David Baldacci - First Family

"Now, is that a threat? Because even threats against nobodies like me are actionable."

"Would you like to hear my offer?"

"Why not? We came all this way."

"What's happened is regrettable. All around. Without going into detail I will tell you that all of this has been difficult, complicated. For both me and the president."

"Yeah, good thing it was so simple for the Quarry family. They just had a lifetime of misery because of what your husband did."

She ignored this interruption. "For the good of the country I am asking that you not raise any issues that might embarrass the president. He's a fine man. He's served his country with distinction. He's been a wonderful father."

"And why should we look the other way?"

"In return, I can assure you that no action will be taken against you for breaking into my brother's office and stealing his files. His confidential files, some of which I understand had to do with classified national security issues. This is a very serious matter indeed."

"I was working a case. On your behalf."

"That of course would be up to a court to decide. But I never told you to break the law. In addition, I've done a little digging on my own, and it's come to my attention that you also threatened Cassandra Mallory, allegedly blackmailing her. I believe that Ms. Mallory will also allege that you made improper sexual advances to her in her home to which you gained entry under false pretenses while she was in a state of undress."

"Little Miss Cassandra doesn't scare me at all, Jane."

"I also discovered that Aaron Betack apparently broke into my office and took something from my desk. And I think the facts will show that he did so at your behest. Not only will Agent Betack's career at the Secret Service be over but the three of you could go to prison."

"If you can prove it, go for it. But getting back to the list of your wonderful husband's accomplishments, I think you left one out."

"Which one?" she said coldly.

"Being an adulterer? That one get lost off your little checklist somehow?"

"And how about being a rapist?" said Michelle.

Jane rose. "You have no proof of anything. So I strongly suggest that you keep such ludicrous accusations to yourself unless you want to find yourselves in very serious trouble. He is the president of the United States. Show some damn respect."

"Respect for what?"

"I don't care what lies you might have seen on those walls in that house, you have no right-"

Sean cut her off. "What we saw on those walls was the truth. You knew it too, and that's why you burned the place down. And we have every right, lady."

"First Lady," she said.

Sean rose too. "When did you stop caring about the truth, Jane? When did it stop mattering to you? After the first cover-up? The second? Did you just convince yourself that it was always somebody else's fault? Or that he'd come around one day, take some pills, and it would all be better? The past, the hurt, just wiped clean? That a guy like Sam Quarry would just walk away, let it go? Like everybody else had? Because your husband was such a rising star? Because he'd make such a great president?"

"You can't know what it's like to be here, in this house. To always having to be on. To never once letting your guard down. Knowing that the smallest mistake you make will be broadcast all over the world."

"Hey, nobody twisted his arm. Or yours."

"I've worked too damn hard-" She broke off and dabbed her eyes with a cloth.

Sean stared at her. "I really thought I knew you. I thought I respected you. I thought you were real. It was all bullshit, wasn't it? All smoke and mirrors. Just like this town. Nothing behind the curtain."

"I think it's time for you to leave my house."

Michelle stood next to Sean.

He said, "Fine. But just remember one thing, Jane. It's not your house. It belongs to the American people. You and the hubby are just renting."

THE NEWSPAPER BUSINESS sucks, doesn't it, Marty?" said Sean loudly. "Nobody wants to wait for the paper anymore. They can get it all online all the time. Even if it's all made up."

It was midnight. He and Michelle were standing next to a support column in an underground parking garage in downtown Washington. The man walking toward them stopped and then chuckled as Sean and Michelle stepped out into the wash of light from the overheads.

Sean shook hands with Martin Determann and introduced Michelle to him.

"What business doesn't suck right now?" said Determann, who was short, with thick, graying black hair and a loud voice. Sharp eyes danced behind slender glasses. "And asking people to take the time to read and actually think about stuff? Heaven forbid."

Sean grinned. "Nobody likes a whiner, Marty."

"So why all the clandestine stuff?" He looked around at the empty garage. "I feel like I'm in a scene from All the President's Men."

"Think your own Deep Throat will help you sell a few more papers?"

Determann laughed. "I'd prefer a Pulitzer but I also keep an open mind. Hey, maybe I can ghostwrite your autobiography. What with all the ink you two have gotten lately, we could probably sell it to some publisher for seven figures, easy."

"I'm not kidding about the Deep Throat thing."

Determann turned serious. "I was actually hoping you weren't. What do you got?"

"Come on. This is going to take a while."

Sean had rented a motel room a little north of Old Town Alexandria. They headed there.

"So how do you two know each other?" asked Michelle as they drove on the George Washington Parkway alongside the Potomac.

Determann clapped Sean on the back. "This guy represented me in my divorce. Unknown to me, my ex was a cokehead who burned through my savings, cheated on me with the UPS driver, and actually had the nerve to poison my goldfish. And she still wanted half of everything I had when I caught on and filed to kick her out of my life. By the time Sean was done with old Ursula she got zip. I even got her dog. Which was a good thing, because he always liked me better anyway."

"I think Marty is exaggerating my accomplishments, but even though he sometimes stretches the truth, he's a helluva reporter."

"But still looking for that first Pulitzer." He eyed the large and packed accordion file Sean had beside him on the seat. "Is it in there?"

"You're going to find out soon enough."

They got to the room. Sean closed the door behind them, took off his coat, and said, "Let's get to it."

They methodically went through all the photos that Michelle had taken at Atlee as they filled Determann in on everything they had found out, from the AWOL report to the story Quarry had built on the walls in the basement to their near deaths in the mines.

When they got to the part about the First Lady burning down the house and killing Ruth Ann, Determann said, "You're screwing with me!"

"I wish we were."

Sean also showed him all the files he'd taken from Atlee that contained some of the background details on Quarry's hunt for justice.

Determann took copious notes and asked many questions. They ran out for coffee and drank it down as the hours drifted by. As the sun came up they went out for some more caffeine and breakfast at a restaurant in Old Town. While eating they kept going through it as the smooth waters of the Potomac sat in front of them and a jet lifted off from the nearby airport and soared across the sky. Back in the room they endured too much secondhand puff from the chain-smoking reporter and kept plowing through what they had learned and also what they suspected. By the time they were done the sun was high in the sky and it was past time for lunch.

Determann sat back and stretched. "Can I tell you that this is the most amazing shit that I have ever heard?"