Ted Allbeury - The Twentieth Day of January

“What gossip have you heard?”

De Jong moved around in his chair as if being comfortable was much more important than what he had to say. He refilled their glasses and leaned back.

“D’you know Harper?”

“Morton Harper, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not my area but I meet him from time to time.”

“All our conversation is off the record, yes?”

“Whatever you say.”

He put down his notebook and took up his drink.

“I’ve got a feeling that he’s playing footsie with the Democrats. Have you heard anything on these lines?”

“Not a thing. What’s he doing?”

“A little bird tells me that he’s having Dempsey investigated.”

“Andrew Dempsey?”

“Yes.”

“What’s he after?”

“I’m not really sure, but there were some killings up in Hartford a few weeks back and I gather from my people there that there was talk of a strike some years back and Dempsey was involved in some way that might have involved Powell in election offences.” De Jong leaned forward, put down his glass, and wiped his hands on a linen handkerchief as if he had been soiled by both the glass and the rumours.

“Can I pursue this, Mr. de Jong?”

“As long as my name is not brought into it, certainly. Mind you, it may be a wild goose chase. These things often are.”

Schultz smiled and stood up.

“I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Yes. Do that, my friend. Do that.”

Morton Harper had insisted that the meeting should be held at Langley, and Chief Justice Elliot and Sam Bethel were ferried from Washington by Nolan, who escorted them through the security checks towards the Director’s office.

Elliot held out his hand. “My God, Morton, it’s like a giant public washroom. This place would drive me crazy.”

“Welcome, sir. I guess I’d get dizzy sitting up on your bench a-listening to the mortals down below.”

“ Touché ,” said Elliot, and blew his nose violently as he looked around the office.

Nolan and MacKay were already at the big table in the corner of the room, and when the salutations were over Harper invited them to sit down. Nolan noticed that this time Harper was at the head of the table.

“Gentlemen, I’ve called this meeting because we now have the evidence that you asked us to obtain. My Secretariat have produced a four-page summary of our findings and there is supporting documentation in your folders. Can I ask you to read the summary before we talk. Take as long as you wish.”

Nolan watched the bent heads. The Chief Justice was underlining with a pencil as if he were reading a brief, and Sam Bethel was getting visibly more angry as he read on. He finished first and looked at Harper, shaking his head in obvious disgust. Then Elliot pushed his glasses back up his nose and leaned back.

“Well, Morton. A cast of thousands. You must be delighted.”

The eagle eyes watched the genuine surprise on Harper’s face.

“That’s not quite the word I would have chosen, Judge.”

“No, of course not. How foolish of me.” He looked across at Mr. Speaker. “What about you, Sam?”

Bethel leaned back. “You know, I sometimes wonder if this damn country isn’t going crazy.”

“Maybe you’re right, Sam. But right now we’ve got to decide what to do about it.” Elliot couldn’t hide his impatience.

Harper put his hands together and Nolan recognized the sign.

“There’s a wide variety of action open to us. Would you like me to go over it?”

Elliot nodded. “By all means.”

“In no particular order of importance, we can do these things. We can leak it to the press and let it go where it will. We can inform the out-going President. We can inform the Secretary of State. We can form an impeachment committee. We can confront Powell, who must be wondering by now where all his friends have gone. We can pass it all to the FBI whose province it really is. Or we can do nothing.”

There was silence round the table as each man wondered if there was yet another alternative. A nicer, simpler one. Nolan wondered if anyone else around the table had thought of eliminating Powell. On reflection he thought it unlikely. MacKay might, but not the others. It was Harper who broke the silence.

“What d’you think, Mr. Speaker?”

“Well, we don’t inform the press, that’s for sure. And we should be causing maximum embarrassment beyond what we have already achieved if we told the present incumbent. There would be an inter-party dogfight. The FBI won’t pick up this hot potato, you can be sure of that. We can’t even consider doing nothing. We’d deserve to be put up against a wall. The only thing possible is to confront Powell.”

Elliot raised his bushy white eyebrows.

“And what do we do if he tells us to jump in the lake, Sam?”

“You show him those bloody pictures of him screwing the girl.”

Elliot turned to Harper. “Has he indicated anything to you about whether you’ll be left at CIA?”

“He called me to a meeting yesterday. Implied that he hadn’t made up his mind yet.”

“Was he suspicious, d’ye think?”

“I don’t think so. He seemed very sure of himself.”

“Did he ask any policy questions?”

“No. He was telling me what it was all about.”

Nolan chipped in. “Say we take it that some sort of confrontation is the only way. What’s our objective? What do we want him to do? And what do we think his reactions will be?”

Sam Bethel belched softly. “Pardon. His reactions are going to be unpredictable. When he confirmed my reappointment he wasn’t the diffident new boy. He was enjoying the power. I even got a few words of advice on handling the House. I’d say his reaction’s gonna be like a Doberman having two pounds of rump steak pulled out of its jaws. He ain’t gonna go quietly. I’d put my silver dollar on that. He could have us all in the pen in hours.”

Elliot was not amused. “Not me, Mr. Speaker. Not me.”

“OK. You can send in the food parcels, Judge.”

Harper spoke softly. “Who’s going to be the one to approach him?”

“Mr. Speaker,” said Elliot.

“The Chief Justice,” said Bethel.

Nolan caught Harper’s eye. “You want to say something, Mr. Nolan?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Carry on, then.”

“It’s quite clear from Dempsey’s statement, and from the scuttlebutt in Hartford that Powell and his wife have been estranged for years. She was totally against him going into politics right from the start. In fact, she wouldn’t have politicians in the house. Dempsey cashed in on this estrangement so that Powell would not have an alternative background. Nothing to fall back on. He was dependent in every way on Dempsey, whether he knew it or not.

“From what I’ve been able to find out it was a normal marriage up to the time Powell stood for the governorship. She met him when he was at Yale and his father still lectures there. It seems she had looked forward to sharing in an academic life. She tolerated him setting up as a business consultant but closed the shutters when he went into politics.

“She co-operated, but not very enthusiastically, during the Presidential election campaign but according to what I’ve gathered from White House security they haven’t been together since the night of the election.”

Nolan paused and Sam Bethel said slowly, “What’s this got to do with the present situation, Nolan?”

“We want him out of politics, and so does she. She could be the one who confronts him.”

Elliot frowned. “You mean tell her about all this, and leave it to her?”

“Not quite, sir. We could give her the pictures and suggest she could save his face. Tell him that if he doesn’t opt out he’ll be impeached or exposed. But we would let him off the hook if she could persuade him to bow out gracefully before inauguration.”