Shelley's Heart

Home > Literature > Shelley's Heart > Page 67
Shelley's Heart Page 67

by Charles McCarry

For the first time Horace blinked. Several times. As Patrick Graham had reported on Newsdawn only that morning, Horace had been fond of Prince Talil, whom he had known since early childhood. He said, “That is correct.”

  “Did you discuss the assassination with President Lock wood after the event?”

  “No.”

  “Did you discuss it with your half brother?”

  “Yes. Last August. At length.”

  “What was his reaction?”

  “He was greatly surprised and dismayed that I had been assigned to carry out the operation.”

  “Did he express a reason for his surprise and dismay?”

  “He seemed to regard it as an attempt by the DFI to place him and also the President under some sort of constraint.”

  “What sort of constraint?”

  ‘ Tt was my impression that Julian felt that Philindros involved me in the belief that my involvement somehow made it less likely that the White House would blame the FIS if the matter became public.”

  “Did this suspicion seem reasonable to you?”

  “Frankly, no. I explained to Julian that I was the responsible officer in the field. When the order came to me, I did not stop to consider who my half brother was or whom he worked for. I simply carried it out.”

  “Even though it was a warrant for the death of a foreign chief of state?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though it did not bear the President’s own signature, even though you did not hear the order in the President’s own voice?”

  Horace looked at Olmedo with polite curiosity: what an odd question. He said, “Mr. Olmedo, the answer is yes.”

  Olmedo said, “Thank you.” He handed a small Lucite box and an inch-thick stack of computer paper to the clerk. “If the Senate pleases, this memory chip and printout of its contents is entered as evidence.”

  “What is it, Mr. Olmedo?” Hammett asked, holding out his hand to the clerk.

  “It is a recording of a certain conversation and a transcription of that conversation, Mr. Chief Justice.” As Hammett flipped through the pages of the printout, Olmedo turned back to Horace. “Now, Mr. Hubbard, I will ask you an important question,” he said. “Have you reason to believe, based on any hard evidence now in your possession or formerly in your possession, that President Lockwood actually ordered, in his own words, in his own voice, of his own volition, the assassination of Ibn Awad?”

  “On the contrary, I know that he never did so.”

  The galleries stirred. Hammett gaveled. He said, “You know?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Chief Justice. He never gave any such order. It’s quite clear from the original recording of the conversation, which I deduce has just been entered into evidence by Mr. Olmedo, that President Lockwood didn’t hear a word Jack Philindros said to him in that regard that night at Live Oaks.”

  “Then why,” Hammett asked, “did President Lockwood say yes in answer to Philindros’s question?”

  Horace shrugged, an elegant gesture that drew attention to the rather shabby condition of the fine old suit that he wore. “My impression is that he was just being polite. Didn’t hear the question, didn’t want to embarrass Jack. You can ask my brother Julian his opinion—he was actually there—but I think you’ll find that’s what happened.”

  Olmedo said, “May I interrupt, Mr. Chief Justice? Mr. Hubbard, you knew all this at the time?”

  “No. I was in the field when my people copied it off the satellite. And then I didn’t listen to the chip for a long time afterward.”

  “Why not?”

  “Among other reasons, I did not want to know what was on it.”

  “Will you tell the Senate why?”

  “Because the thing was done. It had produced consequences, including the beheading of Prince Talil, that were dispiriting.”

  “You had regrets?”

  “Of course I did. But the enemy was armed and constituted a danger to my fellow countrymen, whom I had taken a solemn oath to defend, and I was at the end of the chain of command.”

  Thoughtfully, as if struck by the logic of what he had just heard, Olmedo nodded. “You take oaths very seriously, Mr. Hubbard. Is that a fair statement?”

  “Taking them seriously is the whole point of oaths, I should have thought,” Horace said. “Yes, I take them seriously.”

  “More seriously than anything else whatsoever?”

  “No. There are limits.”

  “What limits?”

