Removal

by Murphy, Peter

‘I want to say one other thing. If anyone wants to leave, if anyone feels they cannot be part of what we’re doing here, I understand. I can’t force anyone to get involved. But if you want to leave, do it now. An hour or two from now, I may not be able to allow it. All I require is that you keep the confidentiality of what has been said in this room. If you agree to that, you are free to go, with my thanks for everything you have done up to now. If you remain, then I must demand your absolute loyalty. Don’t be afraid to speak up. Does anyone want out?’

  The President’s eyes fell on Linda Samuels and Gary Mills.

  ‘What about you, Agent Samuels? Agent Mills? Will you continue to protect me?’

  Linda stood. For a moment, she had difficulty in focusing her eyes. She was aware of the gaze of everyone in the room.

  ‘You’re the President, Sir. We will do our duty by you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Steve Wade said.

  * * *

  When the call came, Carlson was standing as close as he could get to the top of the Capitol steps, where a line of heavily-armed Marines stood shoulder-to-shoulder, holding the crowd at bay. On hearing his mobile phone ring, Carlson turned his back on the Marines and made a space for himself to answer in the midst of the people standing around him.

  ‘This is Carlson,’ he said, holding the receiver as close as possible to his mouth and pulling the top of his coat down over it.

  ‘Carlson, this is Fox,’ the voice said.

  Instantly, Carlson’s mind came to attention.

  ‘I heard you spent your vacation in France?’

  ‘No, I prefer Italy.’

  ‘Acknowledged. Thank you, Fox.’

  ‘Is everything under control?’

  ‘That’s affirmative, Fox,’ Carlson replied. ‘Is everything under control at your end?’

  ‘Everything’s going according to plan.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Make sure you stay in contact. Things are going to move very quickly from now on.’

  ‘Roger that, Fox.’

  The line went dead.

  ‘Good news?’ Rogers asked.

  ‘Good news,’ Carlson replied. ‘We’re almost there.’

  46

  STAGE FRIGHT WAS a new experience for Ed Monahan. Before today, he had never been able to understand why some lawyers felt nervous before going into court. For Monahan, appearing in front of a judge or jury was as natural as taking a shower in the morning. Like all good trial lawyers, he experienced a mild rush as he stood to cross-examine a witness or make a closing argument, but it had never been a problem. On the contrary, he had learned to value the added sharpness of mind it gave him in his mental battles with witnesses, judges, and opposing counsel. Even during the impeachment he had felt nothing more than the usual rush. But then again, there was little for him to do, except make a few objections which the Chief Justice overruled with the kind of summary verbal blow to the head for which he was famous. Opening statements were brief and to the point. The House manager’s counsel was good. Her opening statement gave away little information about the case she intended to present, so Monahan decided to reserve the substance of his defense for his closing argument. There were no witnesses. The Senate agreed with the Prosecution that they could rely on the record developed by the House Intelligence Committee. Monahan decided not to call witnesses for the defense, because he saw nothing they could usefully say. The President’s only hope was that the Senate would find the evidence against him to be insufficient. And now, it was Monahan’s job to persuade them of that. Monahan had won one battle. He had persuaded the Chief Justice that closing arguments should be given after the senators had made whatever statements they wished to make, rather than before. At least, this way, he did not have to worry about sixty-seven or more speeches to which he had no right of reply. Even so, what they said left him in no doubt that, if the President were to have any hope at all, this would have to be the best closing argument of his career. Like everyone else in the Senate Chamber, he was aware of the large and vocal crowd and the Marines outside the building, and he could only guess at the effect that was having on his audience. The closing argument for the House was effective. Counsel sounded confident, apparently feeling that she was pushing on an open door. Now, it was his turn, the eyes of the entire world were on him in real time and, for the first time in his life, Ed Monahan had stage fright.

  ‘You may proceed, Mr. Monahan,’ the Chief Justice was saying.

