‘I’m not sure what you mean, Congresswoman. What kind of noises?’
‘I don’t know. That’s what I’m asking you. What did you hear?’
‘You can’t hear too much through the door. I heard their voices.’
‘Talking?’
‘Yes.’
‘Laughing?’
‘Yes, once or twice.’
‘Nothing else?’
Linda felt herself turning red. Her stomach was churning.
‘May I have a moment to confer with counsel?’
Helen de Vries raised her eyebrows and glanced at the Chairman.
‘By all means,’ Moberley said.
Linda turned to Sue, whispering.
‘Miss Williams, I can’t do this.’
‘Linda, we’ve been over this,’ Sue answered. ‘You have to answer.’
‘I can’t. It’s disloyal.’
‘No, it’s not, Linda. You have no choice.’
There was a silence.
‘Whenever you’re ready,’ Moberley said impatiently.
‘I’m sorry,’ Linda whispered to Sue. She turned back to face Helen de Vries. ‘Congresswoman, anything I might say would be no more than speculation. I did not go into the President’s suite that evening. I don’t know what was going on inside.’
‘That’s not what I’m asking,’ de Vries said smoothly. ‘I’m not asking you to speculate. I’m asking you to describe what you heard as best you can. I’m sure the Committee will be quite capable of drawing its own conclusions. I’m merely asking you to tell us what you heard.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Linda said. ‘I must decline to answer.’
The noise which broke out after the initial shocked silence took Chairman Moberley over a minute to suppress. Everyone was talking at once. The reporters were in top gear, pencils flying hurriedly over pages. Several left to alert the media that a major story might be about to break. When order had at last been restored, Helen de Vries deferred to the Chair to deal with the situation.
‘Agent Samuels,’ he said slowly, ‘You are represented by counsel, and I’m sure you have been advised that there is no privilege attached to your testimony here today. Would you like to confer with your counsel again?’
‘No, Sir,’ Linda replied evenly. ‘I understand the position.’
‘In that case, would you care to explain to the Committee the basis on which you decline to answer?’
‘Loyalty,’ Linda replied simply. ‘I will not put the President in the position of being condemned because of what I might or might not have heard. As I’ve already said, I wasn’t in his suite, and I don’t know what was going on or not going on inside.’
To complete silence, the Chairman weighed the position, and turned briefly to confer with an aide. Sue Williams tried to get Linda’s attention, but was dismissed with a curt shake of the head. At the back of the room, Kelly and Jeff exchanged horrified looks. John Mason looked surreptitiously across at Selvey, who seemed amused by the proceedings.
‘Well, Agent Samuels,’ Moberley said at last, ‘loyalty is an admirable virtue, but I think a little misplaced in this situation. I’m going to have to ask you again to answer my colleague’s question. If you wish, you may confer with counsel again. But if you refuse to answer, I will have to call for a vote of the Committee as to whether you should be held in contempt. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Good. Are you prepared to answer the question?’
‘No, Sir,’ Linda said, swallowing hard.
Sue grabbed her arm. ‘Linda, for Christ’s sake,’ she only half whispered.
Linda threw off Sue’s grip on her arm.
At the back of the room, Kelly put her hands up to her face.
‘Linda, don’t do this,’ she breathed.
Vernon Moberley pulled himself up in his chair.
‘I call for a vote on the question of whether the witness should be held in contempt,’ he said.
The vote was taken, and by a vote split on party lines, Linda Samuels was held to be in contempt of the House Intelligence Committee.
‘Before taking any further action,’ the Chairman said, ‘I will give you one last chance. Will you answer the question?’
Linda had turned white, but seemed outwardly calm.
‘No, Sir. I will not,’ she said.
Moberley nodded.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘The House Officer will take the witness into custody until such time as she is prepared to comply with the Committee’s orders.’
Pandemonium broke loose in the hearing room, which the Chairman’s gavel was powerless to control. Sue Williams leapt to her feet, her protests lost, however, in the general din, as Linda was led from the room. Kelly put her head on Jeff’s shoulder and sighed. The Chairman was trying to declare that the proceedings were recessed pending the restoration of order, but no one was taking much notice of him. The Committee members remained where they were.
John Mason sprang to his feet and walked quickly across the room to Selvey. ‘Is our friend ready?’ he asked.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Selvey countered.
‘You brought him into this. You tell me.’
‘Mr. Jeffers is standing by, ready to go,’ Selvey said brusquely.
‘OK, I’ll give the Committee’s counsel the nod.’
Mason turned away, and then suddenly back to Selvey again.
‘But he has been prepared, hasn’t he, Selvey? I mean, he knows what answers are expected to certain questions?’
Selvey smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it, Mr. Mason. Our Harold will be as good as gold.’
‘I certainly hope so,’ Mason said grimly to himself, as he made his way towards the front of the room.
After a short conversation with Mason, the Committee’s counsel approached the dais and whispered briefly to the Chairman. The noise was dying down by now, and the Chairman was eventually able to restore order.
