The Fourth K

by Mario Puzo

  Jeralyn was not fooled by Christian’s good humor. She knew she had to be very careful or her whole life might go down the drain. Klee was Attorney General of the United States, and had acquired the reputation of being a very dangerous man. He could give her more trouble than she could handle, even though her ace in the hole was Martin Mutford. She said, “I didn’t have anything to do with all that. Sure, I gave Dazzy the key to one of the apartments upstairs. But hell, that was just a courtesy of the house. There are no records of any kind. Nobody could pin anything on me or Dazzy.”

  “Sure, I know that,” Christian said. “But don’t you see, that lobbyist would never dare pull that shit on his own? Somebody higher up told him what to do.”

  Jeralyn said uneasily, “Christian, I swear I never blabbed to anyone. I would never put my restaurant in jeopardy. I’m not that dumb.”

  “I know, I know,” Christian said reassuringly. “But you and Martin have been very good friends for a very long time. You may have told him, just as a piece of gossip.”

  Now Jeralyn was really horrified. Suddenly she was between two powerful men who were about to do battle. More than anything else in the world she wanted to step outside the arena. She also knew that the worst thing to do was lie.

  “Martin would never try such a dumb thing,” she said. “Not that kind of stupid blackmail.” By saying this, she admitted she had told Martin and yet could deny that she had explicitly confessed.

  Christian was still reassuring. He saw that she had not guessed the real purpose of his visit. He said, “Eugene Dazzy told the lobbyist to go fuck himself. Then he told me the story and I said I would take care of it. Now, of course, I know they can’t expose Dazzy. For one thing, I’d come down on you and this place so hard you’d think a tank hit you. You’d have to identify all the people in Congress who used those apartments. There would be one hell of a scandal. Your friend was just hoping Dazzy would lose his nerve. But Eugene figured that one out.”

  Jeralyn was still unbelieving. “Martin would never instigate something so dangerous. He’s a banker.” She smiled at Christian, who sighed and decided it was time to get tough.

  “Listen, Jeralyn,” he said. “Do I have to remind you that old ‘Take It Private’ Martin is not your usual nice stolid conservative banker. He’s had a few trouble spots in his life. And he didn’t make his billions by playing it safe. He’s cut things a bit close before.” He paused for a moment. “Now he’s meddling in something very dangerous for you and for him.”

  Jeralyn gave a contemptuous wave of her hand. “You said yourself you knew I had nothing to do with whatever the hell he is doing.”

  “True,” Christian said. “I know that. But now Martin is a man I have to watch. And I want you to help me watch him.”

  Jeralyn was adamant. “Like hell,” she said. “Martin has always treated me decently. He’s a real friend.”

  Christian said, “I don’t want you to be a spy. I don’t want any information about his business dealings or about his personal life. All I’m asking is that if you know anything or find out any moves he’s going to make against the President, you give me fair warning.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” Jeralyn said. “Get the hell out of here, I have to get ready for the supper crowd.”

  “Sure,” Christian said amiably. “I’m leaving. But remember this, I am the Attorney General of the United States. We’re in tough times and it doesn’t hurt to have me as a friend. So use your own judgment when the time comes. If you slip me just a little warning, no one will ever know. Use your own good sense.”

  He left. He had accomplished his purpose. Jeralyn might tell Martin Mutford about their interview, which was fine, for that would make Mutford more cautious. Or she would not tell Martin and when the time came she’d snitch. Either way he couldn’t lose.

  The driver cut off the siren and they were gliding through the gates of the Oracle’s estate. Christian noted that there were three limousines waiting in the circular driveway. And it was curious that the drivers were in their seats behind the wheel and not outside smoking cigarettes. Beside each car lounged a tall well-dressed man. Christian nailed them at once. Bodyguards. So the Oracle had important visitors. And this must be why the old man had summoned him so urgently.

  Christian was greeted by the butler, who led him to a living room furnished for a conference. The Oracle was in his wheelchair waiting. Around the table were four members of the Socrates Club. Christian was surprised to see them. His latest report had been that all four were in California.

