The Fourth K (39 page)

David said, “I’m not worried about my karma, I’ll shoot him for you.” They both laughed.

The next night David cleaned the hunting rifle he had brought from Utah and fired the shot that broke the glass in Louis Inch’s limousine. He had not really aimed to hit anyone; in fact the shot had come much closer to the victim than he had intended. He was just curious to see if he could bring himself to do it.

It was Sal Troyca who decided to nail Christian Klee. Going over testimonies to the congressional committees of inquiry into the atom bomb explosion, he noted Klee’s testimony that the great international crisis of the hijacking took precedence. But then there were glitches; Troyca noticed that there was a time gap. Christian Klee had disappeared from the White House scene. Where had he gone?

They wouldn’t find out from Klee, that was certain. But the only thing that could have made Klee disappear during that crisis was something terribly important. What if Klee had gone to interrogate Gresse and Tibbot?

Troyca did not consult with his boss, Congressman Jintz; he called Elizabeth Stone, the administrative aide to Senator Lambertino, and arranged to meet her at an obscure restaurant for dinner. In the month since the atom bomb crisis the
two of them had formed a partnership, in both public and private life.

On their first date, initiated by Troyca, they had come to an understanding. Elizabeth Stone beneath her cool, impersonal beauty had a fiery sexual temperament, but her mind was cold steel. The first thing she said was “Our bosses are going to be out of their jobs in November. I think you and I should make plans for our future.”

Sal Troyca was astonished. Elizabeth Stone was famous for being one of those aides who are the loyal right arms for their congressional chiefs.

“The fight isn’t over yet,” he said.

“Of course it is,” Elizabeth Stone said. “Our bosses tried to impeach the President. Now Kennedy is the biggest hero this country has known since Washington. And he will kick their asses.”

Troyca was instinctively a more loyal person to his chief. Not out of a sense of honor, but because he was competitive, he didn’t want to think of himself as being on a losing side.

“Oh, we can stretch it out,” Elizabeth Stone said. “We don’t want to look like the kind of people who desert a sinking ship. We’ll make it look good. But I can get us both a better job.” She smiled at him mischievously and Troyca fell in love with that smile. It was a smile of gleeful temptation, a smile full of guile and yet an admission of that guile, a smile that said that if he wasn’t delighted with her, he was a jerk. He smiled back.

Sal Troyca had, even to his own way of thinking, a sort of greasy, piglike charm that worked only on certain women, and that always surprised other men and himself. Men respected Troyca because of his cunning, his high level of energy, his ability to execute. But the fact that he
could charm women so mysteriously aroused their admiration.

Now he said to Elizabeth Stone, “If we become partners, does that mean I get to fuck you?”

“Only if you make a commitment,” Elizabeth Stone said.

There were two words Sal Troyca hated more than any of the others in the English language. One was “commitment” and the other was “relationship.”

“You mean like we should have a real relationship, a commitment to each other, like love?” he said. “Like the house niggers used to make to their masters down in your dear old South?”

She sighed. “Your macho bullshit could be a problem,” she said. Then she went on: “I can make a deal for us. I’ve been a big help to the Vice President in her political career. She owes me. Now you have to see reality. Jintz and Lambertino are going to be slaughtered in the November election. Helen Du Pray is reorganizing her staff and I’m going to be one of her top advisers. I have a spot for you as my aide.”

Sal said smilingly, “That’s a demotion for me. But if you’re as good in the sack as I think you are, I’ll consider it.”

Elizabeth Stone said impatiently, “It won’t be a demotion, since you won’t have a job. And then when I go up the ladder, so do you. You’ll wind up with your own staff section as an aide to the Vice President.”

She paused for a moment. “Listen,” she said, “we were attracted to each other in the senator’s office, not love maybe, but certainly lust at first sight. And I’ve heard about you screwing your aides. But I understand it. We both work so hard, we don’t have time for a real social life or a real love life. And I’m tired of screwing guys just because I’m lonely a couple of times a month. I want a real relationship.”