  Monahan stood, took a sip of water, and walked slowly to the podium. He had no notes with him. Dispensing with notes during closing arguments was a trick he had learned early in his career. It impressed juries, and demonstrated his command of the case. He considered notes to be the equivalent of a comfort blanket anyway, a diversion for the hands, a prop to reassure the speaker that there was somewhere to turn to if his mind suddenly went blank. He had never understood how a lawyer could try a case for several days and still need notes to make his closing argument. At least, not until now. But, nervous as he was, he forced himself to rely on the techniques which had brought him so far in his career. Standing at the podium, he cleared his throat, and tried to ignore the stares focused on him, the lights shining in his eyes, and the expectant silence which pervaded the Chamber.

  ‘Thank you, Your Honor. May it please you, Mr. Chief Justice, members of the Senate, distinguished Counsel. If you will indulge me for a moment, I must begin by saying what an honor it is for me to have represented President Wade during these proceedings. Steve Wade has served his country well during a career devoted to public service. As a prosecutor, state legislator, governor, and finally as President of the United States for two terms, he has given outstanding leadership and service. And I believe this alone should give us all pause, before we rush to judgment and condemn him in these highly political proceedings. We should be surprised, and we should be loath to believe, that a man with Steve Wade’s record of public service could have done the things of which he stands accused. We should also remember that this is not a trial in the sense that we use that term in the law courts. It is a political proceeding, initiated by the President’s opponents, and intended to bring about a political result. The crime of which he is accused is vague and ill-defined, and I submit to you that you should not even consider taking a decision as grave as removing from office the President of the United States without the clearest possible evidence. That evidence is wholly lacking.’

  Monahan surveyed the Chamber. They were listening. His nervousness began to subside.

  ‘The House has chosen not to present evidence from witnesses. Why – you may ask? What did they have to fear? Was it, perhaps, that they preferred not to expose the evidence to the test of cross-examination, which a distinguished legal writer many years ago called ‘the greatest engine ever invented for the discovery of truth’? Whatever their motives, they chose to rely on the record of legislative proceedings in which there was no opportunity for the President to challenge what was said. The Senate agreed to that course of action. But I must point out again that now you will not have the opportunity to hear that evidence challenged, and perhaps to discover its weaknesses and inconsistencies. And I, on behalf of the President, can only do my best to expose its flaws as they appear from the record developed by the House Intelligence Committee. You don’t have to look too closely to see some of these flaws. Take Harold Jeffers, for example. A man who, on his own admission, accepted three hundred dollars as a bribe not to talk about what he claims he saw in that hotel room in Chicago. But he did talk about it, didn’t he? At some length. You may ask yourselves, why? Was it out of a sense of public duty? Or was it that someone, perhaps one of the President’s enemies, offered him another bribe, perhaps more than three hundred dollars, to come forward with his story? We will never know, and the reason we will never know is because the House lacked the confidence to expose him to cross-examination. And Jeffers is just one example. So I submit that you must look very carefully at the evidence, very carefully indeed
. What exactly does the evidence show?

  ‘You heard that the President had an affair with a woman called Lucia Benoni, and that he lied about it. Members of the Senate, I hope we can all agree that President Wade was not the first man in public life to lie about an affair, and I seriously doubt that he will be the last.’

  This was greeted with some chuckles and whispered conversations around the floor, which Monahan took to be a good sign.

