First Family

by David Baldacci

  Dan Cox sprang down the chopper steps looking full of energy, ready to start the day instead of ending it. The man was like that on the political trail. He consistently left much younger aides gasping for air and sucking down troughs of coffee as they state-hopped across the country. The thrill of the competition seemed to fill him with enough adrenaline that he could soldier on endlessly. And there was a high associated with being the president of the United States that couldn’t be duplicated by any other occupation. It was like being a rock legend, A-list movie star, sports icon, and the closest thing to a god on earth all rolled into one.

  Tonight, as always, the president moved along in a bubble that the Secret Service referred to as “the package,” consisting of the president, high-level staff, personal security detail, and a few fortunate members of the media pool. As he approached the mansion, staff and reporters were nimbly herded off with only one senior staff member and the security detail remaining with the man.

  All doors opened for the leader of the free world and he strode into the White House like he owned it. Which unofficially he did. Though financed by the American taxpayers, it was really his house, his chopper, his jumbo jet. No one got to come for a visit or go for a ride if he didn’t say it was okay.

  The senior staff member returned to her office and the president continued on to the First Family’s living quarters, leaving the Secret Service detail behind. He was in the true bubble here; as safe at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue at it was possible to be. If the Secret Service had its way, he would never leave the building, until either he was termed out or the voters gave the job to somebody else. But he was the president, the man of the people. Thus he had to actually mingle with the citizens while ulcers grew silently in the bellies of his guards.

  Dan Cox threw off his jacket, pressed a button on a small box resting on a table and a White House steward appeared. Cox gave his order and a minute later he was handed a gin and tonic on the rocks with two slices of lime. That was a nice perk of the job. The president could get pretty much anything he wanted, at any time. After the steward departed, Cox flopped down next to his wife, who sat on the couch reading a magazine and trying her best to appear relaxed.

  “See the latest poll numbers?” he asked gleefully.

  She nodded. “But there’s still a long way to go. And the polls tend to tighten.”

  “I know it’s early yet, but let’s be honest, the other side has no traction.”

  “Don’t be overconfident,” she scolded.

  He held up his cut crystal glass. “Interested?”

  “No thanks.”

  He munched some unsalted almonds. “When have you ever known me to either be overconfident or lose an election?”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “First time for everything.”

  “They still want three debates. I’m thinking two.”

  “You should only do one.”

  “Why only one? Graham’s not that good of a debater.”

  “You’re being far too kind, Danny. Graham is not only a poor debater; he’s mediocre on all levels. It’ll only take the American people one time to realize how hopeless he is. So why waste your time? And you don’t need to give him three bites at the apple to change anyone’s mind, or be raised up to your level. And let’s face it, honey, you are human. And humans make mistakes. So why put that much pressure on yourself? He has everything to gain from that strategy and you have everything to lose. The opposition knows their best chance is four years from now when you’re termed out. They’re counting on the fact that they’ll be able to find a young buck with a brain, some real ideas, and a core constituency that they can expand on by then to really challenge for the White House. Graham is just a stopgap.”

  He smiled and held up his drink in the manner of a tribute. “I don’t know why I even have a campaign strategy team. I can just come and ask the missus.”

  “You survive enough battles, the lessons tend to sink in.”

  “You know I’ll be termed out, but you could run,” he said playfully. “Keep a Cox in the White House another eight years.”

  “The White House is a nice place, but I really don’t want to live here.”

  He seemed to remember something. He put his drink down, wrapped an arm around her, and said, “Any news on Willa?”

  “None.”

  “The whole damn FBI on the case and nothing? I’ll get on the horn to Munson first thing in the morning. That is totally unacceptable.”

  “It seems so strange that someone would kidnap Willa.”

  He held her more tightly. “Jane, smart as you are, I know you’ve already thought about this. The reason they took Willa could have to do with us. They’ll try to hurt us and perhaps this country by using that precious little girl.”

  She gripped his arm. “What if they ask for something? Something in return for letting her go?”

  Dan Cox let go of his wife, stood, and paced in front of her. He was still a very attractive man. As she watched him walk up and down, she took in the thick shoulders, the perfect hair, the solid chin, the nuggets of cheekbones, and the sparkle of eyes. Physically, he was an amalgam of JFK and Reagan with an intimidating heft of burly Theodore Roosevelt thrown in.

