Дэвид Балдаччи - King and Maxwell

Cole did not seem to notice, or if he did, he did not seem to care.

Sean said, “So Iran? That’s what we were doing?”

“Not as simple as that, no.”

“Money for weapons to fuel insurgents in Iran. With North Korea next on the drawing board?”

“Who told you that?”

“Private investigators, sir. We have to maintain confidences.”

“Just as we are with you,” added Michelle.

“So if it’s not that simple, can you enlighten us?” asked Sean.

“Why?”

“We have to know the big picture if we’re going to make a dent in this, Mr. President.”

Cole stared at him for a few seconds before leaning back against the couch. “As was mentioned in that stupid blog, the euros were going to purchase poppies for heroin production. Not really, of course, the poppies would never be used for drug making. At least not by us.”

“But you needed a way to launder the euros,” speculated Sean. “Before they got to their final destination.”

Cole nodded. “The purchased poppies would end up in a third party’s hands.”

“Let me guess,” said Sean. “An international arms dealer?”

“And then the weapons obtained in return for the poppies would make their way to Iran.”

“And what would the arms dealer do with the poppies?”

“I said the poppies would not be used by us for making heroin. I can’t speak for anyone else.”

“Permission to speak candidly, Mr. President?” said Sean.

“Considering you’re no longer in the Secret Service, you can speak candidly whenever you want.”

“Whoever came up with this plan needs to be fired, sir.”

“It’s idiotic,” added Michelle. “With so many ways it could go wrong. And did.”

Cole’s face flushed but then his anger quickly subsided. “I accepted the person’s resignation two days ago. Not that that matters. The buck stops with me. I authorized it. I own it.”

The room was quiet for a few seconds.

Cole said, “The blogger?”

“Out of the game,” said Sean. “He knew nothing about his source.”

“You believe him?”

“I can read fear in a man’s eyes,” said Sean. “He was clueless. Just looking for the next big scoop.”

“Do you have leads to the source?”

“Working on that right now.”

“If it came by email my people could work back to the source, but–”

“That tricky balance thing,” said Michelle. “Free speech, the Fourth Estate.”

“Right. A scandal is one thing. Perhaps survivable. Covering up the scandal is unforgivable.”

“Then let us do our thing, Mr. President,” said Sean.

“Can you find Sam Wingo?”

“I believe so.”

“Do you think he’s involved in this?”

“We think he was set up.”

“By whom?”

“Not clear yet. But we have some leads and we’re running them down.”

The president rose. “Then I should let you get on with it. I have an appointment outside the office.”

Sean and Michelle stood.

“Thank you, sir,” said Sean.

“Anything I can do, let me know. I can’t drop everything I’m doing, but this is a priority for me.”

“Understood.”

Sean and Michelle followed at a distance as Cole and his protection detail, surrounding him in a hard diamond pattern, walked down the passageway.

They went outside where the motorcade was waiting.

The presidential limo, known as the Beast, sat there with its engine running. D.C. cops had already cleared all roads the motorcade would travel on. The Beast did not stop for red lights or anything else.

Before the door was closed Cole looked up at them. “I’m counting on you both.”

Then the motorcade was off.

Michelle looked wistful as the long line of vehicles sped away.

“It is impressive,” said Sean.

“Yeah,” said Michelle.

“But it gets old fast.”

She snorted. “Right.”

“This way,” said a Secret Service agent.

They were driven back to their vehicle outside the hospital.

As they climbed into the Land Cruiser, Sean, noting his partner’s subdued look, said, “That was your past, Michelle. You can’t live in the past.”

“Sure you can, Sean. If you’re not too thrilled with your future.”

“HIS FATHER-IN-LAW?” SAID SEAN.

He and Michelle were sitting across from Edgar Roy at his farmhouse west of D.C. The place looked asymmetrical in that the interior and furnishings were rustic, but there was gleaming computer equipment everywhere.

Edgar had texted them on their way back from the hospital that he had news to share. They had immediately headed to his farmhouse.

Edgar sat at his desk, which was actually a large rectangular section of sanded and painted three-inch-thick plywood painted black that rested on four sawhorses. Sitting on it were three giant computer screens set next to one another.

Edgar nodded but looked oddly chagrined. “Yes, Dan Marshall is Alan Grant’s father-in-law.”

“His father-in-law?” exclaimed Sean again.

“Yes. Alan Grant married Leslie Marshall nine years ago. They have three children. Dan Marshall is a widower. His wife, Maggie, died of cancer two years ago.” He paused. “I’m sorry that I didn’t find this connection earlier. I can’t believe I missed it.”

“It’s okay,” said Michelle in a soothing tone. “It just shows you’re human like the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sean. “Only you have four times the brain power of the rest of us.”

This seemed to perk up Edgar’s spirits and he continued in a firmer voice. “Alan Grant served in the Army and was honorably discharged. He heads up Vista Trading Group. I could find no connection between Vista and Heron Air Service.”

Sean said, “And Grant’s parents? You said you’d found something there?”

“A suicide pact. They killed themselves back in 1988 when Grant was thirteen.”

Michelle said, “Suicide pact? What was the reason?”

“Franklin Grant served as an assistant to the NSC [41] NSC – National Security Council. back in the 1980s. He became embroiled in the Iran-Contra affair and I guess he couldn’t live with it and neither could his wife. All very, very sad.”

Michelle looked at Sean. “Okay, is that significant?”

“Maybe.”

Sean looked at Edgar. “What else can you tell us about Franklin Grant’s duties at the National Security Council?”

“Most of it, Sean, is still classified. But from what I could gather Franklin Grant might have been in the loop on the scheme but wasn’t in favor of it. I dug a bit deeper than just the papers and other media reports at the time. It seems that Grant tried to speak out against his superiors but they used him as a scapegoat.” Edgar looked down for a moment and said, “I know what that feels like.”

“We know you do, Edgar,” said Michelle. “So a scapegoat and leaving behind a young and suddenly orphaned Alan Grant.”

Sean looked thoughtful. “I remember reading about Iran-Contra in the papers, of course, although I came to Washington after it was over. I don’t remember the name Franklin Grant.”

Edgar glanced at his screen. “There wasn’t much to find. There were juicier parts out there. Reagan and all his high-ranking administration officials. Oliver North. North’s secretary. Manuel Noriega. Franklin Grant seems to have simply gotten lost in the history shuffle.”

“But he was the only one who paid the ultimate price, right?” Michelle asked.

Sean added, “From what I remember, even though a ton of documents ended up somehow being lost or withheld during the course of the investigation, quite a few administration officials were indicted and/or convicted, including the then-secretary of defense. But a bunch of the convictions were either overturned on appeal or vacated. And those that weren’t were pardoned by the next administration. I think North got jail time but he was pardoned too, or something like that.”