Removal

by Murphy, Peter

  The President turned to face the assembled agents, still holding a handkerchief to his head. The agents had lowered their guns, but they were still inching their way suspiciously into the room, towards the President, ready for any action which might even now be required.

  ‘I regret to say,’ the President said slowly, in a subdued tone of voice, his eyes lowered, ‘that my wife and I had a disagreement. Agent Mills heard the disturbance from outside, and came in to see if anything was wrong. He tried to intervene, but I’m afraid things got out of hand. I wasn’t in any danger. But he was right to be worried. As were you all. I’m sorry.’

  The President looked sheepishly up at the battery of agents.

  ‘Look, couldn’t we cancel the code red? It obviously isn’t necessary.’

  Linda nodded to Gary Mills, who lowered his hands, retrieved his radio from the floor where it had fallen during the scuffle, and walked over to join the agents at the door.

  ‘I’ll speak to the senior officer about it, Mr. President,’ Linda said.

  She turned to the First Lady.

  ‘Ma’am, you are free to put your hands down now. Do you require medical attention?’

  Julia Wade shook her head sullenly, and sat down in the nearest chair, her face deathly white.

  ‘Very well,’ Linda said. ‘I want the agents to make a formal search of the immediate area before I suggest canceling the code red. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. President. It’s just procedure.’

  The President nodded reluctantly, and also sat down as a nurse appeared at the door with a first aid kit.

  With an immense sigh of relief, Linda Samuels put away her gun, walked outside into the corridor, and leaned heavily against the wall. Gary Mills joined her.

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘For assuming I… Did you really think I…?’

  Linda turned to her colleague.

  ‘Knock it off, Gary. I had a situation. It’s the rule, remember? No chances with the President’s life, ever, whatever the circumstances. You’d have done the same.’

  ‘So if I hadn’t shown you my hands, you… you would have shot me?’

  ‘In a heartbeat,’ Linda said.

  Gary looked up at the ceiling. ‘Fuck,’ he breathed.

  They stood together silently for a while.

  ‘So, what the hell happened anyway?’ Linda asked eventually.

  Gary managed a weak smile. ‘You obviously haven’t read the newspapers.’

  ‘Not yet. I’ve had a busy morning.’

  ‘I’ll show you when we get downstairs. You’ll understand. I was on my way to see if the President was ready to come downstairs. When I got near the door of the living quarters, I could hear them screaming and carrying on. It got louder and louder, and then I heard furniture falling over. I wasn’t sure what to do. I was embarrassed. But then I figured I’d be even more embarrassed if the President died on my watch, even if it was his wife who killed him. So I went in. Then she started screaming at me, and throwing things. I made one attempt to call for back-up. After that, I didn’t get a chance. She was like a crazy woman, Linda. She attacked me too. I had to try to subdue her. I thought I had her just before you arrived. But she broke loose, picked up this big vase, and threw it straight at his head. It turns out she has pretty good aim. Then I jumped on top of her and hoped I could hold her till the Seventh Cavalry arrived.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Linda said. ‘It’s not enough we have to worry about assassins? Now we have to worry about the President being a victim of domestic violence?’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘And I ordered a code red. Great way to start the day.’

  Gary put an arm around Linda’s shoulder.

  ‘You’re my hero. You were just like Clint Eastwood in… what was that movie?’ he said with a grin.

  Linda could not resist returning the grin.

  ‘Yeah, fuck you too,’ she replied.

  They began to walk slowly downstairs together.

  ‘You did that for me, right, not for the President?’ he asked.

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘Order the code red.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t have missed me just a little bit…?’

  ‘If I’d had to shoot you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Linda made a pretense of considering the question seriously.

  ‘Actually, I might miss you.’

  ‘You’d have to make your own coffee in the office.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Linda said. ‘I didn’t think of that. I would miss you. Definitely.’

  * * *

  The Naval Physician Commander watched as the nurse finished setting in place the bandage around the President’s head. He began to put the syringe and bottles of pills into his briefcase.

