Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

“Stephanie, I’ve worked my whole life to get here. It’s a position where one person can really do something. And I’ve done all right. Unemployment is at its lowest in thirty years. Inflation is nonexistent. Interest rates are modest. I even pushed through a tax cut two years ago.”

“With Larry Daley yanking Congress’s chain. Hard to lose.” She could not resist. This man may be president, but at the moment her bullshit-tolerance level was well below zero.

Daniels rocked in silence, staring out into the dense woods. “You remember Rocky III. ”

She did not answer.

“I loved those movies. Rocky was always pounded to the breaking point, then that great music played, trumpets and all. He’d see everything clearly, grab a second wind, and beat the crap out of the other guy.”

She listened with amusement.

“In Rocky III he finds out that Mickey, his trainer, was arranging easy fights. Sure wins. Just so Rocky could keep his title and wouldn’t get hurt. Stallone played that great. He wants to fight Mr. T, but Mickey says no, he’ll kill you. Rocky gets furious when he realizes he may not be as good as he thought he was. Of course, Mickey dies and Rocky finally KOs Mr. T.”

The president’s words carried a tone of respect.

“Daley is my Mickey,” he said in a near whisper. “He fixed my fights. I’m like Rocky. I don’t like it.”

“And you didn’t know?” she asked.

He shook his head with an odd mixture of annoyance and curiosity. “I was working on nailing him myself when I discovered that you were investigating. Using a call girl? Imaginative. My people weren’t as creative. I have to say, when I was told, my opinion of you changed that day.”

She needed to know, “How did you know I was doing it?”

“My guys love wiretaps and video. So they listened and watched. We knew about the flash drives. And we also knew his hiding place. So we were just waiting.”

“That investigation was months ago. Why didn’t you move on him?”

“Why didn’t you?”

The answer was obvious. “I can’t fire him. You can.”

Daniels planted both feet on the deck and balanced on the rocker’s edge. “Scandal is a tough thing, Stephanie. There’s nobody in this country who’s going to believe that I didn’t know what Daley was doing. I had to take him out, but with no fingerprints.”

“So Daley needed to do it to himself,” Cassiopeia said.

Daniels faced her. “That was the preferable way. But Larry specializes in survival. And I have to say, he’s good at it.”

“What’s he got on you?” Stephanie asked.

Her audacity seemed to please rather than anger him. “Other than those compromising pictures of me with a goat, not all that much.”

She grinned. “It had to be asked.”

“Yes, it did. I see what they say about you, Stephanie. Aggravating you can be. How about we return to my question, which neither of you seems to think is important. Why did Brent Green want to talk directly with Cotton?”

She recalled what Daley said in the museum. “Daley told me Brent is bucking to be the next vice president.”

“Which brings us to the purpose of this gathering.” Daniels leaned back and started rocking again. “I like to play the good ol‘ boy. Part of my Tennessee hill country upbringing. It’s one reason I love Camp David so much. Reminds me of home. But now it’s time to be president. Somebody accessed our secured files and managed a look at the Alexandria Link. Then they leaked that information to two foreign governments, both of which are now in an uproar. The Israelis are really pissed. Yes, publicly it sounds like we’re at each other’s throats. But privately, I like those folks. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is going to screw with Israel on my watch. Unfortunately, I have some in this administration who think otherwise.”

She wanted to ask who, but decided to let him talk.

“Something has been placed in motion, which all started when Cotton Malone’s boy was taken. Luckily, with Malone, these folks have no idea who they’re dealing with. He’ll give ‘ em fits. Which gives us an opportunity to flesh things out. One of my uncles used to say, Want to kill snakes? Simple. Set fire to the underbrush and wait for them to slither out. Then you can whack their heads off. That’s what we’re going to do here.”

Cassiopeia shook her head. “Like I said, what you have, Mr. President, is a mess. I’ve only been involved for a day or two, but I have no idea who’s telling the truth.”

“Including me?”

Cassiopeia’s emerald eyes tightened. “Including you.”

“That’s good. You should be suspicious.” His voice rang of sincerity. “But I need your help. That’s why I fired you, Stephanie. You needed freedom of movement. Now you have it.”

“To do what?”

“Find my traitor.”

VIENNA

11:20 PM

THORVALDSEN LED GARY FROM THE CHÂTEAU’S SECOND FLOOR down to ground level. He’d heard nothing more from Alfred Hermann since their brief conversation earlier. Gary had spent the evening with a few of the other guests. Two members had brought their teenage children, and Hermann had arranged for them to dine in the greenhouse at the rear of the mansion.

“That was neat,” Gary said. “Butterflies land right on your plate.”

Thorvaldsen had visited the schmetterlinghaus several times and also found it fascinating. He’d even thought of adding one to Christiangade.

“They’re remarkable creatures that require great care.”

“Place was like a tropical forest.”

Neither one of them could sleep. Gary was apparently a night person, too. So they made their way into Hermann’s library.

Thorvaldsen had heard earlier that the Blue Chair intended to meet with the Economic Committee. Those discussions should go on for a while, which would give him time to read and prepare. Tomorrow’s Assembly would be one of decision. Debate needed to be to the point and accurate. Everyone would leave on Sunday. The Assembly was never a prolonged affair. Staff and committees narrowed issues to only the ones that required a collective vote. These were then presented, discussed, and resolved-the Order’s course set for the coming months until spring.

So he needed to be ready.

The cavernous library was two stories tall and encased with shiny walnut paneling. A black marble fireplace flanked by baroque figurines and a French tapestry dominated one wall. Built-in shelves sheathed the remaining three top-to-bottom, the room crowned with a dramatic ceiling painting that made it appear open to the sky.

A spiral staircase corkscrewed a path to the upper shelves. He clung to a slick iron rail and slowly climbed the narrow risers.

“What are we doing here?” Gary asked when they reached the top.

“I want to read something.”

He knew of the podium in Hermann’s library, upon which was displayed a magnificent Bible. Hermann had boasted that the edition was one of the earliest printed. Thorvaldsen approached the ancient tome and admired its elaborate cover.

“The Bible was the first book created when printing was finally perfected in the fifteenth century. Gutenberg produced many Bibles. This is one. As I told you earlier, you should read it.”

Gary stared at the book and Thorvaldsen knew the lad could not appreciate the significance. So he said, “These words changed the course of human history. They altered humankind’s social development and forged political systems. This and the Koran may be the two most important books on the planet.”

“How can words be that important?”

“It’s not simply words, Gary. It’s what we do with them. After Gutenberg began mass printing, books quickly spread. They weren’t cheap, but by 1500 they were common. More access to information meant more dissent, more informed discussion, more widespread criticism of authority. Information changed the world. Made it a different place.” He motioned at the Bible. “And this book changed everything.”