  The Oracle motored his wheelchair to the head of the table. “You must forgive me, Christian, for this slight deception,” he said. “I felt that it was important that you meet with my friends at this critical time. They are anxious to talk to you.”

  Servants had set the conference table with coffee and sandwiches. There were also drinks being served, the servers summoned by a buzzer the Oracle could reach beneath the table. The four members of the Socrates Club had already refreshed themselves. Martin Mutford had lit a huge cigar and unbuttoned his collar, loosened his tie. He looked a little grim, but Christian knew that this grimness was often a tightening of the muscles to conceal fear.

  He said, “Martin, Eugene Dazzy told me one of your lobbyists gave him some bad advice today. I hope you had nothing to do with that.”

  “Dazzy can weed out good from bad,” Mutford said. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be the President’s chief of staff.”

  “Sure, he can,” Christian said. “And he doesn’t need advice from me on how to break balls. But I can give him a hand.”

  Christian could see that the Oracle and George Greenwell did not know what he was talking about. But Lawrence Salentine and Louis Inch were smiling slightly.

  Inch said impatiently, “That’s unimportant, not relevant to our meeting here tonight.”

  “What the hell is the purpose?” Christian said.

  It was Salentine who answered him in a smooth calming voice—he was used to handling confrontations. “This is a very difficult time,” he said. “I think even a dangerous time. All responsible people must work together for a solution. All the people here favor the deposing of President Kennedy for a period of thirty days. Congress will vote tomorrow night in special session. Vice President Du Pray’s refusal to sign makes things difficult, but not impossible. It would be very helpful if you as a member of the President’s personal staff would sign. That is what we are asking you to do.”

  Christian was so astonished he could not answer. The Oracle broke in. “I agree. It will be better for Kennedy not to handle this particular issue. His action today was completely irrational and springs from a desire for vengeance. It could lead to terrible events. Christian, I implore you to listen to these men.”

  Christian said very deliberately, “There is not one chance in hell.” He spoke directly to the Oracle. “How could you be party to this? How can you, of all people, be against me?”

  The Oracle shook his head. “I’m not against you,” he said.

  Salentine said, “He can’t just destroy fifty billion dollars because he suffered a personal tragedy. That’s not what democracy is about.”

  Christian had regained his composure. He said in a reasonable tone of voice, “That is not the truth. Francis Kennedy has thought this out. He doesn’t want the hijackers to string us along for weeks, milking TV time on your networks, Mr. Salentine, with the United States being held up to ridicule. For Christ’s sake, they killed the Pope of the Catholic Church, they murdered the daughter of the President of the United States. You want to negotiate with them now? You want to set the killer of the Pope free? You call yourself patriots? You say you worry about this country? You are a bunch of hypocrites.”

  For the first time, George Greenwell spoke. “What about the other hostages? Are you willing to sacrifice them?”

  And Christian shot back without thinking, “Yes.” He paused and then said, “I think the President’s way is the best possible chance to
get them out alive.”

  Greenwell said, “Bert Audick is in Sherhaben now, as you know. He has assured us that he can persuade the hijackers and the Sultan to release the remaining hostages.”

  Christian said contemptuously, “I heard him assure the President of the United States that no harm would come to Theresa Kennedy. And now she’s dead.”

  Salentine said, “Mr. Klee, we can argue all these minor points till doomsday. We haven’t got the time. We were hoping you would join us and make it easier. What must be done will be done whether you agree to it or not. I assure you of that. But why make this struggle more divisive? Why not serve the President by working with us?”

  Christian looked at him coldly. “Don’t bullshit me. Let me tell you this, I know you men carry a lot of weight in this country, weight that is unconstitutional. My office will investigate all of you as soon as this crisis is over.”

  Greenwell gave a sigh. The violent and senseless ire of young men was boring to a man of his experience and age. He said to Christian, “Mr. Klee, we all thank you for coming. And I hope there will be no personal animosity. We are acting to help our country.”