‘It was my intention to recess the proceedings,’ Moberley said, ‘but it has been brought to my attention that another witness is available. We will take testimony from this witness, after which the Committee will be in recess for the weekend, and will resume proceedings on Monday morning. We will now hear from Harold Jeffers.’
Angela Moran, the leader of the President’s party’s minority on the Committee, searched her papers in vain, and exchanged whispered remarks with her colleagues, who were none the wiser.
‘On a point of order, Mr. Chairman,’ she said. ‘I don’t find this witness among those listed in the documents supplied to me by your office. I thought we had an understanding that we would be notified in advance of the witnesses to be called, so that we might have an opportunity to prepare. This is rather irregular, to say the least.’
‘I share the Honorable Lady’s surprise,’ the Chairman said suavely. ‘Counsel for the Committee has just notified me of the availability of this witness, and has confirmed that the witness has some information which may be relevant. I see no reason not to proceed. Of course, I will allow the minority the weekend to prepare any questions they may wish to ask, having heard his testimony.’
The minority leader looked questioningly at her colleagues, wondering whether to call for a vote on the point of order. Seeing no advantage in losing a further vote on party lines, they shook their heads, and Angela Moran accepted their judgment.
The Chair had delegated the primary examination of Harold Jeffers to Helen de Vries. It was a wise move. De Vries had many years of experience in dealing with witnesses like Jeffers, and would not be put off by his nervousness or his tendency to ramble. Jeffers certainly looked the part. Selvey had seen to that personally. He was smartly dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and red tie, his black shoes shined. De Vries began with details of his name, family, and occupation, using her most polished professional style to paint a sympathetic portrait of a devoted long-time employee. The press was eating up every word. Before turning to the main subject of her ex
amination, Helen de Vries signposted it with a lengthy pause.
‘Mr. Jeffers, you have described in general terms your duties at the hotel during the President’s visit. But now, I want to ask you about a particular occasion. Did there come a time when the President requested you to bring something up to his suite?’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
‘What time was this?’
‘During the evening. About eight, eight-thirty.’
‘And what did the President request?’
‘A bottle of champagne and two glasses.’
‘Did you take those items to the President’s suite?’
‘I did.’
‘How did you gain admittance to the suite?’
‘I checked in with the Secret Service Agent on duty, and…’
‘Before you get to that, do you know that agent’s name?’
‘Yes. It was Agent Linda Samuels.’
‘Thank you. Continue.’
‘I knocked on the door of the suite. There was no reply, so I decided to enter. I probably should have waited, but there seemed no need.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t want to keep the President waiting?’
‘No, Ma’am.’
‘So you went in. What did you see?’
The moment had arrived. Jeffers was feeling hot under the lights, and his shirt collar was sticking to his neck. Selvey had warned him that his appearance before the Committee would not be a comfortable experience, but it was worse than he expected. He was beginning to sweat profusely. Forcing himself to concentrate, he summoned up Selvey’s instructions. Remain serious, be strictly factual, and avoid obscene euphemisms. He hoped he would remember the correct vocabulary for what he had to describe.
‘I saw the President and Miss Benoni lying together on the couch in the living room.’
There were audible gasps from the audience. Vernon Moberley was so fascinated by the story which was unfolding that it took him some seconds before he rapped his gavel for order.
‘What was their state of dress?’ Helen de Vries asked calmly.
‘Ma’am, they had both taken off their shoes. The President’s shirt was partly undone, as was Miss Benoni’s blouse.’
‘I see. And were you able to observe anything they might have been doing?’
‘Yes, Ma’am. I was able to observe that the President had his hand on the general area of Miss Benoni’s left breast, and that she had her hand in the general area of the President’s genitals.’
The audience snickered. Vernon Moberley ignored it, and waited for the noise to subside, before gesturing to Helen de Vries to continue.
‘And then what happened?’ Helen asked, with undisguised contempt.
‘I was very embarrassed. I put the champagne and the glasses on the table as quickly as I could and started to leave.’
‘And as you were leaving, did anything else happen?’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
‘Please tell the Committee what it was.’
‘Ma’am, as I was leaving, Miss Benoni got up, ran after me and gave me some money.’
‘How much money?’
‘Three hundred dollars.’
‘Three hundred dollars in cash?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did that compare with the kind of tip you would normally expect to receive from guests at your hotel?’
‘It was very generous.’
There was a gale of laughter. Helen de Vries joined in, playing to the gallery and the cameras.
‘I’m sure. Did Miss Benoni offer any explanation for this unexpected largesse?’
‘She said I was supposed to keep quiet about what I had seen.’
‘And where was the President when Miss Benoni gave you this money?’
‘He was still on the couch.’
‘In the same room?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just a few feet away?’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Jeffers,’ Helen de Vries said. She turned to Vernon Moberley. ‘Mr. Chairman, may I suggest that we recess now, so that both I and my honorable friends can consider what further questions we may have for Mr. Jeffers on Monday?’
Moberley looked across at Angela Moran.
‘Mr. Chairman, may I have a moment to confer with my colleagues?’ Angela asked.
‘By all means.’
