Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

Russell sat down in a chair. The problem was Richmond didn’t have all the facts. If he knew about the letter opener would he have taken these same steps? If he knew about the note and photo Russell had received? She was withholding information from her boss, information that could ruin both of them, absolutely and completely.

As Russell walked down the hallway back to her office, she didn’t notice Bill Burton staring at her from a passageway. The look was not one of affection, not anywhere close.

Stupid, stupid bitch. From where he was standing he could’ve popped three slugs into the back of her head. No sweat. His talk with Collin had cleared up the picture completely. If he had called the police that night, there would have been trouble, but not for him and Collin. The President and his skirted sidekick would’ve taken all the heat. The woman had snookered him. And now he was barely hanging on the edge of all that he had worked for, sweated for, taken bullets for.

He knew far better than Russell what they were all confronted with. And it was because of that knowledge that he had made his decision. It had not been an easy one, but it was the only one he could make. It was the reason he had visited Seth Frank. And it was also the reason he had had the detective’s phone line tapped. Burton knew his course of action was probably a long shot, but they were all well outside the range of guarantees of any kind now. You just had to go with the cards you had and hope Lady Luck would smile on you at some point.

Again Burton shook with anger at the position the woman had put him in. The decision her stupidity had caused him to make. It was all he could do not to run down the stairs and break her neck. But he promised himself one thing. If he lived to do nothing else, he would ensure that this woman would suffer. He would rip her from the safe confines of her power career and hurl her right into the shit of reality — and he would enjoy every minute of it.

Gloria Russell checked her hair and lipstick in the mirror. She knew she was acting like a damned love-struck teenager, but there was something so naive and yet so masculine about Tim Collin that it was actually starting to distract her attention from her work, something that had never happened before. But it was a historical fact that men in power positions usually got some action on the side. Not an ardent feminist, Russell saw nothing wrong with emulating her male counterparts. As she saw it, it was just another perk of the position.

As she slipped out of her dress and underwear and into her most transparent nightgown, she kept reminding herself of why she was seducing the younger man. She needed him for two reasons. One, he knew about her blunder with the letter opener and she needed absolute assurance that he keep quiet about that, and, second, she needed his help to get that piece of evidence back. Compelling, rational reasons and yet tonight, like all the nights before, they were the furthest things from her mind.

At that moment she felt she could fuck Tim Collin every night for the rest of her life and never tire of the feelings that flooded through her body after each encounter. Her brain could rationalize a thousand reasons why she should stop, but the remainder of her body was, for once, not listening.

The knock on the door came a little early. She finished primping her hair, quickly checked her makeup again, and then awkwardly slipped into her heels as she hurried down the hallway. She opened the front door and it felt like someone had plunged a knife between her breasts.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Burton put one foot inside the half-opened door and one massive hand against the door itself.

“We need to talk.”

Russell unconsciously checked behind him for the man she had expected to make love to her tonight.

Burton noted the glance. “Sorry, lover-boy ain’t coming, Chief.”

She tried to slam the door closed, but couldn’t budge the two-hundred-and-forty-pound Burton an inch. With maddening ease he pushed open the door and went inside, shutting the door behind him.

He stood in the entranceway looking at the Chief of Staff, who was now desperately trying to understand what he was doing there at the same time she was trying to cover up strategic parts of her anatomy. She was not succeeding with either.

“Get out, Burton! How dare you come barging in here? You’re through.”

Burton moved past her into the living room, barely brushing against her as he walked by.

“Either we talk here or we talk someplace else. It’s up to you.”

She followed him into the living room. “What the hell are you talking about? I told you to get out. You’re forgetting your place in the official hierarchy, aren’t you?”

He turned to face her. “You always answer the door dressed like that?” He could understand Collin’s interest. The nightgown did nothing to hide the Chief of Staff’s voluptuous figure. Who would’ve thought? He might have been aroused despite twenty-four years with the same woman and four children spawned from that marriage, except for the fact that he was absolutely repulsed by the half-naked woman standing across from him.

“Go to hell! Go straight to hell, Burton.”

“That’s probably where we’re all going to end up, so why don’t you go get on some clothes and then we’re going to talk and then I’ll leave. But until then I ain’t going anywhere.”

“Do you realize what you’re doing? I can crush you.”

“Right!” He pulled out the photos from his jacket pocket and tossed them down on the table. Russell tried to ignore them, but finally picked them up. She steadied her trembling legs by placing a hand on top of a table.

“You and Collin make a beautiful couple. You really do. I don’t think the media will lose sight of that fact. Might make for an interesting movie of the week. What do you think? Chief of Staff gets brains screwed out by young Secret Service agent. You could call it The Fuck Heard ’Round the World. That’s catchy, don’t you think?”

She slapped him, as hard as she had ever slapped anyone. Pain shot through her arm. It had been like hitting a piece of wood. Burton took her hand and twisted it sideways until she screamed.

“Listen lady, I know every fucking thing that’s going on here. Everything. The letter opener. Who’s got it. Most importantly, how he got it. And now this recent correspondence from our little larcenous voyeur. Now any way you cut it, we got us a big problem, and seeing that you’ve screwed everything up from the get-go, I think a change of command is in order. Now go get out of the hooker clothes, and come back in here. If you want me to save your horny little ass, you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do. Do you understand? Because if you don’t then I suggest we go have a little chat with the President. It’s up to you. Chief!” Burton spat out the last word, communicating unequivocally his absolute disgust with her.

Burton slowly let go of her arm but still towered over her like a mountain. His massive bulk seemed to block out her ability to think. Russell gingerly rubbed her arm and almost timidly looked up at him as the hopelessness of her situation started to sink in.

She went immediately to the bathroom and threw up. It seemed like she was spending an increasing amount of her time doing that. The cold water on her face finally started to work through the throes of nausea until she was able to sit up and then walk slowly to her bedroom.

Her head spinning, she changed into long pants and a thick sweater, dropping the negligee on the bed, too ashamed to even look at it as the garment floated down; her dreams for a night of pleasure shattered with terrifying abruptness. She replaced her red stilettos with a pair of brown flats.