  Christian said, “You are acting to save Audick his fifty billion dollars.” He had a flash of insight. These men did not have a real hope of recruiting him. This was simply an intimidation. That he would possibly remain neutral. Then he got their sense of fear. They feared him. That he had the power and, more important, he had the will. And the only one who could have warned them about him was the Oracle.

  They were all silent. Then the Oracle said, “You can go, I know you have to get back. Call me and let me know what’s happening. Keep me abreast.”

  Hurt by the Oracle’s betrayal, Christian said, “You could have warned me.”

  The Oracle shook his head. “You wouldn’t have come. And I couldn’t convince my friends that you wouldn’t sign. I had to give them their shot.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll see you out,” he said to Christian. And he rolled his wheelchair out of the room. Christian followed him.

  Before Christian left the room, he turned to the Socrates Club and said, “Gentlemen, I beg of you, don’t let the Congress do this.” He gave off such a grave menace that nobody spoke.

  When the Oracle and Klee were alone on the top of the ramp leading to the entrance foyer, the Oracle braced his wheelchair. He lifted his head, so freckled with the brown of aging skin, and said to Christian, “You are my godson, and you are my heir. All this doesn’t change my affection for you. But be warned. I love my country and I perceive your Francis Kennedy as a great danger.”

  For the first time Christian Klee felt a bitterness against this old man he had always loved. “You and your Socrates Club have Francis by the balls,” he said. “You people are the danger.”

  The Oracle was studying him. “But you don’t seem too worried. Christian, I beg of you, don’t be rash. Don’t do something irrevocable. I know you have a great deal of power and, more important, a great deal of cunning. You are gifted, I know. But don’t try to overpower history.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Christian said. He was in a hurry now. He had his last stop to make before going back to the White House.

  The Oracle sighed. “Remember, no matter what happens you still have my affection. You are the only living person I love. And if it is within my power I will never let anything happen to you. Call me, keep me abreast.”

  Even in his anger Christian felt again his old affection for the Oracle. He squeezed his shoulder and said, “What the hell, it’s only a political difference, we’ve had them before. Don’t worry—I’ll call you.”

  The Oracle gave him a crooked smile. “And don’t forget my birthday party. When this is all over. If we are both alive.”

  And Christian to his astonishment saw tears dropping onto the withered aged cheeks. He leaned over to kiss that face, parched, cool as glass.

  Christian Klee was late getting back to the White House. His last stop had been to secretly interrogate Gresse and Tibbot.

  He went directly to Oddblood Gray’s office, but the secretary told him that Gray was having a conference with Congressman Jintz and Senator Lambertino. The secretary looked frightened. She had heard rumors that Congress was trying to remove President Kennedy from office.

  Christian said, “Buzz him, tell him it’s important and let me use your desk and phone. You go to the ladies’ room.”

  Gray answered the phone thinking he was talking to his secretary. “It’d better be important,” he said.

  Christian said, “Otto, it’s Chris. Listen, I’ve just been asked by some guys in the Socrates Club to sign the removal memo. Dazzy was asked to sign, they tried to blackmail him over that affair with the dancer. I know Wix is on his way to Sherhaben, so he’s not signing the petition. Are you signing?”

  Oddblood Gray’s voice was very silky. “It’s funny, I’ve just been asked to sign by two gentlemen in my office. I already told them I would not. And I told them nobody else on the personal staff would sign. I didn’t have to ask you.” There was sarcasm in his voice.

  Christian said impatiently, “I knew you wouldn’t sign, Otto. But I had to ask. But look, put out some lightning bolts. Tell those guys that as the Attorney General I’m launching an investigation into the blackmail threat on Dazzy. Also, that I have a lot of stuff on some of those congressmen and senators that won’t look too good in the papers and I’ll leak it. Especially their business links with members of the Socrates Club. This is no time for your Oxonian bullshit.”

  Gray said smoothly, “Thanks for the advice, old buddy. But why don’t you take care of your stuff and I’ll take care of mine. And don’t ask other people to wave your sword around, wave it yourself.”

