Oath of Office

by Michael Palmer

  Kim clutched the envelope. “Thank you.”

  Her thoughts swirled through the implications of Double M’s death—either murder or suicide, it seemed.

  Shank bowed his head slightly. “I must be going now. Please do not try to contact me. Those are Edwin’s wishes. If I learn anything you need to know, I will get back to you.” He turned and shambled from the restaurant.

  Kim, never losing contact with the envelope, drank half her Amstel in two gulps and again scanned the patrons for anyone paying too much attention to her. The game had changed to serious hardball. Fifteen minutes later, she was considering another beer when her cell phone rang.

  “I’m parked right outside,” Darlene said.

  CHAPTER 48

  Kim paid her tab, left a twenty under the coaster, and hurried to Darlene’s limo. She was surprised when another agent, not Victor, opened the door for her. Darlene instructed the man and the agent with him to get onto the Capital Beltway and drive until she asked them to return to the White House. As they pulled away, she requested that the privacy window behind the front seat be closed. Then she settled back next to her friend.

  “Where’s Victor?” Kim asked as soon as they were moving.

  “I told him to take a few days off for his own good. Martin wants to fire him for taking us to Philadelphia.” Her hands were tightly clenched.

  “Talk to me,” Kim said, gently loosening Darlene’s fists.

  Darlene described her fight with Martin, the threats he made against Victor, and what he revealed about trading GMO corn seed and technology to the Chinese for American jobs.

  Kim listened in stunned silence, the envelope from Double M resting on her lap. “Have you told Lou about all this?” she asked.

  “No. I gave Martin my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I’m really PO’ed at him. The choice was between sharing with you what happened and broadcasting his pigheadedness on CNN. I guess I really shouldn’t have put you in the line of Martin’s fire by telling you.”

  “Nonsense. I can handle it. I’m just sorry I can’t do anything about his deplorable behavior. So, what now?”

  Darlene sighed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I need Martin to meet with Lou. That’s the only way he can possibly be convinced the corn isn’t safe. But that just isn’t going to happen. Lou has joined the ranks of Russ Evans—people I am forbidden to mention in Martin’s presence. I swear, Kim, I have never seen such change in a man.”

  “You don’t have to explain, babe. I remember how he was the night we won. Floating right up there overhead with the red, white, and blue balloons. Alas, becoming the most powerful person on earth can cause some pretty heavy changes—like the bite of that radioactive spider did to Peter Parker. Darlene, you don’t have to answer this, but is there something going on between you and Lou?”

  “Why would you even wonder about such a thing?” she replied, not trying too hard to suppress the glint in her eyes.

  “I knew it. I swear, Dar, you have all the guile of a newborn.”

  “I don’t even know what’s happening. Lou is the only man I’ve had these sort of feelings for since I met Martin.”

  Kim squeezed her hand. “Have you kissed him?”

  “No. No,” Darlene replied emphatically. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it, especially after that circus today with Martin.”

  “Careful about doing anything when you’re angry. It’s someone’s rule.”

  “I understand.”

  “Whatever you do, I’m behind you all the way.”

  The women hugged.

  “So, tell me,” Darlene asked, “what’s going on with Double M?”

  Kim handed over the envelope, having nearly forgotten it was there. “It’s bad,” she said. “Real bad.” She recounted the upsetting exchange with the man calling himself Norman Shank. “You should open it,” Kim said softly. “Read it to yourself, or if you want, feel free to read it out loud.”

  The pages, several of them, were neatly single-spaced with a double space between paragraphs. As Darlene scanned the first few words, she covered her mouth in horror, then read aloud.

  Dear Madam First Lady:

  If you are reading this letter, then I am dead. My name is Edwin Chester, and I am the son of William Chester, Chairman and CEO of the Chester Seed Company. This letter is a confession of sorts. It does, in my death, what I could not bring myself to do while I was alive—finally to tell the truth about my father’s lies and misdeeds.

  Darlene gasped. “Lou was right,” she whispered before continuing.

  I apologize for all the subterfuge. My reasons for not being more forthcoming were the direct result of my steadfast, unyielding love for William Chester. You can research his most remarkable life, but accounts will paint a very incomplete picture of the caring, loving man whom I have been blessed to call my father. I write this even though I believe he will be found at least partially responsible for my death.

  I was born with severe club-foot deformities and was the source of much ridicule even as a young child. My father refused to accept my condition. He took me to the best surgeons in the world and sat beside me for many hours and many procedures as they reshaped my bones. He also pushed me to rise to my potential.

  Darlene stopped reading. “I can’t believe he’s dead,” she said, shaking. “And I’m terrified that Martin is somehow involved.”

  “Please keep reading,” Kim urged.

  Darlene continued.

  My father was nurturing. He was also quite forceful in his beliefs and ways. Most important, he was a constant presence in my very chaotic and inconsistent world. When my mother and sister passed away, it was my father who stepped in, fulfilling the role of parent to such a degree as to earn my unyielding devotion.