Angela turned to Dick Stinson, a young up-and-coming congressman from California who had made a name for himself as a trial lawyer before being elected to the House. They spoke in whispered tones.
‘Does this seem strange to you?’ Angela asked.
‘It’s beyond strange. How come de Vries was able to do that perfect direct examination without prior warning?’
‘Right. What should we do? Get out of here and figure out what to do over the weekend?’
‘Let me get a couple of digs in now,’ Stinson suggested, ‘just to let the press know we’re still in the game. Just to give them something to think about.’
Angela nodded.
‘Mr. Chairman, I ask to yield one minute of my time to the Honorable Gentleman from California, after which I would be content to recess for the weekend.’
‘So ordered,’ Moberley said obligingly.
‘Thank you, Mr. Chairman,’ Stinson began. ‘Mr. Jeffers, you say you accepted three hundred dollars from Miss Benoni, is that right?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘And in return for that three hundred dollars, you were to keep quiet about what you say you saw. Is that also right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, you must not feel too good about yourself today?’
Jeffers hesitated. The sweat on his forehead was building up. His entire shirt was sticking to his body. Had Selvey told him how to answer this question? It sounded familiar, but somehow he could not quite remember.
‘I don’t understand the question,’ he ventured lamely.
‘Well,’ Stinson continued, ‘you haven’t kept quiet about it, have you?’
‘No. I suppose not.’
‘What persuaded you to speak out, Mr. Jeffers?’
The sweat was now dripping into his eyes, making it difficult to focus. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes and brow.
‘I suppose I thought it was the right thing to do.’
‘Really?’ Stinson said. ‘I don’t suppose, by any chance, that you were offered something, perhaps more than three hundred dollars, to change your mind?’
Jeffers almost choked. The room had gone completely silent.
‘No. Of course not. I just thought it was…’
His voice trailed away.
Stinson made sure the whole room saw his look of disgust.
‘Well, let me just ask you this, Mr. Jeffers, just so the record is clear. Is it your testimony under oath before this House Intelligence Committee that you have not accepted any money or consideration associated with your testimony, other than the three hundred dollars you received from Miss Benoni? Is that your testimony?’
‘Yes,’ Jeffers replied, almost inaudibly.
‘I can’t hear, Mr. Jeffers,’ Vernon Moberley intervened. ‘What was your answer?’
Jeffers swallowed hard. ‘I said ‘yes’,’ he replied, only a little more loudly.
Stinson nodded briefly and sat back in his chair.
‘I yield back any balance of my time to the minority Chair,’ he said.
Helen de Vries contemplated asking the Chair for a little more time to have the last word, but Jeffers’ manner persuaded her not to do so. Everything was fine, she told herself. The testimony of Harold Jeffers had been heard, and would be headline news on every television channel and every radio station that night, and in every newspaper the following morning.
However, having been affected more than she would have cared to admit by the earlier events of the day, she also suggested to the Chairman that, in the light of Jeffers’ testimony, there would be little purpose in any further questioning of Linda Samuels. She m
ade a motion that Agent Samuels be released from custody, without prejudice to the finding that she was in contempt of the Committee. A vote was taken, and the motion was agreed to unanimously. Then the Committee recessed for the weekend.
32
BY THE TIME Harold Philby and Mary Sullivan had watched the highlights of the House Intelligence Committee’s proceedings, which Irene had recorded for them during the day, it was after two o’clock in the morning. They were both very tired. Cold remains of a pepperoni pizza and plastic cups of cold black coffee competed for space on the conference room table with the stacks of paper which now comprised Mary’s research on Hamid Marfrela. Irene had eagerly offered to sit up with them but, to her disappointment, Harold Philby had thanked her for her work and sent her home. There were matters he had to discuss with Mary Sullivan which were not for Irene’s ears.
‘It’s hard to believe the Committee hasn’t cottoned on to the Oregon angle,’ Philby remarked. ‘Do you think they really don’t know about it?’
‘Apparently,’ Mary replied. ‘I would have expected some questions to Lazenby about it if they did.’
‘So would I,’ Philby agreed.
‘Maybe they have a surprise witness next week.’
‘Maybe. It’s still strange that they didn’t raise it with Lazenby. And they had that other agent who worked on the Marfrela murder, what was her name?’
Mary consulted her notes. ‘Kelly Smith.’
‘Smith, right. It just doesn’t add up.’
‘Well, add up or not, I’m falling asleep,’ Mary admitted, leaning back in her chair. ‘Let’s go home for the weekend and think about it. I’ll have my phone on if you want to give me a call.’
Philby shook his head.
‘We need to stay a few minutes longer, Mary,’ he said. ‘We have to decide what to do with this.’
Mary yawned. ‘I thought we already decided,’ she said. ‘I thought the only question was how we write it.’
Philby nodded.
‘The Committee has decided that for us, hasn’t it? We started out with three possible stories, remember? But now, we know what the story is. Or at least, we think we do. But we have some facts the Committee apparently doesn’t have, facts which could take this thing in a new direction. So we’re back to square one. The question is, do we publish?’
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