  There had always been a subtle antagonism between Oddblood Gray and Christian Klee. Personally they liked and respected each other. Both were physically impressive. Gray had a social bravery, and he had achieved everything on his own. Christian Klee had been born to wealth but had refused to live the life of a rich man. They were both respected by the world. They were both devoted to Francis Kennedy. They were both skilled lawyers.

  And yet they were both wary of each other. Gray had the utmost faith in the progress of society through law, which was why he was so valuable as the President’s liaison man with Congress. And he had always distrusted the consolidation of power that Klee had put together. It was too much that in a country like the United States any man should be director of the FBI, chief of the Secret Service and also Attorney General. True, Francis Kennedy had explained the reason for this concentration of power—that it was to help protect the President himself against the threat of assassination. But Gray still didn’t like it.

  Klee had always been a little impatient with Gray’s scrupulous attention to every legality. Gray could afford to be the punctilious statesman; he dealt with politicians and political problems. But Christian Klee felt he had to shovel away the murderous shit of everyday life. The election of Francis Kennedy had brought out all the vermin from the woodwork of America. Only Klee knew about the thousands of murder threats the President had received. Only Klee could stamp out the vermin. And he couldn’t always observe the finer points of the law to do his job. Or so Klee believed.

  Now was a case in point. Klee wanted to use power, Gray the velvet glove.

  “OK,” said Christian. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

  “Fine,” Gray said. “Now me and you can go together to see the President. He wants us in the Cabinet Room as soon as I’m through here.”

  Gray had been deliberately indiscreet while on the phone with Klee. Now he faced Congressman Jintz and Senator Lambertino and gave them a rueful smile. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said to them. “Christian doesn’t like this impeachment business, but he makes it a personal thing when it’s a matter of the country’s welfare.”

  Senator Lambertino said, “I advised against approaching Klee. But I thought we had a chance with
you, Otto. When the President appointed you as liaison with Congress, I thought it a foolhardy thing to do, what with all our Southern colleagues who are not fully reconstructed. But I must say you have won them over in these past three years. If the President listened to you, so many of his programs would not have gone down in Congress.”

  Gray kept his face impassive. He said in his silky voice, “I’m glad you came to me. But I think Congress is making a big mistake with this impeachment proceeding. The Vice President hasn’t signed up. Sure, you’ve got nearly all of the Cabinet, but none of the staff. So Congress will have to vote to make itself the impeachment body. That is one hell of a big step. That will mean that the Congress can override the express vote of the people of this country.”

  Gray got up and started pacing the room. Usually he never did this when he was negotiating because he knew the impression he made. He was too overpowering physically, and it would seem like an offensive gesture of domination. He was nearly six feet four, and his physique was that of an Olympic athlete. His clothes were beautifully tailored and he had just a touch of an English accent. He looked exactly like those powerful executives shown in TV ads except that his skin was the color of coffee rather than white. But this once he wanted to use a whiff of intimidation.

  “You are both men I have admired in Congress,” he said. “We have always understood each other. You know I advised Kennedy not to go forward with his social programs until he had laid a better groundwork. All three of us understand one important thing. There is no greater opening for tragedy than a stupid exercise of power. It is one of the most common mistakes in politics. But that is exactly what Congress is going to do when they impeach the President. If you succeed, you start a very dangerous precedent in our government that can lead to fatal repercussions when some President acquires excess power in the future. He may then make his first aim the emasculation of Congress. And what you gain here is short-term. You prevent the destruction of Dak and its fifty-billion-dollar investment by Bert Audick. And the people of this country will despise you, for make no mistake, the people support Kennedy’s action. Maybe for the wrong reasons—we all know that the electorate is too easily swayed by obvious emotions, emotions we as governors have to control and redirect. Kennedy right now can order atom bombs dropped on Sherhaben and the people of this country would approve. Stupid, OK? But that’s how the masses feel. You know that. So the smart thing is for the Congress to lie back, to see if Kennedy’s actions get the hostages back and the hijackers in our prisons. Then everybody’s happy. If the policy fails, if the hijackers slaughter the hostages, then you can remove the President and look like heroes.”