“You’re going too fast,” Troyca said. “Now, if it was on the staff of the President …” He shrugged and grinned to show that he was kidding.

Elizabeth Stone gave him her smile again. It was really a hardboiled sort of grin but Troyca found it charming. “The Kennedys have always been unlucky,” she said. “The Vice President could be the President. But please be serious. Why can’t we have a partnership, if that’s what you prefer to call it? Neither one of us wants to get married. Neither of us wants children. Why can’t we sort of half live with each other, keep our own places, of course, but sort of live together? We can have companionship and sex and we can work together as a team. We can satisfy our human needs and operate at the highest point of efficiency. If it works, it could be a great arrangement. If it doesn’t, we can just call it quits. We have until November.”

They went to bed that night and Elizabeth Stone was a revelation to Troyca. Like many shy, reserved people, man or woman, she was genuinely ardent and tender in bed. And it helped that the act of consummation took place in Elizabeth Stone’s town house. Troyca had not known that she was independently wealthy. Like a true Wasp, he thought, she had concealed that fact, where he would have flaunted it. Troyca immediately saw that the town house would be a perfect place for both of them to live, much better than his just adequate flat. Here with Elizabeth Stone he could set up an office. The town house had three servants and he would be relieved of time-consuming and worrying details like sending clothes out for cleaning, shopping for food and drink.

And Elizabeth Stone, ardent feminist though she was, performed like some legendary courtesan in bed. She was a slave to his pleasure. Well, it was only the first time women
were like that, Troyca thought. Like when they first came to be interviewed for a job, they never looked as good after that. But in the month that followed, she proved him wrong.

They built up an almost perfect relationship. It was wonderful for both of them after their long hours with Jintz and Lambertino to come home, go out for a late supper and then sleep together and make love. And in the morning they would go to work together. He thought for the first time in his life about marriage. But he knew instinctively that this was something Elizabeth would not want.

They lived contained lives, a cocoon of work, companionship and love, for they did come to love each other. But the best and most delicious part of their times together was their scheming on how to change the events of their world. They both agreed that Kennedy would be reelected to the presidency in November. Elizabeth was sure that the campaign being mounted against the President by Congress and the Socrates Club was doomed to failure. Troyca was not so sure. There were many cards to play.

Elizabeth hated Kennedy. It was not a personal hatred; it was that steely opposition to someone she thought of as a tyrant. “The important thing,” she said, “is that Kennedy not be allowed to have his own Congress in the next election. That should be the battleground. It’s clear from Kennedy’s statements in the campaign that he will change the structure of American democracy. And that would create a very dangerous historical situation.”

“If you are so opposed to him now, how can you accept a position on the Vice President’s staff after the election?” Sal asked her.

“We’re not policymakers,” Elizabeth said. “We’re administrators. We can work for anybody.”

•  •  •

So after a month of intimacy, Elizabeth was surprised when Sal asked that they meet in a restaurant rather than in the comfort of the town house they now shared. But he had insisted.

In the restaurant over their first drinks, Elizabeth said, “Why couldn’t we talk at home?”

Sal said thoughtfully, “You know, I’ve been studying a lot of documents going a long way back. Our Attorney General, Christian Klee, is a very dangerous man.”

“So?” Elizabeth said.

“He may have your house bugged,” Sal said.

Elizabeth laughed, “You are paranoid,” she said.

“Yeah,” Sal said. “Well, how about this. Christian Klee had those two kids, Gresse and Tibbot, in custody and didn’t interrogate them right away. But there’s a time gap. And the kids were tipped off and told to keep their mouths shut until their families supplied lawyers. And what about Yabril? Klee has him stashed, nobody can get to see or talk to him. Klee stonewalls and Kennedy backs him up. I think Klee is capable of anything.”

Elizabeth Stone said thoughtfully, “You can get Jintz to subpoena Klee to appear before a congressional committee. I can ask Senator Lambertino to do the same thing. We can smoke Klee out.”

“Kennedy will exercise executive privilege and forbid him to testify,” Sal said. “We can wipe our asses with those subpoenas.”