  “Only one, really, and it is universally acknowledged. Conscience.”

  “So you would not obey an oath it if meant violating your conscience?”

  “In principle I would not.”

  “ ‘In principle.’ Then there are exceptions when some higher duty intervenes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why you stole the presidential election, Mr. Hubbard?”

  Hammett said, “Hold on, Mr. Olmedo. The Senate is not considering the articles of impeachment dealing with that question at this time.”

  “It is inextricably bound up with all the other questions before the Senate in this trial, Mr. Chief Justice.”

  Horace said, “Excuse me. I don’t mind answering.”

  Hammett said, “The Chief Justice appreciates that, sir. But that is not the issue.”

  Horace looked up at Hammett and said, “If I may, Mr. Chief Justice, I would like to point out that I was no longer bound by my oath when I stole the election. I had resigned from the Foreign Intelligence Service— resigned, not retired—and was no longer bound by any obligation to the government. Nor was I in its pay in any way, shape, or form.”

  Olmedo said, “Then you admit that you stole the election?”

  “Yes,” Horace said, “but I was acting as a private citizen. I caused votes to be diverted by computer in New York, Michigan, and California from other candidates to President Lockwood.”

  “As a concerned citizen, Mr. Hubbard?”

  “Well put,” said Horace.

  “About what were you concerned?”

  “About the possibility that the investigation of the assassination of Ibn Awad promised by Mr. Mallory would result in the destruction of the American intelligence service.”

  “And in harm to President Lockwood?” Olmedo asked.

  “I didn’t care two figs about President Lockwood. In the past I had seen American intelligence dragged through the mud before to save a President’s anatomy. The reason was always the weakness of the President. This was more of the same, in spades.”

  “You wanted to perpetuate in office a President whom you regarded as weak?”‘

  “Better that than the alternative, given the circumstances and the stakes.”

  “I see,” Olmedo said. “We will leave it at that for the moment.”

  Hammett stirred restlessly on the bench but did not intervene.

  Olmedo said, “Mr. Hubbard, I must ask you this. As a concerned citizen, did you discuss the theft of the election in any way, shape, or form with President Lockwood?”

  Horace said, “No. Certainly not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I knew President Lockwood would never countenance my acting as I did or accept a counterfeit outcome if he knew about it.”

  4’So-you did what you have described doing without the knowledge of President Lockwood, without the authorization of President Lockwood, knowing that it was an act that he would never approve or authorize personally or through others?”

  “Precisely,” Horace said.

  “As a matter of conscience?”

  Hammett said, “Counselor, stop right there. You are prosecuting this witness. Mr. Hubbard, you understand the import of what you are saying under oath and its probable consequences to yourself?”

  “Yes,” Horace said. “Absolutely.”

  Olmedo said, “May I proceed along this line, Mr. Chief Justice?”

  “You may not,” Hammett said. From his place on the left side of the chamber Busby caught Hammett’
s eye. He avoided it sternly. All his instincts told him that Horace’s testimony had lasted long enough.

  To Olmedo he said, “Stick to that which is relevant to the article of impeachment under consideration, Counselor.”

  “Mr. Chief Justice, I am in the process of demonstrating the total innocence of an impeached President. I am most reluctant to leave this hanging in air.”

  “Counsel, the way you’re going about it is not a proper exercise in terms of the witness’s constitutional rights.”

  In visible surprise, Olmedo said, “May I respectfully ask in what way it is improper? The witness has volunteered a profoundly important admission. Why should I not pursue it?”

  “It is a question of who is pursuing whom. The witness is leading counsel.” He turned a disinterested glance on Horace. “Mr. Hubbard, you will have an opportunity of answering what I am sure will be a great many questions in regard to the testimony you have just given. But you are hereby ordered to volunteer nothing more on the subject and to answer no further questions about it until the Chief Justice orders you to do so. Is that clear?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Chief Justice,” Horace said.

