William Bernhardt: Capitol Betrayal

“I’ll probably get ten minutes with him. If I’m lucky.”

“Look at you!” She grinned and pulled him closer. “You’re talking about meeting with President Kyler all calm, cool, and collected. I remember when you couldn’t think about talking to a judge without your knees shaking so badly you could barely walk.”

Ben shrugged. “Times change. People grow up.”

“They do indeed.” She wrapped her arms around him. “And may I just say, Mr. Kincaid, that I like the way you’ve grown up, very much.” She pressed herself against him and squeezed.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Ben grinned. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What a coincidence. I have a surprise for you also.”

“Well, you’ll never top mine.”

“Never say never.”

“No, that’s what you always do. You always top my story. But not this time.”

“Okay,” she said, “you go first.”

Ben beamed. “Robert says there’s a good chance that after this temporary appointment expires, I might be appointed to the president’s energy commission.”

“That’s terrific! Who better than a good Oklahoma boy to advise the president on energy concerns?”

“Well, he knows we have to shift over to natural gas, the sooner the better. Our dependency on foreign oil is killing this country on numerous fronts. And we simultaneously need to develop alternative energy sources-”

Christina held up her hands. “Hold on, tiger. I’ve already heard the speech. Save it for the president.”

“Right. Sorry. But isn’t that great news?”

“Terrific.”

“So what’s your news, huh? Go ahead and try to top a presidential commission appointment.”

She batted her long eyelashes. “I’ve signed LexiCo as a firm client.”

Ben’s lips parted. “No.”

“Yup. We’re their counsel for all litigation matters, civil and criminal.”

“No!” Ben knew LexiCo was a huge East Coast technology firm that Christina had been courting for months. Having them on the firm roster would not only generate much revenue but start a precedent. Where LexiCo went others would surely follow. Ben had been concerned about the firm and its nascent D.C. satellite office, especially after he went “Of Counsel” so he could take the White House appointment. Now it appeared that Christina had landed a client who could keep the firm busy well into the future. “That’s fantastic!”

“Yup. I’m hiring a new associate. Just in case I want to take some time off.”

“Good thinking.”

“And?”

He sighed. “And your news is bigger than mine.”

“Like I said, never say never.” She pulled him close once more.

“Can we make a date to watch Jeopardy together tonight?”

She made a small moue. “Because you’ve read, like, every history book ever written? I don’t think I can stand to hear you ace all the history questions again.”

“Hey, at least you don’t have to listen to someone talking about how sexy Alex Trebek is.”

“I only did that once!” She squeezed him all the tighter. “It’s just ‘cause he reminds me of you, you smarty. So tell me the truth-do you like me a lot, or do you really truly love me, Mr. Kincaid?”

He hugged her with all his heart and soul. “Yes.”

As it turned out, Ben’s estimates were all wrong. Traffic was so jammed as he left their K Street apartment that it took him forty-five minutes to get to the White House, but only twenty-five minutes to pass through all the security protocols and get to his office. It worked out the same. Only a few minutes after he reached his office, the president’s chief of staff knocked on his door. “The president is ready to see you.”

Ben rose to his feet. He knew Sarie Morrell didn’t like it, but his mother had taught him to always rise when a woman entered the room, and old habits died hard. Sarie was the president’s chief of staff, one of the few females to ever hold that position. Her crisp efficiency, not to mention her good looks and snappy dress, often reminded Ben of his wife. Sarie was a blonde, with long, straight hair that stretched past her shoulder blades, but she shared with Christina that most valuable of all assets: the ability to get things done. Other White House staffers dithered, changed their minds, vacillated, but not Sarie. Once she made a plan, she stuck to it and pushed to make it a reality. In the short time he’d been in the White House, Ben had seen what an asset she could be to President Kyler, whom he believed to be a good man with his heart in the right place.

“Do I need to bring anything?”

Sarie was an Alabama girl and spoke with a pronounced southern accent. “Just a notepad and your razor-sharp brains.”

“I think I left them at home.”

“Then fake it. That’s what the rest of us do.”

Ben grabbed his legal pad and followed her into the corridor. She moved fast, and he had to make an effort to walk with her, rather than in her wake. The legal office was at the far edge of the West Wing, near the elevator the First Family used to get to their personal rooms. The corridors were crowded today, but then, they almost always were. He was amazed by how much business, in so many different arenas, was conducted in the White House on a daily basis.

Ben still considered this sprawling mansion, which insiders called “the Residence,” a large Greek labyrinth. He had learned to negotiate his way by noting landmarks. In a few moments they passed the Red Room, a favorite of his because he knew it was a favorite of Eleanor Roosevelt’s and had been refurbished under the direction of Jacqueline Kennedy. Barely a half minute later, given Sarie’s brisk pace, they were whizzing by the Green Room and the Blue Room, both of which he knew had been substantially improved by Pat Nixon. Her husband had covered up FDR’s swimming pool and added a bowling alley. Pat had brought in more than six hundred fabulous artifacts and artworks. How did those two ever live together?

They turned right into the main corridor and almost collided with Dr. Henry Albertson, the president’s chief physician, who entered at the same time from the opposite side. Ben was surprised to see him. He knew the White House medical office was located at the far opposite end of the corridor.

Ben nodded at the doctor. “You’re walking briskly this morning.”

Albertson was an avuncular man in his mid-sixties, his hair still brown and his cheeks the color of radishes. “You do anything else in this joint, you’ll get trampled.”

“Not on your way to an emergency, I hope.”

“No. Just headed for the Oval Office.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Now? Are you involved in the offshore drilling case somehow?”

“No, no. I just like to drop in from time to time. To observe what’s going on.”

“You mean with the president?”

“Just every now and again. Whenever Sarie thinks it’s a good idea.”

Out the corner of his eye, Ben saw a look pass from Sarie to the doctor. The expression on Albertson’s face gave him the distinct impression that she thought he should close his mouth. He did.

As Ben continued walking down the corridor he attempted to break what had become an uncomfortable silence. “Any progress with the Speaker of the House, Sarie?” President Kyler was a Democrat, but the Republicans controlled the House, and as a result, Kyler had been unable to pass any of his major objectives so far. The Speaker, Congressman Wilkins, was extremely charismatic and high-profile, probably nursing presidential aspirations of his own. “Surely there must be someplace they can compromise.”

“If so, I haven’t found it. And believe me, I’ve tried.” She flashed him a quick smile. “I’ve turned on all my southern-girl charm and then some. Even offered to come by the House cafeteria and whip up a batch of my grandmama’s hominy grits. He didn’t go for it.”