Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

“Yes it was.” Sullivan continued to look down the street. He believed that he had finally convinced the police that the one-way mirror was not connected to the crime. Whether they were completely convinced was another matter. In any event it had been quite an embarrassing moment for a man not accustomed to such. The detective, Sullivan couldn’t remember his name, had not given Sullivan the respect he deserved and that had angered the older man. If anything, he had earned the respect of everyone. It did not help matters that Sullivan did not feel the least bit confident in the local police’s abilities to find the persons responsible.

He shook his head as his thoughts returned to the mirror. At least it had not been disclosed to the press. That was attention Sullivan could not tolerate. The mirror had been Christine’s idea. But he had to admit he had gone along with it. Now as he looked back, it seemed ludicrous. At first it had fascinated him, watching his wife with other men. He was beyond the age where he could satisfy her himself, but he could not reasonably deny her the physical pleasures that were beyond him. But it had all been absurd, including the marriage. He saw that now. Trying to recapture his youth. He should have known that nature bowed to no one, regardless of their monetary worth. He was embarrassed and he was angry. He finally turned to Lord.

“I’m not certain that I have confidence in the detective in charge. How can we get the federals involved?”

Lord put his glass down, lifted a cigar from a box hidden within the recesses of his desk and slowly unwrapped it.

“Homicide of a private citizen isn’t grounds for a federal investigation.”

“Richmond is getting involved.”

“Fluff, if you ask me.”

Sullivan shook his massive head. “No. He seemed genuinely concerned.”

“Maybe. Don’t count on that concern lingering for too long. He has a thousand cans of worms to handle.”

“I want the people responsible for this caught, Sandy.”

“I understand that, Walter. Of all people, I understand that. They will be. You have to be patient. These guys weren’t nickel-and-dimers. They knew what they were doing. But everybody makes mistakes. They’ll go to trial, mark my words.”

“And then what? Life imprisonment, correct?” Sullivan said contemptibly.

“It’s probably not going to be a capital murder case, so life is what they’ll end up getting. But no chance of parole, Walter, believe me. They’ll never breathe another drop of free air. And getting a little prick in the arm might seem real desirable after a few years of getting bent over every night.”

Sullivan sat down and stared at his friend. Walter Sullivan wanted no part of any trial. Where all the details of the crime would be revealed. He winced at the thought of all of it being rehashed. Strangers knowing intimate details of his life and that of his deceased wife. He could not bear that. He just wanted the men caught. He would arrange the rest. Lord had said the Commonwealth of Virginia would imprison for life the persons responsible. Walter Sullivan decided right then and there that he would save the commonwealth the cost of that lengthy incarceration.

Russell curled up on the end of the couch, bare feet tucked under a loose-fitting cotton pullover that stopped slightly above her calves. Her ample cleavage peeked at him where the fabric suddenly dipped. Collin had fetched himself two more beers and poured her another glass of wine from the bottle he had brought with him. His head was now slightly warm, as though a small fire were burning inside. The necktie was now loosened, the jacket and gun lay on the opposite couch. She had fingered it as he had taken it off.

“It’s so heavy.”

“You get used to it.” She did not ask the question he was usually confronted with. She knew he had killed someone.

“Would you really take a bullet for the President?” She looked at him through drooping eyelids. She had to remain focused, she kept telling herself. That had not stopped her from leading the young man to the very threshold of her bed. She felt a large measure of her control slipping away. With a masterful effort she started to regain it. What the hell was she doing? At a crisis point in her life and she was acting like a prostitute. She needn’t approach the issue in this way. She knew that. The tugging she was feeling from another sector of her being was disrupting her decision-making processes. She could not allow that, not now.

She should go change again, retreat back to the living room, or perhaps to her study where the dark oak paneling and walls of books would quash the unsettling rumblings.

He eyed her steadily. “Yes.”

She was about to get up but never made it.

“I’d take one for you too, Gloria.”

“For me?” Her voice quavered. She looked at him again, her strategic plans forgotten, her eyes wide.

“Without thinking. Lot of Secret Service agents. Only one Chief of Staff. That’s the way it works.” He looked down and said quietly, “It’s not a game, Gloria.”

When he went again for more beer he noticed that she had moved close enough that her knee touched his thigh when he sat down. She stretched her legs out, rubbing against his, and then she rested them on the table across from them. The pullover had somehow worked itself up, revealing thighs that were full and creamy white; they were the legs of an older woman, and a damned attractive one. Collin’s eyes moved slowly across the display of skin.

“You know I’ve always admired you. I mean all of the agents.” She almost seemed embarrassed. “I know sometimes you get taken for granted. I want you to know that I appreciate you.”

“It’s a great job. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He chugged another beer, and felt better. His breathing relaxed.

She smiled at him. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Anything to help, Gloria.” His confidence level was going up as his alcohol intake increased. He finished the beer and she pointed with an unsteady finger to a stand of liquor over by the door. He mixed drinks for them, sat back down.

“I feel I can trust you, Tim.”

“You can.”

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t feel that way with Burton.”

“Bill’s a top agent. The best.”

She touched his arm, left it there.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I know he’s good. I just don’t know about him sometimes. It’s hard to explain. It’s just an instinct on my part.”

“You should trust your instincts. I do.” He looked at her. She looked younger, much younger, like she should be graduating college, ready to take on the world.

“My instincts tell me that you’re someone I can depend on, Tim.”

“I am.” He drained his drink.

“Always?”

He stared at her, touched his empty glass to hers. “Always.”

His eyes were heavy now. He thought back to high school. After scoring the winning touchdown in the state championship. Cindy Purket had looked at him just like that. An all-giving look on her face.

He laid his hand on her thigh, rubbed it up and down. The flesh was just loose enough to be intensely womanly. She didn’t resist but instead inched closer. Then his hand disappeared under the pullover, tracing over her still firm belly, just nicking the undersides of her breasts, and then returning into view. The other arm encircled her waist, drawing her closer to him; his hand dropped down to her bottom and gripped hard. She sucked in air and then let it out slowly, as she leaned into his shoulder. He felt her chest push into his arm, up and down. The floating mass was soft, and warm. She dropped her hand to his hardening crotch and squeezed, then lingered her mouth over his, slowly pulling back and looking at him, her eyelids moving up and down in slow rhythms.