Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

Sullivan slowly turned to Jack. “That’s a pretty big statement.”

“Well it’s a pretty big deal, sir.”

“So you know what I want to accomplish?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well why don’t you enlighten me as to what you think that is.” Sullivan sat down, crossed his arms and stared expectantly up at Jack.

Jack didn’t bother to swallow or catch his breath. “Ukraine has massive natural resources, all the things that heavy industry around the world use and want. The issue becomes how to get the resources out of Ukraine at minimal cost and minimal risk, considering the political situation over there.”

Sullivan uncrossed his arms, sat up and sipped at his coffee.

Jack continued. “The hook is you want Kiev to believe that the exports your company will be making will be matched by investments in Ukraine’s future. A long-term investment, I gather, you do not want to commit to.”

“I spent the bulk of my adult life being scared to death of the reds. I have about as much belief in perestroika and glasnost as I do in the tooth fairy. I consider it my patriotic duty to strip the communists of as much as I can. Leave them without the means to dominate the world, which is their long-term plan, despite this latest hiccup of democracy.”

Jack said, “Exactly, sir. ‘Strip’ being the key word. Strip the carcass before it self-destructs... or attacks.” Jack paused to check both men’s reactions. Lord stared at the ceiling, his features unreadable.

Sullivan stirred. “Go on. You’re getting to the interesting part.”

“The interesting part is how to leverage the deal so that Sullivan and Company has little or no downside exposure and the maximum upside potential. You’ll either broker the deal or you’ll buy direct from Ukraine and you’ll sell to the multinationals. You sprinkle a little of those proceeds around in Ukraine.”

“That’s right. Eventually the country will be almost cleaned out, and I’ll walk away with at least two billion net.”

Jack again looked at Lord, who now sat straight in his chair, listening intently. This was the hook. Jack had thought of it only yesterday.

“But why not take from Ukraine what really makes them dangerous?” Jack paused. “And triple your net at the same time.”

Sullivan stared intently at him. “How?”

“IRBMs. Intermediate-Range Ballistic Missiles. Ukraine has a shitload of them. And now that the ’94 Nonproliferation Treaty fell apart, those nukes are a major headache for the West again.”

“So what are you suggesting? That I buy the goddamn things? What the hell would I do with them?”

Jack watched Lord finally lean forward, then continued. “You buy them for bottom dollar, maybe a half-billion, using a portion of the proceeds from the raw materials sales. You will buy them using dollars, which can then be used by Ukraine to purchase other necessities in the world markets.”

“Why bottom-dollar? Every Middle Eastern country will be bidding on them.”

“But Ukraine can’t sell to them. The G-7 countries would never allow it. If Ukraine did, they’d be cut out of the EU and other Western markets, and if that happens, they’re dead.”

“So I buy them and sell them to whom?”

Jack couldn’t help but grin. “To us. The United States. Six billion is a conservative estimate on their worth. Hell, the weapons-grade plutonium those babies contain is priceless. The rest of the G-7s would probably pitch in a few billion. It’s your relationship with Kiev that makes this whole thing work. They look to you as their savior.”

Sullivan looked stunned. He started to rise and then thought better of it. Even to him the amounts of money potentially out there were staggering. But he had enough money, more than enough. But to remove part of the nuclear equation from the collective miseries of the world...

“And this was whose idea?” Sullivan looked at Lord as he asked the question. Lord pointed at Jack.

Sullivan leaned back in his chair and looked up at the young man. Then he rose with a swiftness that startled Jack. The billionaire took Jack’s hand in an iron grip. “You’re going places, young man. Mind if I tag along?”

Lord beamed like a father. Jack couldn’t stop smiling. He had started to forget what it was like to hit one out of the park.

After Sullivan departed, Jack and Sandy sat at the table.

Finally Sandy said, “I recognize it was not an easy assignment. How do you feel?”

Jack couldn’t help but grin. “Like I just slept with the prettiest girl in high school, kind of tingling all over.”

Lord laughed and stood up. “You’d better go home and get some rest. Sullivan’s probably calling his pilot from the car. At least we got his mind off the bitch.”

Jack didn’t hear the last part as he quickly left the room. For now, for once in a long time, he felt good. No worries, just possibilities. Endless possibilities.

That night he sat up late telling a very enthusiastic Jennifer Baldwin all about it. Afterward, over a very chilled bottle of champagne and a platter of oysters specially delivered to her townhouse, the couple had the most gratifying sex of their courtship. For once, the high ceilings and murals did not bother Jack. In fact, he was growing to like them.

The White House receives millions of pieces of nonofficial mail each year. Each item is carefully screened and appropriately processed, the whole task handled by an in-house staff with assistance and supervision by the Secret Service.

The two envelopes were addressed to Gloria Russell, which was somewhat unusual since most of this type of correspondence was addressed to the President or members of the First Family, or frequently the First Pet, which currently happened to be a golden retriever named Barney.

The handwriting on each was in block letters, the envelopes white and cheap and thus widely available. Russell got to them about twelve o’clock on a day that had been going pretty well up until then. Inside one was a single sheet of paper and inside the other was an item she had stared at for some minutes. Written on the paper, again in block letters, were the words:

Question: What constitutes high crimes and misde meanors? Answer: I don’t think you want to find out. Valuable item available, more to follow, chief, signed not a secret admirer

Even though she had expected it, in fact had desperately wanted to receive it, she still could feel her heartbeat increase to where it pounded against the wall of her chest; her saliva dwindled down to where she reached for and gulped down a glass of water and repeated the procedure until she could hold the letter without shaking. Then she looked at the second item. A photograph. The sight of the letter opener had brought the nightmare events rushing back to her. She gripped the sides of her chair. Finally the attack subsided.

“At least he wants to deal.” Collin put down the note and photo and returned to his chair. He noted the extreme pallor of the woman and wondered if she was tough enough to make it through this one.

“Maybe. It could also be a setup.”

Collin shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

Russell sat back in her chair, rubbed at her temples, downed another Tylenol. “Why not?”

“Why set us up this way? In fact, why set us up at all? He’s got the stuff to bury us. He wants money.”

“He probably got millions from the Sullivan heist.”

“Maybe. But we don’t know how much of it was liquid. Maybe he stashed it and can’t get back to it. Maybe he’s just an extremely greedy person. World is full of those.”

“I need a drink. Can you come over tonight?”

“The President is having dinner at the Canadian embassy.”