, too,” Lucas continued. This was another piece of new information Kaplan had relayed last night. “Anyone with a net worth over ten million dollars will have to pay the federal government five percent of the amount over ten million every year.”

Bennett gazed at Lucas, as though he were hypnotized. “How do you know all this?” he finally whispered.

Bennett was ready to fall. One more volley and this thing would be over. “The president is dealing only with the deputy chief of staff on Project Trust. And Roscoe Burns has ordered the few people on his staff who know what’s going on to tell you nothing. I have a connection on Burns’s staff who’s on the inside.” Lucas had just put Harry Kaplan in terrible danger because Bennett might figure out the connection. But this was the big leagues and this was the play. Kaplan knew the risks involved by relaying this kind of information. “I can only infer from the gag order that the president doesn’t trust you, Franklin. That the president is working solely with the deputy chief on Project Trust because he doesn’t think you would support him. In fact, he fears that
many
people inside his party wouldn’t support him. That even though he’s the leader of the party, the money men behind the scenes would turn against him if they knew what he was planning. He knows you have close ties to the money, but that Burns is completely removed from that. That’s why he’s working with Burns on this, and he’s shut you out. More than anything he wants to be reelected. He’ll sacrifice all else to have that happen.

“He’s keeping his plans quiet so you can’t anticipate,” Lucas continued. “So you can’t throw up roadblocks and put together coalitions on the Hill to block him. So once he makes the details of Project Trust public, it’s a done deal. So that when he ends his speech with ‘God bless the United States of America,’ the Project Trust train will have already left the station and there won’t be any stopping it. The press will jump all over his proposals, and he’ll be a hero to the masses. No one will be able to get in his way at that point.

“The president believes most people in this country want to see investment bankers, corporate executives, and the rest of the rich get screwed. He thinks he’ll get the undecided vote with his proposals, and he’s adding a little extra incentive to make sure. He’s
cutting
tax rates for the middle and lower classes.

“He thinks the election may ultimately turn into a landslide, and he’s probably right. People vote with their wallets. We all know that. He’ll have to follow through on Project Trust, but so what? He’ll win four more years in the Oval Office and that’s all he cares about. He’ll worry about the implications of his actions later.

“So what do you do, Franklin? You haven’t been able to uncover the details of Project Trust, but you and a few other senior level officials inside the party anticipate that this thing is going to be bad. Very bad. The president is going to make his speech soon, and then he’s in the driver’s seat.” Lucas smiled. “But there’s one thing the president hasn’t anticipated. The
extent
to which you and the other higher-ups in the party will go. The president figures once he’s made his speech, he’s in. All he’s got to do is keep the train on the tracks. But you and the others see the window of opportunity as ninety days. Until the election. Like Yogi said, ‘It ain’t over till it’s over.’ You’re not going to give up until the election is actually in the books. You see a way to use Project Trust
against
the president. How? Simple. Dig up something nasty on one of his handpicked boys and show the country he’s guilty of exactly what Project Trust is trying to fight. Make it look like the president’s promises are empty. Which will be a cakewalk if you can show that one of his boys is a thief. That would prove to the American people he isn’t going to follow up on what he’s proposed because he and his guys have benefited from exactly the kind of old boy network, backroom dealings Project Trust is supposed to stop.” Lucas took a breath. “Which is where I come in. I have what you need.”

Lucas’s hands were shaking. But not with fear. With elation. He’d finally figured out the key to life. Confidence. Belief in self.