  ‘However much we may disapprove of that conduct, and let me make it clear that I do not attempt to defend it, I hope you would accept that it is not a ground for impeachment. What else does the evidence prove? Miss Benoni was also the lover of a man called Hamid Marfrela. Marfrela was a Lebanese diplomat, who was in contact with certain white supremacist groups in Oregon. There is evidence that he and some of his friends set up a company, Middle and Near East Holdings, Incorporated. This company contributed money to an organization called the Western States Geophysical Research Institute, and that organization made contributions to the President’s party. What’s so remarkable about that? Nothing. Because everything I have just described to you was legal. It violated no law, no code of conduct. In fact, there is no credible evidence that the President even knew that it was going on. But the House uses those facts to build a fantasy of epic proportions. Using inference on inference, supposition on supposition, they have created an illusion that there was something sinister going on, that the President was accepting inducements to do something nameless, which they can’t really even describe to you, but which, in some undefined manner, affected our national security. The question you must consider is whether there is any evidence at all to support this fantasy, or whether it is merely wishful thinking on the part of the President’s enemies. I believe that, when you have asked that question, the answer is clear. This impeachment is a house built on sand, a house without foundation. Has any evidence been presented that our national security has in fact suffered? No. Has any evidence been presented to show that the President ever met, ever talked to Hamid Marfrela? No. Has any evidence been presented that he ever communicated with white supremacists? No. The whole case is speculation. You could not convict a shoplifter on such evidence in any court in the United States, let alone impeach the President.

  ‘Now, although it is not my intention to detain you for long, I must go through certain of the evidence relied on by Counsel for the House, and deal with some of the arguments she made.’

  For another hour, Monahan pulled out all the stops, picking apart every piece of evidence and every argument against the President. His stage fright was now forgotten. He was in full flow. The Senate listened attentively to every word. Finally, he was ready to close.

  ‘And so, I submit to you that the evidence is wholly insufficient, and that it is your duty to reject the Article of Impeachment brought against President Wade. In conclusion, let me just say this. There is more at stake here than the future of Steve Wade, the career of one man. This isn’t just an attack on the President. It’s an attack on the Presidency. What is at stake today is nothing less than the integrity of our nation’s institutions of government. Politicians may rejoice in the opportunity to heap ruin on an opponent, regardless of the cost to America. But it takes a statesman, or a stateswoman, to put Country before Party, to put the Presidency before partisan opportunism. Today, I’m asking you to be statesmen and stateswomen. I’m asking you to put America first, to safeguard the Presidency against partisan political attack. Thank you.’

  Monahan made no immediate move to leave the podium. Don’t be in a hurry, his instinct told him. Leave slowly and with confidence. As he was about to move, he saw the Senate Minority Leader get to his feet. Monahan stayed in place.

  ‘Mr. Chief Justice, my colleague, Senator O’Brien, asks if it would be in order for him to put one or two questions to Counsel for the President?’

  The Chief Justice drew himself up in his chair. ‘Senator, I ruled that Counsel would make closing arguments after each senator had his or her say.’

  ‘I understand that, Your Honor, but…’

  Monahan knew he had no choice. He had hoped to have the decisive last word, but he could hardly deny the senators the chance to ask a question. He would have to turn it into an opportunity to make points of his own.

  ‘Mr. Chief Justice,’ he said, as calmly as he could, ‘if the members of the Senate have questions and time remains, I would be glad to answer.’

  The Chief Justice nodded.

  ‘Very well. You may proceed.’

  ‘Mr. Chief Justice,’ the Minority Leader said, ‘I yield to my colleague, Senator O’Brien.’

  ‘Thank you, Senator,’ O’Brien said, getting to his feet. He was holding a small notepad at which he was peering through his reading glasses. ‘Mr. Monahan, the Senate is grateful to you for your excellent presentation on the President’s behalf.’

  Monahan bowed his head slightly, trying to remember how many times a compliment of that kind from the bench had been a prelude to disaster.

  ‘But I do have one or two questions. Firstly, is it not true that Ms. Benoni was murdered, and that the police were satisfied that her murderer was Mr. Marfrela?’

  ‘That is correct, Senator.’

  ‘And is it not also true that Mr. Marfrela himself was murdered, apparently by someone connected to the white supremacist group calling itself the Sons of the Flag?’

