Capital Offense

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Capital Offense Page 26

by Kathleen Antrim


  The office door opened and Edmund Lane strolled into Richard’s view. “Good evening, Richard. I’ll try to keep this brief”

  Surprised, Richard leaned forward. “What do you mean, you’ll try to keep this brief? My appointment is with Warner. What in the hell are you doing here?”

  Edmund sat down behind the president’s desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a pen and pad of paper. “Warner’s running late. He asked me to get your recommendations for the Supreme Court.”

  Face flushed, Richard stood. “I’ll come back when Warner can attend to his own appointments.”

  Edmund set the pen down with an amused expression playing across his features. “Richard, sit down.”

  The vice president’s eyes narrowed as his jaw clenched.

  “I mean it, son. You’re about to trip on a rattlesnake, and you’re smart enough to know it. If you want any input into this administration. I recommend you show me some respect. Otherwise, you can walk out that door and kiss your political future goodbye.” Edmund spread his hands wide. “Your choice. I really couldn’t give a shit.”

  Richard hesitated. He wanted to scream. “FUCK YOU and your asshole son,” while he pummeled Edmund Lane’s smug face. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath, clamped down on his rage, and returned to his chair.

  “Now, about the Supreme Court,” Edmund continued.

  “Brandon Ross,” Richard said.

  Warner chose that moment to walk into the office. “Good choice, Richard. I see you’ve done your homework.”

  “He’s the most qualified.” Richard said. standing to shake the president’s hand due to protocol rather than courtesy. “And the most moderate of any candidate for the post.”

  “I agree that he’s qualified” Warner said. He looked at Edmund, then glanced back to Richard. “We’re done here. I need a few moments with Edmund, and I’m late for another appointment.”

  Richard shook his head as he walked to the door. “I don’t know why I bother.”

  “If you don’t like it,” Warner shot back, “I’ll accept your resignation at any time.”

  SIXTY-SIX

  Carolyn strolled through the White House residence toward her bedroom. Down the hall, she thought she heard a giggle. She turned and followed the sound.

  Secret Service Agent Martin Riggs stood in front of Warner’s bedroom door.

  “I thought I heard a woman laughing,” Carolyn said to the agent.

  The agent shifted on his feet, his expression pained.

  Carolyn held up her hand. “Thank you for not lying to me.” She took a step toward Warner’s bedroom.

  Riggs blocked her path. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But the president has requested his privacy.”

  She met the agent’s gaze. “I don’t care what he’s requested, I’m still his wife.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t, ma’am” Riggs searched her eyes. “For your own good.”

  Carolyn moved past the agent and flung open the door. Shock held her. She blinked, not wanting to believe the tableau before her.

  Warner sat naked on the bed. A stunning blond paused in the midst of her striptease at the interruption, while a nude redhead continued to massage Warner’s shoulders.

  “What the fuck-” Warner said, turning to the door.

  Carolyn thought she was ready for anything, but her vision swirled in a wave of dizziness at the sight of Warner’s debauchery. “What’s become of you. Warner?”

  He laughed. “I’d have invited you. Carolyn, but this just didn’t seem like your style.”

  Agent Riggs caught Carolyn by the elbow as her knees buckled. He guided her out of the room, holding her steady until she whispered, “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am”

  She squared her shoulders a moment later and walked away with all the dignity she possessed. And as she walked, she vowed to repay Warner for the humiliation he obviously enjoyed dispensing.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  April 9, 2001 – Washington, DC

  Jack spent most of the weekend in bed, sleeping and healing. On Monday, Katherine reluctantly left him to so to work. Jack dragged himself out to Erma’s car and unloaded the box of files she had given him from her husband’s office.

  Sitting at the kitchen table in Katherine’s town home, Jack reviewed file upon file. He grew increasingly frustrated when nothing regarding the Council was mentioned. He was about to quit when he noticed a small book hidden beneath the folds of the bottom of the cardboard box. At first glance, it appeared to be some sort of journal.

  Jack skimmed the meticulously written pages. Apparently, Adam Miles had begun this journal six months before his death. He had logged daily events. Jack smiled when he read funny anecdotes about Erma. Jack doubted whether Erma had read any of this. He knew she hadn’t been able to bring herself to dispose of Adam’s clothing, and he doubted that she’d delved into his records.

  Adam revealed a great deal about his businesses, thoughts, plans, and concerns in his notes. As Jack read, a story began to untold of two friends. Adam and Edmund Lane. The two men had been very close, but their differences eventually ruined their friendship. Jack read on.

  Edmund is furious at Mort for having taken on Carolyn as a business partner. He feels it’s dangerous. Dangerous for whom? Jack wondered.

  Winston Cain is becoming a regular fixture, and Carolyn is using him now. Jack’s heartbeat quickened. The “C” signature on the E-mail to Cain must have been Carolyn.

  Jack set aside the book and went to Katherine’s computer. He logged on and pulled up the outgoing mail file from the E-mail for Cleopatral600.com. Jack inhaled sharply.