Elizabeth was usually amused by his vulgarities, especially in bed, but she was not amused now. “His exercising executive privilege will damage him,” she said. “The papers and TV will crucify him.”

“OK, we can do that,” Sal said. “But how about if just you and me go to see Oddblood Gray and try to pin him down?
We can’t make him talk but maybe he will. He’s an idealist at heart, and maybe psychologically he’s horrified at the way Klee botched the atom bomb incident. Maybe he even knows something concrete.”

It was unfortunate that they picked Oddblood Gray to question. Gray was reluctant to see them, but Elizabeth’s friendship with Vice President Helen Du Pray was the deciding factor in their favor. Gray had a tremendous respect for Du Pray.

Sal Troyca opened the discussion by asking, “Isn’t it odd that the Attorney General, Christian Klee, had those two young men in custody before the explosion and never got any information out of them?”

“They stood on their Constitutional rights,” Gray said cautiously.

Troyca said dryly, “Klee has the reputation of being a rather forceful and resourceful man. Could two kids like Gresse and Tibbot stand up against him?”

Gray shrugged. “You never know about Klee,” he said.

It was Elizabeth Stone who put the question directly. “Mr. Gray,” she said, “do you have any knowledge or even have any reason to believe that the Attorney General secretly interrogated those two young men?”

Gray felt a sudden rush of anger at this question. But wait, why the hell should he protect Klee? he thought. After all, most of the people killed in New York had been black. “This is off the record,” he said, “and I will deny it under oath. Klee did conduct a secret interrogation with all the listening devices turned off. There is no record. It is possible to believe the worst. But if you do, you must believe the President had no part in it.”

On this Early may Morning before meeting with the President, Helen Du Pray went on a five-mile run to clear her head. She knew that not only the administration but she herself was at a very dangerous crossroad.

It was pleasant to know that at this point in time she was a hero to Kennedy and the senior staff because she had refused to sign the petition to remove Kennedy—even though that feeling sprang from a concept of male honor that she held in contempt.

There were many dangerous problems. What had Klee really done? Was it possible he could have prevented the atom bomb explosion? And had he let it explode because he knew it would save the President? She could believe that of Klee but not of Francis Kennedy. And surely that could only have been done with Kennedy’s consent?

And yet. And yet. There was in the persona of Kennedy
now an aura of danger. It was clear that he would try to get a subservient Congress to do his will. And what would he make that Congress do? It was clear that Kennedy was going to press for RICO indictments against all the important members of the Socrates Club. That was an extremely dangerous use of power. Would he discard all democratic and ethical principles to further his vision of a better America? Kennedy was trying to protect Klee, and Oddblood Gray was rebelling against this. Helen Du Pray feared this dissension. A President’s staff existed to serve the President. The Vice President must follow the President. Must. Unless she resigned. And what a terrible blow that would be to Kennedy. And the end of her political career. She would be the ultimate betrayer. And poor Francis, what would he do about Yabril?

For she recognized that Kennedy could become as ruthless as his opponents: the Congress, the Socrates Club, Yabril. Oh, Francis could destroy them all—the tragedies of his life had warped his brain irreversibly.

She felt the sweat on her back, her thigh muscles ached, she dreamed of running forever and ever and never going back to the White House.

Dr. Zed Annaccone dreaded his meeting with President Kennedy and his staff. It made him slightly ill to talk science and mix it in with political and sociological targets. He would never have accepted being the President’s medical science adviser if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was the only way to ensure the proper funding of his beloved National Brain Research Institute.

It wasn’t so bad when he dealt with Francis Kennedy directly. The man was brilliant and had a flair for science, though the newspaper stories that claimed the President
would have made a great scientist were simply absurd. But Kennedy certainly understood the subtle value of research and how even the most farfetched of scientific theories could have almost miraculous results. Kennedy was not the problem. It was the staff and the Congress and all the bureaucratic dragons. Plus the CIA and the FBI, who kept looking over his shoulder.