  She had fallen in love with him on seeing the man for the first time on a college campus on a beautiful early fall day. He’d been a junior and she an incoming freshman. It was a day that now seemed a million years ago. And in many important ways, it was. That life had been over for a long time. She could hardly call it part of her history anymore, for so much of immense importance had come in the intervening years.

  “It depends on exactly what they want, Jane. The nuclear codes? I can’t do that. One of the founding documents? I can’t do that either. In fact, in all candor, the president of the United States cannot give in to blackmail of any kind. The precedent that would set would be untenable for any future administration. It would emasculate the office.”

  “So you’re saying that we’ll never see Willa again?”

  He sat down next to her, rested a hand on her knee. “What I’m saying is that we will do everything in our power to get that little girl back safe and sound. We just have to keep thinking positive thoughts. We have the might of the United States behind us. That’s no small thing.”

  “Will you be at the funeral tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “Of course. I have an early rally in Michigan, but I’ll be back in plenty of time. Air Force waits for no one. And at moments like this family needs to stick together. And not to sound too crass about it, but it’ll let the country know that the Coxes put family first in periods of crisis. And that’s the truth.”

  She put her magazine down. “I can see you’re still in full campaign mode. It’s late but I’m not really sleepy. Would you like to watch a movie in the theater? Warner Brothers just sent one of their latest over. I don’t even think it’s in theaters yet.”

  He finished his drink, stood, and held out his hand.

  “No movie. I missed you, love of my life.”

  He gave her the same heart-stopping smile he’d flashed at the college freshman over twenty-five years ago. She rose obediently and followed him into the bedroom. He closed the door behind them. He took off his tie and shoes and unzipped his pants. She slipped off her dress and undid her bra straps. She lay back on the bed, he on top of her. What followed was a private, intimate moment, an extraordinarily rare event for the First Couple. Sometimes, Jane thought, as he heaved and thrust above her and she moaned in his ear, that making love to her husband was the only privacy they ever had anymore.

  When he was done he fell away from her, gave his wife a final kiss, and went to sleep. Air Force One was out the gate early the next morning and even the tireless Dan Cox needed a few hours of rest before hitting the road again.

  The first time they’d made love in this very bed Jane had started to giggle. The newly sworn-in president had not been amused, interpreting her glee as aimed at something lacking in his lov
emaking skills. However, when she’d told him why she was laughing, he’d joined in with her.

  What she’d told him was, “I can’t believe I’m getting screwed by the president of the United States.”

  Now Jane lay there for a half hour before rising, showering, dressing, and surprising the Secret Service agents by going back downstairs. She opened the door to her office, closed it behind her, unlocked her desk, and took out the letter and the key.

  When would she get it? What would it say? What would she do then?

  She looked at her watch. It was late, but she was the First Lady.

  She made the call, woke him up.

  Sean King said groggily, “Jane?”

  “I’m sorry for the lateness of the hour. You’re coming to the funeral of course.” It was not even close to being a question.

  “Ironically, I just attended one.”

  “What?”

  “Long story. Yeah, I’m planning on being there.”

  “Tuck told me that you’d called.”

  “Did he also tell you what we talked about?”

  “That was a mistake, Sean. I’m sorry. We should have been truthful with you from the very beginning.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  “I was concerned about the… the…”

  “Your brother screwing around on his wife?” he said helpfully.

  “That it would reflect badly on the president’s reelection campaign.”

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

  “Please don’t be cynical. I don’t need that right now.”

  “Your concern was well justified. But it took me down a detour I didn’t need to go down. A waste of time we couldn’t really afford.”

  “So you think it has nothing to do with Willa’s disappearance?”

  “Can I tell you that for sure? No. But my professional instinct is telling me that it doesn’t.”

  “So what now?”

  “Talk to me about Willa.”

  “What about her?”

  “Pam only had two children, both by C-section.”

  Ice seemed to congeal in Jane’s bloodstream. “Pam had three children as you very well know.”

  “Okay, but she didn’t give birth to all three. The postmortem confirmed that. I told Tuck about this. I thought he would have told you.”

  Tuck of course had told her, but she had no intention of revealing this to Sean. “So what exactly are you saying?”

  “That one of the kids was not Pam’s. Was it Tuck’s by another woman? And was the child Willa?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Why is this at all relevant?”

  Sean sat up in his hotel room bed. “Are you serious? It’s relevant because if Willa isn’t Pam’s daughter, then her real mom and/or dad could be behind her kidnapping.”

  “Willa is twelve years old. Why would someone wait all this time?”