  Cain:

  Rudly’s in Missouri. Eliminate the problem.

  C

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  Carolyn sat on a couch in the Oval Office across from Warner. She forced the image of the most recent humiliation she had suffered at his hands from her mind, determined to concentrate on her goals. Katherine sat next to her, providing support without being aware of the depth of Carolyn’s pain.

  “These ideas may seem extreme, Warner, but we’re losing our war on drugs. Stricter laws and enforcement help, but I believe we need more than that. We need to cut the drug lords off economically, just as we would any country with whom we were at war,” Carolyn said. “I believe we have devised a way to limit the economy of the drug trade.”

  Warner leaned forward. “So what you’re proposing is to eliminate, or at least limit, the market available to the drug trade by drug testing.”

  “I know we get into some constitutional issues with this approach, but we are far beyond a crisis in this country. We need to address the greater cause – if we truly want to stop drugs in America.” Carolyn took a sip of water. “This program would also deal with problems in the welfare system and even foster care.”

  “It’s really no different than employee drug testing,” Katherine said.

  Warner’s gaze never left Carolyn’s face. “This is brilliant. It’s simple, yet brilliant. Unfortunately, we’ll have to shelve it for now.”

  “What?” Carolyn gasped, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her, “You can’t do this.”

  Warner stood and turned to Katherine. “I’m very impressed with your work. Hopefully, we’ll be able to come back to these issues someday.” He shook her hand.

  Struggling for control, Carolyn stood as well. “Please excuse us, Katherine.”

  Katherine shut the door behind her.

  “Someday? Someday. Warner?” Carolyn shouted. “There’s a press conference scheduled for this afternoon.”

  “So, give the press conference. Then we’ll let the program die a silent death.” Warner walked to the door, a condescending smile on his face. “The polls just don’t support it.”

  “That’s a lie, and you know it.” The bastard was enjoying this, she thought. “I won’t let you get away with this. Warner. I swear it.”

  “You don’t have the balls to fight this war.
And, Carolyn, like you said, it is war.”

  SIXTY-NINE

  Jack paced from one end of Katherine’s town home to the other. He couldn’t prove that Carolyn had issued the orders to have him beaten, or that she’d had anyone else killed, but the evidence against her continued to mount.

  How was he going to tell Katherine? He believed she was in danger, and needed to quit her job. She was going to be furious when he told her that he suspected Carolyn was behind these reprehensible deeds. She probably wouldn’t believe him, Jack realized, but he knew he had to try.

  One thing was sure, he had to distance himself from Katherine. Jack headed for the bedroom to pack his few possessions. Every minute he stayed with her jeopardized her safety. Carolyn, or whomever, wanted him dead. He feared that if Carolyn and her cronies connected him to Katherine, she might become another in a long list of casualties.

  SEVENTY

  Carolyn’s hand shook as she reached for the phone on her desk.

  She held her breath until she heard the sound of her lover’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “He shut down my program.” A sob broke her voice. “I swear he planned it all along. I felt like a trapped fly watching my own wings being pulled off. And he enjoyed it, he actually enjoyed it.”

  “I was afraid this would happen.” he said.

  She rubbed her forehead with the fingertips of her free hand. “My God, it’s everything I’ve worked for, my life’s commitment. The entire reason I’ve stayed married to the son of a bitch. Now, I have nothing left. Nothing.”

  “Will you finally agree to let me help you?” he asked.

  “How?”

  “You let me worry about that. Do you still have access to treasury funds?”

  “We’ll be doing our final invoices for the task force in the upcoming weeks.” Carolyn said.

  “Perfect.”

  SEVENTY-ONE

  April 9, 2001 – Washington, DC.

  “What’s going on, Jack?” Katherine asked as she walked through the front door and encountered his luggage on the entry floor.

  Jack came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishtowel.

  “Taking a trip?” Katherine put down her briefcase, not meeting his gaze. He could tell she was trying desperately to hide her hurt.

  He shook his head. “We’re taking too big a risk. If they find out we’re involved…”

  Her eyes wide, she said, “What are you talking about? If who finds out?”

  “I’m not sure. But I think your boss has something to do with it.”

  “Carolyn?” Her voice rose in volume. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Please, sit down,” Jack said, “and we’ll discuss this.”

  “I’m fine where I am. I’m not sure what you think Carolyn has done, but I can assure you she would never do anything to hurt anyone.” She stood, fists propped on her hips, her chin set at a defiant tilt.

  “Kate. I know she’s your friend, and that may be the very reason you aren’t seeing the truth.”

  “Can you prove these accusations?” Anger resonated in her voice.

  “Not yet. But I have substantial evidence.” He walked to the desk, and showed her the E-mail to Cain signed with a C. “And. I have Adam Miles’s journal that links Carolyn to Cain.” He didn’t bother telling her about the recording that he’d gotten at the bridge. Without the tape, he’d never prove it was Carolyn’s voice.

  “I don’t believe any of this.” Katherine said. “There has to be a logical explanation.”

