Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

“What about men of character?”

“That’s a relative term. I prefer to see it as the United States partnering with the worldwide business community to accomplish goals of a mutually beneficial nature.”

“You’re a murderer,” Gary said.

A soft knock came from the door and Hermann stepped across to answer. One of the vice president’s security men whispered to Hermann. A puzzled look came to the Austrian’s face, then he nodded and the security man left.

“The president is on the telephone,” Hermann said.

Surprise flooded the vice president’s face. “What the hell?”

“He tracked you here from the Secret Service. Your detail reported that you were in here with me and two others, one a boy. The president wants to talk to us all.”

Thorvaldsen realized they’d have no choice. The president clearly knew a lot.

“He also wanted to know if I had a speakerphone,” Hermann said as he walked to his desk and punched two buttons.

“Good day, Mr. President,” Hermann said.

“I don’t think you and I have ever met. Danny Daniels calling from Washington.”

“No, sir. We haven’t. It’s a pleasure.”

“Is my vice president there?”

“I’m here, Mr. President.”

“And Thorvaldsen, you there? With the Malone boy?”

“He’s here with me,” Thorvaldsen said.

“First, I have some tragic news. I’m still reeling from it. Brent Green is dead.”

Thorvaldsen caught the instant of shock on the vice president’s face. Even Hermann flinched.

“Suicide,” Daniels said. “Shot himself in the head. I was just told a few minutes ago. Awful. We’re working up a press release now before the story explodes.”

“How did this happen?” the vice president asked.

“I don’t know, but it did and he’s gone. Also, Larry Daley is dead. Car bomb. We have no idea about the culprits there.”

More dismay invaded the vice president’s expression and his shoulders seemed to sag an inch.

“Here’s the situation,” Daniels said. “Under the circumstances, I’m not going to be able to travel to Afghanistan next week. America needs me here and I need my vice president to take my place.”

The vice president stayed silent.

“Anybody there?” Daniels said in a loud voice.

“Yes, sir,” the vice president said. “I’m here.”

“Great. Get your tail back here today and be ready to go next week. Of course, if you don’t want to make that trip to see the troops, you can tender your resignation. Your choice. But I actually prefer you make the trip.”

“What are you saying?”

“This isn’t a secure line, so I doubt you want me to say what I really think. Let me say it with a story. One my daddy used to tell. There was a bird flying south for the winter, but he got caught in an ice storm and fell to the ground. He froze, but a cow came along and crapped on him. The warm poop unthawed him and he liked it so much he started to sing. A cat came along to see what the commotion was about, asked if he could help, saw it was a meal, and ate the bird. Here are the morals of the story. Everybody who shits on you ain’t your enemy. Everybody who comes along to help ain’t your friend. And if you’re warm and happy, even in a pile of shit, keep your mouth shut. That make my point?”

“Perfectly, sir,” the vice president said. “How do you suggest I explain my resignation?”

“Tough to use the always popular Spend more time with my family. No one in our position quits for that reason. Let’s see, the last VP to resign was facing indictment. Can’t use that one. Of course, you can’t tell the truth, that you got caught committing high treason. How about, The president and I seem no longer capable of working together ? Being the consummate politician that you are, I’m sure you will choose your words real careful because if I hear one thing I don’t like, then I’m going to tell the truth. Talk issues, debate our differences, tell people I’m an asshole. All fine. But nothing I don’t want to hear.”

Thorvaldsen watched the vice president. The man seemed to want to protest but wisely realized the effort would do no good.

“Mr. President,” Thorvaldsen said. “Stephanie and Cassiopeia okay?”

“They’re fine, Henrik. Can I call you that?”

“Nothing else.”

“They were instrumental in working things through on this end.”

“What about my mom and dad?” Gary blurted out.

“That must be Cotton’s boy. Nice to meet you, Gary. Your mom and dad are fine. I talked with your dad just a few minutes ago. Which brings me to you, Herr Hermann.”

Thorvaldsen caught the disdain in the president’s voice.

“Your man Sabre found the Library of Alexandria. Actually, Cotton did that for him, but he did try to steal it away. Sabre’s dead. So you lose. We have the library and, I assure you, not a soul will ever know where it is. As for you, Herr Hermann, Henrik and the boy better have no problems leaving your château, and I don’t want to hear another word out of you or I’ll let the Israelis and the Saudis know who orchestrated all this. Your problems then will be beyond comprehension. There will be no place good for you to hide.”

The vice president slumped into one of the chairs.

“One more thing, Hermann. Not a word to bin Laden and his people. We want to meet them next week while they wait for my plane. If they’re not there with missiles ready, I’m sending my commandos to take you out.”

Hermann said nothing.

“I’ll take your silence to mean you understand. You see, that’s the great thing about being the leader of the free world. I have a lot of people willing to do what I want. People with a wide variety of talents. You got money. I got power.”

Thorvaldsen had never met the American president, but he already liked him.

“Gary,” the president said. “Your dad will be back in Copenhagen in a couple of days. And Henrik, thanks for all you did.”

“I’m not sure I really helped.”

“We won, didn’t we? And that’s what counts in this game.”

The line clicked off.

Hermann stood silent.

Thorvaldsen pointed to the atlas. “Those letters are useless, Alfred. You can’t prove anything.”

“Get out.”

“Gladly.”

Daniels was right.

Game over.

WASHINGTON, DC

MONDAY, OCTOBER 10

8:30 AM

STEPHANIE SAT IN THE OVAL OFFICE. SHE’D BEEN THERE MANY times, mostly feeling uncomfortable. But not today. She and Cassiopeia had come to meet with President Daniels.

Brent Green had been buried yesterday in Vermont with honors. The press had lauded his character and achievements. Democrats and Republicans said he would be missed. Daniels himself had delivered the eulogy, a moving tribute. Larry Daley had been buried, too, in Florida, without fanfare. Only some family and a few friends. Stephanie and Cassiopeia had both attended.

Interesting how she’d read both men wrong. Daley wasn’t a saint by any means, but he wasn’t a murderer or a traitor. He’d tried to stop what was happening. Unfortunately, what was happening had stopped him.

“I want you back at the Magellan Billet,” Daniels said to her.

“You might find that hard to explain.”

“I don’t have to explain myself. I never wanted you to go, but I had no choice at the time.”

She wanted her job back. She liked what she did. But there was another matter. “What about bribing Congress?”

“I told you, Stephanie. I knew nothing about that. But it stops here and now. Just like with Green, though, the country won’t benefit from that kind of scandal. Let’s end it and move on.”

She wasn’t necessarily sure of Daniels’s lack of complicity, but she agreed. That was the better course.