  Hammett said, “Mr. Olmedo, kindly change the subject.”

  “Very well, Mr. Chief Justice,” Olmedo said. “Mr. Hubbard, it seems we must go back to where we came from.” Horace smiled at him in an encouraging and friendly fashion and waited for the next question as if he knew in advance exactly what it would be and could not wait to supply the answer.

  Olmedo said, “Let us return, Mr. Hubbard, to the question of oaths. Yesterday a witness, Mr. St. Clair, testified before the Senate that you are a member of a secret society called the Shelley Society. Was that a true and accurate statement?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it is a secret society that requires the taking of a solemn oath?”

  Horace nodded his head in amusement. “Very secret, very solemn. Worse than the Illuminati. Until yesterday I didn’t know that any outsider even suspected that it existed.”

  “What is its purpose?”

  “Very high-minded. One swears to try to imagine what it is like to be poor and downtrodden, and to work for the elimination of differences in wealth. When the millennium, called the Year Zed, comes and truth and beauty rule the world, all men will be equal in all ways. And happy too, of course.”

  “Is there an estimated date on which this is going to happen?”

  “No.”

  “Do Shelleyans sign over their inheritances to the poor in the meantime?”

  Horace smiled. “No. The vow of poverty is indefinitely postponed. These are twenty-year-old boys, Mr. Olmedo.”

  “But they remain Shelleyans for life, and one of the ways they do good in the world for the rest of their lives is to help one another out when asked to do so?”

  “It goes a bit beyond that,” Horace said. “If asked a favor by a fellow Sheileyan in the name of the Poet—that’s the wording—one is theoretically not free to refuse.”

  “No matter what is asked?”

  “That’s right. Of course not everyone takes that requirement as seriously as Palmer St. Clair.”

  “Is a request made in the name of the Poet always verbal?”

  “Not always. Sometimes it’s written out in Greek letters. It’s still in English, of course, just written in the Greek alphabet—what the British called the Greek cypher when they used it to baffle the natives during the Indian Mutiny.”

  “Thank you for the explanation,” Olmedo said. “I will ask you this. Who recruited you for intelligence work?”

  “The man who was then director of the American intelligence service.”

  “Was he a member of the Shelley Society?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “I knew him from childhood. He was a friend of my father’s who frequently came to our house.”

  “Was your father a member of the Shelley Society?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your half brother is a member?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many members are elected every year?”

  “Just one is tapped in each class, in the spring of junior year.”

  “Who does the tapping?”

  “The Shelleyan in the next class above you.”

  “Then you tap the chosen man in the class below you?”

  “With the advice of your senior, yes. That’s right.”

  “Who tapped you, Mr. Hubbard?”

  Horace paused, a mere heartbeat. “Baxter Busby,” he replied.

  “To clarify,” Olmedo said, “you are referring to Senator Baxter T. Busby of California?”

  “That’s correct. Right over there.”

  “And you and Baxter T. Busby have stayed in close touch with each other ever since?”

  “As close as possible. I have lived abroad, mostly.”

  “You met at reunions of the Shelley Society?”

  “There are none. In theory, even the members aren’t supposed to know who else belongs, apart from the man who taps you and the man you tap. Of course it becomes obvious enough as the years go by.”

  “Then the members are divided, in effect, into cells of three and know only each other as fellow Shelleyans?”

  “That’s the premise, yes. Most cells fall short of the ideal.”

  “I see,” Olmedo said. “Do you know whom your half brother tapped when it came his time to tap somebody in the class below him?”

  “I believe it was Palmer St. Clair, but that’s hearsay.”

  “And who tapped Julian?”

  Hammett said, “More hearsay, sir? You are skating on thin ice in regard to that list of names, Mr. Olmedo. Is there some point to these questions?”

  “We are coming to it, Mr. Chief Justice. If I may proceed.”

  “You may, but with due regard to relevance and earlier warnings about that list of names, Mr. Olmedo. And we will have no more hearsay, sir.”