  ‘Are you sure you understand your medication, Mr. President?’

  The President nodded, and got up from the chair in which he had been sitting during the examination.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Commander.’

  The Commander appeared reluctant to leave.

  ‘Mr. President, I’d still feel a lot happier if you would let us take you to Bethesda for twenty-four hours. I don’t like leaving you when there’s every likelihood you have a concussion, even if it is a mild one. I can easily find a reason which wouldn’t cause any alarm…’

  ‘I’ll be just fine, Commander. I have a lot of people to look after me. They won’t leave me alone all day, whether I want them to or not. I promise, if I feel any strange symptoms, or start falling asleep, I’ll contact you straight away.’

  ‘Very well, Mr. President.’

  ‘Your concern is noted, Commander.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  The Commander pursed his lips, walked to join the nurse at the door, and ushered her outside.

  For some time, there was silence. Ellen Trevathan and Martha Graylor were sitting nearby. They had been called to the scene as the agents were leaving, and had watched silently as the President’s physician performed his examination and treatment of the head wound.

  ‘So, am I off the hook, as far as the Twenty-Fifth Amendment goes?’ Ellen asked quietly. Her tone was not friendly.

  ‘As far as I know, Ellen, I’m functioning just fine,’ Wade replied. ‘If I have some kind of seizure or start foaming at the mouth later in the day, I’m sure someone will notice and let you know, so you can take over. As of right now, I don’t think I’m going to start World War Three by accident.’

  The silence resumed.

  ‘Mr. President,’ Martha said eventually, ‘I told everyone you had an accident without being very specific. But the fact is that a code red was declared, and that kind of thing can’t be hidden, not on the morning of a press conference, anyway. Have you had a chance to think about what you want me to tell them?’

  Wade shrugged, apparently carelessly.

  ‘Tell them it was a misunderstanding. Someone got their wires crossed when they heard about my little mishap, and pushed the wrong button.’

  Ellen shook her head vigorously.

  ‘It won’t fly,’ she said authoritatively.

  ‘Why in the hell not?’ Wade asked.

  The Vice President stood, picked up the copy of The Washington Post from the floor where Julia Wade had thrown it earlier, and began to walk around the presidential living room, reading aloud from Mary Sullivan’s exclusive front page piece.

  ‘‘President Steve Wade may have been sharing the sexual favors of a murdered Lebanese woman with a Lebanese diplomat who was also found murdered in Washington in still mysterious circumstances, sources have told The Washington Post. According to these sources, the President had a tryst with the woman, thirty-four year old Lucia Benoni, a resident of Manhattan, in a hotel in Chicago during his recent visit to that city. The alleged assignation is believed to have been attested to by at least one witness. Both Miss Benoni and Hamid Marfrela, a junior cultural at
taché at the Lebanese Embassy, were shot to death in the North West district of Washington in separate incidents which still have police baffled. Even given the President’s known history of extra-marital liaisons, the present circumstances are giving rise to concern in some quarters. The possible implications of his…’’

  Wade brought his fist down hard on the coffee table.

  ‘I’ve read the article, Ellen,’ he said forcefully. ‘I don’t need to have it read to me again.’

  Ellen replaced the newspaper on the table.

  ‘Really? For a moment, I thought you might not have taken it all in. For a moment, I thought I heard you suggest to Martha that she explain away your head injury and the declaration of a code red, on the same morning this article appears, as a series of coincidences.’

  Wade seemed about to speak, but instead placed one hand over his mouth and was silent for some time.

  ‘Do you have some other suggestion?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘It’s going to sound a little radical.’

  ‘Let’s hear it anyway.’

  ‘All right,’ Ellen said. ‘Why don’t you try telling them the truth for once?’

  Wade rounded on her.

  ‘Now, you listen to me…’

  ‘No.’

  Ellen Trevathan was suddenly in the President’s face, her voice just as insistent as his own.