  ‘So the police believe. I don’t think that has been conclusively established.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ O’Brien replied. ‘But I am informed that many of the demonstrators who are presently surrounding this building, in an apparent attempt to influence the outcome of our vote, are in fact members of the Sons of the Flag and similar groups. I wonder if you think that is just coincidental, or whether you have any comment on it?’

  Monahan thought over his answer for several seconds.

  ‘Senator, I regret that I do not have any information about that. There has been no evidence about it, and I do not think it would be right for either of us to speculate about it.’

  Senator O’Brien stood for a moment, and listened to the muttered conversations which had broken out around the Chamber.

  ‘Well, whether or not there has been evidence about it,’ he continued, ‘is it your position that we should just ignore it?’

  Monahan swallowed hard.

  ‘All I’m saying, Senator, is that it would be unfair to blame the President for anything like that, when it has not even been suggested that he has any connection to what’s going on.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s the suggestion I’m making,’ O’Brien said. ‘It would be particularly unfortunate if this demonstration intimidated us into taking the wrong decision. And, I must say, I do find it intimidating, even though it will not cause me to change my vote.’

  ‘I’m not sure what other response I can make, Senator,’ Monahan replied. He looked up briefly at the Chief Justice, who nodded.

  ‘Counsel’s point is well taken,’ the Chief Justice said. ‘Of course, the Senate may take into account whatever it wishes in these proceedings. But Mr. Monahan is correct in pointing out that there has been no evidence to connect the President with whatever is going on outside.’

  ‘I yield the remaining portion of my time back to the Minority Leader,’ O’Brien said, returning to his seat.

  Moments later, Ed Monahan left the podium. He turned to his associate, Brenda Matthews.

  ‘Nice job,’ she said. ‘I think you changed some minds.’

  ‘Not enough,’ Monahan replied.

  47

  ED MONAHAN HAD changed exactly five minds. It was an impressive achievement, but the House still had sixty-nine votes, two more than they needed for their two-thirds majority. The vote would appear dramatic, but the result was inevitable. The procedure seemed interminable, and the television commentators played up the drama and the historical significance of the vote for all they were worth, but it became clear to all present that history was being mad
e, that a President of the United States was to be impeached successfully for the first time. When, late in the afternoon, the Chief Justice finally announced the result, many senators and their aides bolted and made straight for the exits. They need not have hurried. They found the doors guarded by Marines, flanked by an ugly crowd of demonstrators shouting slogans. The Marines informed them, politely but firmly, that for their own safety they would not be allowed out of the building until further notice. Shortly afterwards, the electricity and water supplies and the telephone land lines to the building were disconnected. Mobile phone coverage and internet access were suddenly intermittent, if available at all.

  The first female President of the United States took the oath of office in Houston, Texas, in the student lounge of a law school, standing by the vending machines and the magazine racks. Instead of a full complement of the nation’s officials and a cheering crowd, she was accompanied only by a handful of Secret Service and FBI agents, her acting FBI Chief, and her Attorney-General designate. There was no parade, no inaugural ball and, after her swearing-in, the new President went straight to work. She walked upstairs to her second floor office, where Kelly Smith called Ted Lazenby and put him on speakerphone.

  ‘Congratulations, Madam President,’ Lazenby said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ellen said. ‘I think. Tell me what you know.’

  Lazenby sighed into the phone. ‘Well, first, for all practical purposes, the Senate is under siege,’ he said. ‘My guess is Wade isn’t going to let them out until they take another vote more to his liking.’

  Ellen sat down hard in her chair. ‘God in Heaven.’

  ‘We’re in contact with them spasmodically by mobile phone, at least for now, though someone is doing their best to cut off network coverage. The land lines are down, and the electricity and water have been turned off. We don’t know about food and medical supplies as yet. Hessler’s boys are making sure they stay locked in there. Which is probably just as well, because there’s a very large, very angry crowd of supremacists and other assorted fine citizens out there also, and they’re not even hiding their weapons any more. The Marines are all that’s standing between the mob and the Senate.’