  “Maybe there is. But until this is resolved, we should live apart.”

  “You’re not responsible for me. I can make my own decisions.”

  He sighed, then approached her. “I’m afraid I’m putting you in danger,” he said softly. “In fact, I know I’m putting you in danger. Regardless of who put out a hit on me, I can’t, in good conscience, expose you to this kind of danger.” He pulled her to him, but she stood stiff in his arms. Putting his hand under her chin, he lifted her face so he could look into her green eyes. “Okay. I should have talked to you before I packed. I apologize.”

  She met his gaze. “I’m afraid, Jack.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid that you’re irrationally obsessed with this whole thing. First, a complete stranger meets you at the Golden Gate, and you take his word as gospel. Then, you’re convinced it’s Mark Dailey.”

  “I know it all sounds odd.”

  “Odd? It’s more than odd. And now you’re pulling up E-mail messages from an address that could belong to anyone, and you’re telling me it’s the First Lady communicating with a mercenary.”

  “Katherine, do you know how many investigations I’ve done in my years as a reporter?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Thousands. And most of them started out with much less to go on than this.”

  “I’m not doubting your professionalism. I just think you’re too personally involved because of your father.”

  “Oh. I’m personally involved, all right,” Jack said. “And I’ve got bruises all over my body to prove it.”

  “You’re on the wrong track. Carolyn is a great person. I won’t stand by and watch you attack my friend. This is wrong, Jack, very wrong.”

  “Is this a deal breaker for our relationship?”

  She stepped back. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  Jack started to speak, then stopped. His gaze locked with hers, he clenched his jaw as he fought his emotions.

  “The break will do us good,” she said. “We’ve been moving fast, probably too fast. We both need time to think.”

  “You think that’s what this is about? That I need time to think?” Jack asked.

  “It makes more sense than the alternative,” Katherine said.

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t deserve this. I’ve never been anything but straight with you. And I’m getting sick of being accused of underhanded behavior. I don’t care if you think I’m off base on my investigation, but I do care that you doubt my integrity. I don’t use words like love, lightly. And I do love you. Try not to forget that, Katherine, while you’re thinking.”

  He picked up his bag and walked out the door.

  SEVENTY-TWO

  Carolyn walked toward the Oval Office. Her footfalls echoed in the evening quiet. She’d given a lot of thought to Warner’s rejection of her War on Drugs proposal, and decided that she just needed to reason with him. Her program could build his legacy, a legacy she knew he cared about preserving. She intended to point out that killing her task force, to satisfy a personal vendetta, would only hurt his presidency.

  She stopped in front of the Oval Office door, took a calming breath, then knocked.

  “Come in,” Warner said.

  Carolyn swung the door open, then gasped.

  Edmund Lane pulled his cigar from his lips.

  “Good to see you, Carolyn.”

  Warner leaned back in his chair, set his feet on his desk, and crossed his ankles. “How can we help you?”

  Cigar smoke hung thick and dense in the air. “Can I speak to you alone?”

  “No.”

  Carolyn met his gaze. “I wanted to discuss my press conference and your presidential legacy.”

  Warner reached in his pocket and handed Edmund a dollar bill.

  Edmund laughed as he took it. “You should never underestimate my knack for predicting human nature. She’s right on schedule.”

  Carolyn felt the blood rushing to her face.

  “You win, again.” Warner shrugged.

  Edmund sat back and sucked on his cigar.

  Carolyn stood silent. Humiliation tightened around her throat.

  “Do you think she gives a shit about my legacy?” Warner asked.

  Edmund smiled back. “Only if it saves her precious program.”

  Warner swung his feet off his desk and stood. “Although I admit your press conference went remarkably well, I really see no point in having this discussion with you. My decision is made.
Please excuse us, Carolyn.” He walked to the door and held it open for her.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she whispered, finally regaining her voice.

  “If you don’t like it, divorce me,” he said as he shut the door behind her.

  Carolyn stared at the door unable to cry, unable to scream, unable to feel anything but the rage of a trapped animal. He knew she couldn’t divorce him without sacrificing everything she’d ever worked for and cared about. If this was war, she’d lost another battle. But I’m still standing, she thought, and as long as I’m standing I will fight.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  April 13, 2001 – Washington, DC.

  Jack sipped his beer. He hated spending Saturday nights alone, believing they were proof of his relationship failures.

  Sitting in a bar wasn’t his style, but he refused to wallow in self-pity. So, he’d forced himself to go out, only to discover that surrounding one’s self with strangers only magnified the loneliness. Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized his mistake until after he’d ordered his meal. He resigned himself to eating quickly, then leaving.

  What had happened to him? he wondered. He’d always been a loner, and he’d even enjoyed himself. Or had he? Regardless, he realized that that was before Katherine’s return to his life and before he admitted to himself that he loved her.

  He stared at the photograph on the front page of the Washington Post. Katherine stood off to Carolyn’s right at a press conference that had taken place the day before at the White House. Even in newsprint, Katherine was stunning.

 

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