  ‘No, just for once, Steve, you listen to me. You swore to me that there was no truth in these allegations. You stood in the damned Oval Office and swore to me, after I told you how important it was to me. Well now all the world knows you’re a liar – not just me, and not just The Washington Post. If you had told the truth then, what would have happened? You’d have been embarrassed for a day or two, you would have had a fight with Julia, and it would have been over. The subject would have been closed, forgotten. Now, look what’s happened. You and a Lebanese diplomat screwing the same woman? Don’t you see where Mary Sullivan’s going with this?’

  She picked up the newspaper again. ‘“the present circumstances are giving rise for concern in some quarters”. You don’t get it, Steve, do you? They’re coming after you.’

  ‘Coming after me?’ the President asked. ‘What do you mean?’

  Ellen looked at him pityingly.

  ‘Steve, you’ve handed them the opportunity they’ve been looking for. This administration has made enemies. Surely I don’t have to tell you that. They’re longing, just longing, for a chance to bring us down. And now you’ve given them that chance. You know what our relationship with Lebanon is like. And now you and this Lebanese Marfrela guy are sleeping with the same Lebanese woman? Are you seriously telling me you don’t see the implications of that? Because, believe me, there are those who do.’

  Wade sank slowly back into his chair. He seemed lost in thought for some time.

  ‘But you can’t think… no one could think… it’s not true.’

  ‘Whether or not it’s true isn’t the point,’ the Vice President replied in exasperation. ‘The point is that there’s something to investigate. They can drag this out for the rest of your term, if they want to. So what if you’re exonerated at the end of the day? By then, your reputation will have been destroyed. And, in the meantime, your authority to govern will be hopelessly compromised. You can forget about whatever agenda we had. It’s history. You’re not even going to get the support of your own party.’

  The President had turned pale. ‘You mean someone will call for congressional hearings?’

  ‘That is exactly what I mean. Right, Martha?’

  Martha sighed unhappily.

  ‘That’s what I would read into it.’

  Wade exhaled heavily.

  ‘So what should I say?’

  ‘I’ve already given you my suggestion on that,’ Ellen replied, walking towards the door. ‘But let me just add this. Whatever you say better be good. In fact, it better be damn good. Otherwise, you’re going down.’

  She paused with one hand on the door handle and turned back towards him.

  ‘And let me make this absolutely clear, Steve. I will not let you take me down with you. You should take me very seriously here. I will not let you take me down with you.’

  Steve Wade and Martha Graylor just had time to notice the tears forming in her eyes before Ellen Trevathan turned abruptly and walked out of the room.

  26

  KELLY HAD ARRANGED for Phil Hammond’s call to be patched through to the speakerphone in Ted Lazenby’s office. The call was due just before Kelly was to leave to meet Jeff Morris and Linda Samuels for dinner in Georgetown. Linda had called earlier in the day, saying that she needed to talk. To Kelly’s surprise, however, she had specifically suggested that Jeff join them for dinner. The conference with Phil was expected to be routine. Kelly had been monitoring Hammond’s activities on a daily basis without supervision, and reported to Lazenby each day after speaking with him. So far, there seemed to be no cause for anxiety. But the Director was anxious nonetheless. Like everyone involved, he was acutely aware of the dangers of the operation, and sometimes needed to satisfy himself personally that all was well. Today, Lazenby needed to talk to Phil Hammond himself.

  ‘Phil, I have Kelly with me in my office. How is it going?’

  ‘Good, Director. Hi, Kelly.’

  ‘Hi, Phil.’

  ‘Are you guys keeping up with my messages?’

  ‘Kelly is. I’ll let her answer that one.’

  ‘We’re pretty much up to date, Phil. We’ve checked out everyone you’ve decrypted so far. They’re mostly low-lifes, fellow-travelers, in it for the thrill of the secret society game, one or two Klan types. We don’t see them as much of a threat. But the information is great. Keep it coming. It’s giving us some real insight into their thinking. With any luck, we’ll get some advance billing for any major productions they may have in mind.’

