Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

The President scanned the copy, memorizing some, the rest he would ad-lib; his memory was phenomenal, an asset that had served him well.

“That’s why I have you, Gloria, isn’t it? To make it all better?”

He looked at her.

For a moment she wondered if he knew. If he knew what she had done with him. Her body stiffened and then relaxed. He couldn’t know, that was impossible. She remembered his drunken pleadings; oh how a bottle of Jack could change a person.

“Of course it is, Alan, but some decisions have to be made. Some alternative strategies have to be developed depending on what we find ourselves faced with.”

“I can’t exactly cancel my schedule. Besides, this guy can’t do anything.”

Russell shook her head. “We can’t be sure of that.”

“Think about it! He’ll have to admit to burglary to even place himself there. Can you see him trying to get on the evening news with that story? They’ll put him in a rubber room in a New York minute.” The President shook his head. “I’m safe. This guy cannot touch me, Gloria. Not in a million years.”

They had worked out a threshold strategy on the limo ride back to town. Their position would be simple: categorical denial. They would let the absurdity of the allegation, if it ever came, do their work for them. And it was an absurd story despite the fact that it was absolutely true. Sympathy from the White House for the poor, unbalanced and admitted felon and his shamefaced family.

There was, of course, another possibility, but Russell had chosen not to address that with the President just yet. In fact she concluded it was the more likely scenario. It was really the only thing allowing her to function.

“Stronger things have happened.” She looked at him.

“The place was cleaned, right? There’s nothing left to find, right, except her?” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Right.” Russell licked her lips. The President didn’t know that the letter opener with his prints and blood on it was now in the possession of their felonious eyewitness.

She stood up and paced. “Of course I can’t speak about certain traces of sexual contact. But that wouldn’t be linked to you in any event.”

“Jesus, I can’t even remember if we did it or not. It seems like I did.”

She couldn’t help smiling at his remark.

The President turned and looked at her. “What about Burton and Collin?”

“What about them?”

“Have you talked to them?” His message was clear enough.

“They have as much to lose as you, don’t they, Alan?”

“As us, Gloria, as us.” He fixed his tie in the mirror. “Any clue to the Peeping Tom?”

“Not yet; they’re running the plate.”

“When do you think they’ll realize she’s missing?”

“As warm as it’s been during the day, soon I hope.”

“Real funny, Gloria.”

“She’ll be missed, inquiries will be made. Her husband will be called, they’ll go to the house. The next day, maybe two, maybe three tops.”

“And then the police will investigate.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that.”

“But you’ll keep on top of it?” A trace of concern crossed the President’s brow as he thought swiftly through various scenarios. Had he fucked Christy Sullivan? He hoped that he had. At least the night wouldn’t have been a total disaster.

“As much as we can without arousing too much suspicion.”

“That’s easy enough. You can use the angle that Walter Sullivan is a close friend and political ally of mine. It would be natural for me to have a personal interest in the case. Think things through, Gloria, that’s what I pay you for.”

And you were sleeping with his wife, Russell thought. Some friend.

“That rationale had already occurred to me, Alan.”

She lit a cigarette, blew the smoke out slowly. That felt good. She had to keep ahead of him on this. Just one small step ahead and she would be fine. It wouldn’t be easy; he was sharp, but he was also arrogant. Arrogant people habitually overestimated their own abilities and underestimated everyone else’s.

“And nobody knew she was meeting you?”

“I think we can assume she was discreet, Gloria. Christy didn’t have too much upstairs, her gifts were slightly lower, but she understood economics with the best of them.” The President winked at his Chief of Staff. “She had about eight hundred million to lose if her husband found out she was screwing around, even with the President.”

Russell knew about Walter Sullivan’s odd viewing habits from the mirror and chair, but then again, for the assignations he didn’t know about, didn’t get to watch, who knew what his reaction would’ve been? Thank God it hadn’t been Sullivan sitting there in the dark.

“I warned you, Alan, that one day your little extracurricular activities would get us into trouble.”

Richmond looked at her, disappointment on his features. “Listen, you think I’m the first guy to hold this office to catch a little action on the side? Don’t be so goddamned naive, Gloria. At least I’m a helluva lot more discreet than some of my predecessors. I take the responsibilities of the job... and I take the perks. Understand?”

Russell nervously rubbed at her neck. “Completely, Mr. President.”

“So it’s just this one guy, who can’t do anything.”

“It only takes one to bring the house of cards tumbling down.”

“Yeah? Well there are a lot of people living in that house. Just remember that.”

“I do, Chief, every day.”

There was a knock at the door. Russell’s deputy assistant leaned in. “Five minutes, sir.” The President nodded and waved him off.

“Great timing on this presentation.”

“Ransome Baldwin contributed heavily to your campaign, as did all of his friends.”

“You don’t have to explain political paybacks to me, sweetheart.”

Russell stood up and moved over to him. She took his good arm, looked intently at him. On his left cheek was a small scar. A souvenir from some shrapnel during a brief stint in the Army toward the end of the Vietnam War. As his political career had taken off, the female consensus was that the tiny imperfection greatly enhanced his attractiveness. Russell found herself staring at that scar.

“Alan, I will do whatever it takes to protect your interest. You will get through this, but we need to work together. We’re a team, Alan, we’re a helluva team. They can’t take us down, not if we act together.”

The President studied her face for a brief moment, and then rewarded her with the smile that routinely accompanied front-page headlines. He pecked her on the cheek, squeezed her against him; she clung to him.

“I love you, Gloria. You’re a trouper.” He picked up his speech. “It’s showtime.” He turned and walked out. Russell stared after his broad back, carefully rubbed at her cheek and then followed him out.

Jack looked around the overstated elegance of the immense East Room. The place was full of some of the most powerful men and women in the country. Skillful networking was taking place all around him, and all he could do was stand and gawk. He looked across the room and spied his fiancée cornering a congressman from some state out west, no doubt plying Baldwin Enterprises’s needy case for the good legislator’s assistance on riparian rights.

His fiancée spent much of her time gaining access to holders of power at all levels. From county commissioners to Senate Committee chairmen, Jennifer stroked the right egos, fed the right hands, and made certain that all the important players were in place when Baldwin Enterprises wanted another mammoth deal orchestrated. The doubling of the assets of her father’s company during the last five years was due in no small part to her excelling at that task. In truth, what man was really safe from her?