  He was the first to see my potential as a scientist, and encouraged me to study plant genetics, and to continue through to my Ph.D. William Chester is a true visionary. He foresaw the looming food crisis long before it was even a whisper in the halls of the Department of Agriculture. He saw that the corn yield was the lock keeping us from achieving global food security, and he knew that rDNA would be the key.

  “What’s rDNA?” Kim asked.

  “It says right here,” Darlene said.

  Recombinant DNA opens the door for the creating of limitless new species, each designed for a specific function, and all created from transplanting the genes from one organism into the genetic makeup of another. Corn is the single most important crop in the global food economy. It is fed to cattle, which in turn provides us with beef. Corn is a key ingredient in almost all processed foods, and a mainstay in most diets. Without a sufficient supply of corn, it can be argued, a country would fail to provide their citizens with the resources necessary for them to live without hunger or fear of starvation. In the global agricultural economy, corn is the king, queen, and most of the court.

  To meet the growing demand, our competitors have tried various hybridization techniques, averaging a yield increase of roughly 2 percent per year. But genetic engineering has changed the game dramatically. Yields have been increasing, up to an average of 150 bushels per acre.

  However, that is not nearly enough. As a result of the looming corn shortage, in the coming years, Americans will need to decrease their consumption of meat to under 12 pounds per year from an average of 250 pounds per person. Population growth; more industrialized countries; more meat-eating populations; higher demand for convenient processed foods; ethanol-based fuel; these are all factors contributing to a dramatic increase in corn demand. Meanwhile the supply side is under increasing pressure.

  Single-handedly, I have developed a solution to this pending crisis. Three hundred bushels per acre of corn is now possible with the technology I have created. However, this technology requires significant genetic manipulation, firstly with a radiation-induced mutation of the African termite species Macrotermes bellicosus, and secondly, using rDNA techniques to embed the mutated termite DNA into co
mmon corn. I stumbled onto this discovery when I became curious to see how one of the insect world’s most fecund creatures could be used to engineer corn genetically to have more kernels per ear and more ears per acre. This represents a dramatic shift from the current yield projection reported by our competitors, which requires engineering corn with built-in pest and pesticide resistance.

  The technology I have created, in my opinion, calls for years of testing before it can be safely sanctioned for human consumption. Secretary of Agriculture Russell Evans shared my concerns about this new product. He believed that transgenic corn, that is to say corn created using the DNA of a non-corn species, technically is not corn. In a report filed by the DOA, and now apparently lost, Secretary Evans insisted on the formation of a study commission that would have kept our new corn product out of the food supply for a minimum of five years.

  I am afraid that delay translated into too much lost profit and lost acclaim for my father to bear. For this reason, he had Secretary Evans removed from office. As you know, I tried to warn the president about my father’s wrongdoings without having to betray the man I love. Secretary Evans was right—the corn needs to be tested further, even though my father insists that intensive human use of our corn, and products derived from our corn, has already disclosed no adverse health effects. But my father is wrong, and Dr. Lou Welcome is right. This corn is not safe.

  There is a train being loaded with our GMO corn for shipment by air and sea to cargo planes and tankers bound for China. I believe there are other trains being readied as well. I am sorry now that I did not do more to stop these shipments.

  Please understand, that I did what I thought was best. But now it is up to you and President Mallory to do what is right. I am sorry I will not be there to help you.

  Sincerely, Edwin Chester.

  “My God,” Darlene whispered, dabbing at her tears. “The poor man.” She then extracted another piece of paper from inside the envelope.

  “What’s that?” Kim asked.

  “It’s the copy of the train manifest,” Darlene said. “The train carrying the corn shipment.” She folded the letter and manifest, then slipped them back inside the envelope.

  “What now?” Kim asked.

  “Now I call Victor.”

  “Victor? Why not Martin?”

  “If I’m going to speak to Martin again, I want Lou beside me, and Victor is going to help me with that. I told you that during our fight, I knew Martin was lying to me about something. Now, thanks to this letter, I know exactly what lie he was telling.”

  CHAPTER 49

  “You’re not making any sense,” Renee said, handing Lou a cup of the Darjeeling tea that was his favorite. “You’ve got to slow down and catch your breath. Can you get into the shower?”

  She had cleaned off some of the filth and the worst of his scrapes and cuts, but a glance at himself in the mirror was still frightening. The gunshot wound to his leg burned, but he could tell no serious damage had been done. He took a long sip of tea. Gradually, his hands stopped shaking.

  He was in the living room of Renee and Steve’s comfortable four-bedroom colonial in Arlington. Emily was in her upstairs room, ushered there by Renee, but only after Lou assured the girl he was okay and got her filthy with a prolonged bear hug. Lou suspected she was near the stairway, eavesdropping on their conversation, but neither parent had the time nor inclination to prevent it.

  Renee … Emily … Steve … all of them had to leave town—and tonight.

  “William Chester is a powerful, resourceful, vindictive man,” Lou said. “Now his son is dead and his whole operation is about to be exposed. He’s going to do anything he can to get back at me. Anything. Until we get the police involved and he gets put away, we’re all in danger. Believe it or not, today is the second time his people have tried to kill me. I need you to get away and find someplace safe until I can straighten all this out.”