  Kelly stopped, knowing this was not the answer Phil Hammond wanted to hear. There was a silence.

  ‘What about Fox?’ Hammond asked.

  Kelly sighed.

  ‘No news yet, Phil. It’s a type of encryption our people are not familiar with. They’re working on it.’

  She hesitated.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance they might trust you enough now to let you decrypt him yourself?’

  ‘No way,’ Hammond replied. ‘Carlson keeps ‘Fox’ to himself. Even Rogers doesn’t see the Fox material. Look, Director, it’s very difficult getting the material out of the compound. I’m taking a huge chance every time. I’m not complaining, but…’

  ‘I know, Phil,’ Ted Lazenby said. ‘Please believe me, we’re doing our best.’

  There was a silence. Hammond seemed exasperated.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked. ‘I thought our people had the goods on every type of encryption there was.’

  ‘That’s what we thought, too,’ Lazenby said. ‘The analysts are pulling their hair out over it. They’re putting in a lot of time. Something will give eventually. There’s some speculation it may be some kind of older military code, perhaps something Carlson and his associates may have used during their mercenary days in Africa.’

  Lazenby looked down at his desk.

  ‘Actually, Phil, to be honest, they told me to tell you that it would really help to have more material from Fox. They don’t have a lot to go on. They need more volume. I know it’s dangerous for you…’

  ‘It’s not that, Director,’ Hammond said. ‘You already have everything that’s come in. There’s just not much volume from Fox. It’s almost as if he doesn’t speak unless there’s a good reason for it. You get the feeling he, or she, is very conscious of the risks involved. And Carlson’s replies are minimal.’

  ‘Phil,’ Kelly asked, ‘are you close enough to Carlson to know whether he speaks any foreign languages? Maybe he and Fox don’t communicate in English. It would really help to know whether we’re dealing with encrypted English or encrypted something else.’

 
‘I don’t know,’ Hammond replied. ‘I’ll try to think of a way to ask without arousing suspicion.’

  ‘Don’t take any chances,’ Lazenby said firmly. ‘Are you confident your cover is still intact?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, as far as I know.’

  ‘All right,’ Lazenby said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, actually there is. Yesterday, the Portland police recovered the body of a white male, mid-thirties, in a ditch a little way out of town. He had been shot to death, single bullet in the back of the head. Some guy’s dog found it.’

  ‘Anyone we’re interested in?’ Lazenby asked.

  ‘I think I know,’ Kelly said quietly.

  ‘Yes, Sir. The body was not in good shape, so we can’t do any kind of visual ID, but their forensic people got a pretty tight match of a print to the ones recovered from the scene of the Marfrela killing.’

  Lazenby’s eyes opened wide, as he looked at Kelly Smith.

  ‘Our mountain man?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. Looks like it.’

  ‘No ID on the body, driver’s licence, credit card, whatever?’

  ‘Not a thing. We have a provisional make on him under the name of Janner. The Los Angeles police have him as a suspect for a bank robbery down there the year before last. We may or may not be able to confirm that in a couple of days.’

  ‘Any hard evidence linking the body to the Sons of the Flag?’

  ‘No, Sir. The police think he was killed somewhere else and dumped there, so it could have been done at the compound. But if my associates did it, they didn’t tell me about it. Do you want me to…?’

  Lazenby looked at Kelly, shaking his head vigorously.

  ‘No, Phil, no way,’ Kelly said. ‘No point. Those cases are closed. Don’t take any risks for that. If you happen to hear something unsolicited, fine. Otherwise, don’t go there.’

  ‘OK,’ Hammond said. ‘I think that’s about it. Talk to you tomorrow, Kelly. Good night, Director.’

  * * *

  ‘God, I wish that were true,’ Lazenby said almost to himself, as he pressed the button to cut off Hammond’s call.

  Kelly looked up. ‘Excuse me, Sir?’

  Lazenby turned to look directly at her.