  “As you wish, Mr. Chief Justice,” Olmedo said. “Mr. Hubbard, I will ask you this: Did you travel to the island of Mustique in the Caribbean Sea on March the fifth last, and there meet a member of the Shelley Society in secret, and did you make that journey under a false name, using a false passport, and wearing a disguise? And if so, for what purpose?”

  “Enough,” Hammett said, gaveling. “Enough, enough. The witness is instructed not to answer the question, if it can be described as a question instead of a grab bag. Disguises, sir? False passports? Secret meetings? Mr. Olmedo, where is your decency, sir, what is your purpose? You are recklessly endangering this witness and exhibiting outrageous contempt for this honorable Senate.”

  “If you believe that is so, I am sorry, Mr. Chief Justice,” Olmedo said. “And if avoiding the perils of answering truthfully under oath is the criterion, I will put the question elsewhere. Article One, Section Six, of the Constitution provides that a senator may not be questioned in any other place for any words spoken on the floor of the Senate. With that in mind, I ask that the Senate call Senator Baxter T. Busby of California as a witness for the President of the United States.”

  Hammett said, “That is not in order.”

  Olmedo radiated calm. “Mr. Chief Justice, if it please the Senate, it is entirely in order. Rule Eighteen of The Conduct of Impeachment Trials in the Senate states, quote, If a Senator is called as a witness, he shall be sworn, and give his testimony standing in his place, end quote. The question I wish to put to Senator Busby is material to the matter in hand.”

  Hammett said, “That is quite enough, Mr. Olmedo. The Chief Justice will not permit you to use the rules of the Senate and the Constitution of the United States of America to make a mockery of this most solemn process by attempting to subject members of the Senate to inquisitorial questioning for having belonged to a college fraternity.”

  Olmedo said, “On behalf of the President of the United States, bearing in mind my earlier request for a mistrial, I ask for a vote of
the Senate on this question.”

  “Mr. Chief Justice! Mr. Chief Justice!” Amzi Whipple was on his feet. “I move that the Senate instruct the Committee on the Impeachment to consider the question of a mistrial in closed session, and that the Senate adjourn so that it may do so without further delay.”

  “Second,” said Sam Clark.

  Looking into the solemn, determined faces on the Senate floor, Hammett realized that this was not a motion that would end in a tie vote. He struck the gavel. “Without objection, so ordered,” he said.

  14

  Looking down on Hammett from the gallery Attenborough thought, The scoundrel’s methods are wicked, and he makes up evil schemes to destroy the poor with lies, Book of Isaiah, chapter the thirty-second, verse the seventh. After the adjournment all the spectators except the Speaker had cleared out in a hurry, but he had a reason for staying where he was for a while. Albert reached Attenborough while some of the senators, including Clark and Whipple, were still on the floor and Hammett remained on the podium.

  Attenborough said, “Just stand in front of me for a minute so’s the cameras can’t see me, Albert, and hand me the little telephone.” The Speaker punched out Sam Clark’s number and down on the floor the Majority Leader took his phone out of his pocket and answered.

  “Sam, the President is going to resign within the hour,” Attenborough said. “I’m asking you to be my Vice President and hold yourself in readiness to become acting President under the Twenty-fifth Amendment within forty-eight hours.”

  After a silence Clark said, “Tucker, let this cup pass.”

  “Can’t,” Attenborough said. “Two more days is about all I can last and you’re the only one can get approved in the time available.”

  “What about Mallory?”

  “He agrees. He knows you’ll do the right thing by him and the people who voted for him. Sam, it don’t make a dime’s worth of difference who’s President for the next four years. Right from the start the only important thing has been to save the party because the country can’t go on like it always has without it.”

  “All right,” Clark said. “What now?”

  “Start saving the party,” Attenborough said. “Go into that committee meeting and smoke those bastards out. I’m going to call the President now.”

 

‹ Prev