  Renee took a seat next to him on the sofa that was the only piece of furniture he recognized from their years together.

  “This isn’t the first time they’ve tried to kill you?” she asked. “Why haven’t you told me?”

  Lou filled her in on the events following John Meacham’s murderous spree.

  Her eyes widened at his description of the bellicosus termites. “You actually saw a man get eaten alive?”

  “Two of them, as a matter of fact. After that, two more guys tried to kill me. If you want proof, the Mercedes I was driving is parked outside absolutely riddled, with the front and rear windshields both blown out.”

  Lou lifted the bath towel Renee had laid across his lap, exposing the gash on his thigh from Stone’s bullet. She rose from the sofa, went to the bottom of the stairs, and called up to Emily.

  “What is it?” Emily yelled back without materializing.

  “Pack a suitcase, sweetie. We’re going to spend a few days with Nana.”

  “What?” The teen bounded down the stairs as if teleported. “What are you talking about going to Nana’s? For how long? I have plans this weekend.”

  “Cancel them and pack,” Renee said more sternly. “No arguments.”

  Emily’s expression immediately became one of deep concern. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” she asked.

  Lou hugged her again. “Thanks for not putting up a fuss, kiddo. We’re going to be fine. I just need time to straighten some things out.”

  After exchanging anxious looks with each parent, Emily whirled and raced back up the stairs.

  As soon as they heard her bedroom door slam, Renee asked softly, “Why do you think we’re in danger?”

  “Gilbert Stone,” Lou said, clenching his battered hands. “He did a lot of research on me. My arrest, our divorce, my reinstatement by the medical board. I have no reason to believe all that information hasn’t found its way to Chester.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Renee said. “This is the information age, and Stone is—was—the police, and Chester has boatloads of money. If they want us, they’ll find us eventually.”

  “Eventually isn’t now. You can’t go to Nana’s, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “For all the reasons you just said. If they can get to you, they can get to your mother. What about Steve?”

  “What about him?”

  “Does his company have a retreat—someplace you’ve never been?”

  Renee thought a moment. “No, but a partner at his law firm has a place in the Adirondacks that he keeps offering to Steve. A fishing cabin, I think.”

  “Perfect. Call Steve, now. Tell him you all need to go there right away. Make him believe you.”

  Lou watched the color drain from Renee’s face. “I’m sorry, Lou. I really am.”

  No casting blame. No poor us.

  This was a hell of a woman.

  Those thoughts segued into images of Darlene.

  Was it possible? he found himself wondering. Was there any way it could happen between them? Given their situation, given his predicament at the moment, all he could do was smile inwardly. The answers to any questions about him and Darlene Mallory were more than clear: not in this lifetime.

  First things first, Cap would remind him. First things first. And the first thing here was to survive William Chester and find a way to bring him down.

  “Lou, don’t let anything happen to Em,” Renee said, sobbing now.

  He held her tightly while he tried to quell his own fears. Then he rocked her in his arms, stroking her hair in the way that was still familiar after so many years.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to her,” he said once, then again. “Nothing’s going to happen to her, or you … or Steve.” Lou closed his eyes and whispered the word hush, over and over again until her sobbing subsided.

  When Renee pulled away, the anxiety in her eyes had been replaced by resolve. “Go shower off,” she said. “I’ll call Steve and then I’ll get you some clothes.”

  She took a few steps toward the kitchen phone, then stopped.


  “Lou, how are these people in Kings Ridge being infected by the corn? If it’s not an airborne contagion, like you originally thought, then how?”

  Lou bit at his lip. “I can’t figure it out,” he said. “I’ve about torn my brain in half, and I just can’t figure it out.”

  Renee returned to the living room after calling her husband. “He’s on his way,” she said. “He didn’t doubt the urgency for a second. He trusts you, Lou. That says a lot.”

  “I’ll help you pack, as soon as I wash off,” he said.

  Renee paused. “Who are the people you know of who have been affected?” she asked.

  Lou listed off the names.

  “Now, what do they have in common?”

  “Nothing except the obvious, as far as I can tell,” he said.

  “No … if the symptoms aren’t the result of something airborne, then there’s got be a physical factor linking them,” she said. “You’re just too close to it, that’s all.”

  “Maybe. Maybe so. Listen, Renee, you need to pack. Chester has enough money to get at you unless we make it nearly impossible.”

  “Okay, okay. Just think about it, though.” Her voice trailed off.

  Lou followed her upstairs and showered in the guest bathroom. Renee was right. There had to be a connection.

  Lou couldn’t dwell long on the possibilities. Steve worked in D.C. and would be home soon. Renee had her suitcase at the top of the stairs. The sooner they were on their way, the better, and even then he wouldn’t feel safe until he heard they had arrived at the cabin without incident.

  He went to Emily’s room and helped her gather her things.

  “What’s really going on, Dad?” she asked, her eyes moist.

  Lou patted the edge of her twin bed, and she sat down beside him. The nearness of her comforted him and calmed him more than any medication ever could have. “Like I said, there is a very bad man who wants to hurt me and anyone close to me. He’s angry because I can prove the corn he’s selling is responsible for that doctor who shot all those people.”