  “I thought that too, but the fact is I don’t have the answer to that. And I’m convinced that I need the answer to that question if we’re going to solve this thing and find Willa. So can you help me out?”

  “I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Well, if she is Pam’s daughter, then the lady had to be pregnant with her all those years ago. Was she?”

  “I… She… Now I remember, they weren’t living in the U.S. back then. They were in Italy. Tuck’s business. And now that I think about it, they returned shortly after Willa was born.”

  Sean leaned back against the headboard. “Well, that was convenient. So you don’t know for sure if she was pregnant? Never saw any pictures? Mom and newborn in the hospital? No baby showers? Didn’t visit them over there?”

  “You’re being cynical again,” she said coldly.

  “No, I’m actually being politely probing.”

  “Okay, I admit that I can’t tell you for sure if Willa is Pam’s daughter. I always believed that she was. Let me put it this way, I had no reason not to believe that she was.”

  “Well, if you are withholding something from me I will get to the truth at some point and the results may not be to your liking.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Threatening any member of the First Family is a felony, as you well know. And I’m one of the good guys. See you at the funeral, Mrs. Cox.”

  He hung up the phone.

  Jane locked the letter and key back in her desk and nearly ran to the living quarters. As she undressed and climbed back into bed, she listened to the soft snores of her husband. He never had trouble going to sleep. Even after working the phones until the wee hours of the morning, he would finally put the receiver down after haggling over some mind-numbingly important national business, brush his teeth, and be asleep within five minutes. She, on the other hand, took hours to do so, if she ever managed at all.

  As she lay on her side and stared over at the wall she imagined she could see Willa’s face there, the child beckoning to her. Pleading.

  Help me, Aunt Jane. Save me. I need you.

  CHAPTER 44

  WHAT’S THE MATTER, Gabriel? You look like you’re not feeling too good.”

  Quarry eyed the little boy across the heft of the kitchen table.

  “Haven’t been sleeping too good the last couple of nights, Mr. Sam,” he said miserably.

  “Kids are always supposed to sleep good. You got something on your mind?”

  Gabriel couldn’t look at him when he said, “Nothing important. I’ll be okay.”

  “You got school today?” Quarry asked, as he studied the boy closely. “’Cause if you do, you’re gonna miss the bus.”

  “Nope. Teacher day. I thought I’d help Ma, do some field work, and then get some reading done.”

  “I need to talk to your ma after I go into town.”

  “What about?”

  “Personal business.”

  Gabriel’s face fell. “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

  Quarry smiled. “You think the whole world revolves around you? Naw, just business stuff. You get a chance to clean out the toolbench in the barn some, that’d be real good. Get rid of anything that’s rusted up bad. And I got another stamp for you.”

  Gabriel did his best to smile. “Thank you, Mr. Sam. Got me a good collection going. I checked on one you gave me on the computer at school. On eBay.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “You buy and sell stuff on there. Like a bunch of stores on the Internet.”

  Quarry looked mildly interested. “Go on.”

  “Anyway, this one stamp you gave me is worth forty dollars!”

  “Damn. You gonna sell it?”

  Gabriel looked shocked. “Mr. Sam, I’m not selling anything you give me.”

  “Piece of advice for free, little man. That stamp collection is gonna help fund your college education. Why you think I been giving’em to you? And the old coins too?”

  Gabriel looked puzzled. “I guess I never thought about that.”

  “See, your brain’s not as big as you think it is, now is it?”

  “Guess not.” They ate some more and the boy said, “You been flying up to the mine a lot.”

  He grinned. “Trying to find me some diamonds.”

  “Diamonds in the mine?” Gabriel said sharply. “Thought all those mines were in Africa.”

  “Might have us some right here in Alabama.”

  “I was thinking maybe I’d go with you.”

  “Son, you been all over that mine with me. It’s still just dirt in a big hole.”

  “I mean on the plane. We always went in the truck.”

  “We always went in the truck’cause you don’t like to fly. Hell, you told me every time you watch me take off you want to crawl inside the earth and never come out.”

  Gabriel smiled weakly. “I’m trying to get over that. I want to see more of this world than just Alabama, so I’ve got to get on planes, right?”

  Quarry smiled at th
e boy’s spot-on logic. “That’s pretty right, yeah.”

  “Let me know then. I’ll be getting on with the chores.”

  “You do that.”

  Gabriel put his dishes in the sink and scooted out of the kitchen.