Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

Frank had stayed on the phone a second longer and wished he hadn’t. He yelled into the phone but she could not hear him; not that it would have made a difference if she had. She was doing the right thing. She had nothing to be ashamed about, nothing to feel guilty about. When he finally gave up and cradled the receiver, his moment of euphoria at growing ever close to his quarry was over like a flamed-out match.

So his question had been answered. She loved him still. That thought for Lieutenant Seth Frank was troubling but controllable. For Seth Frank, father of three, it made his eyes water and he suddenly didn’t like his job very much anymore.

Burton hung up the phone. Detective Frank had been true to his promise to let the agent in on the kill.

Minutes later Burton was in Russell’s office.

“I don’t want to know how you’re going to do it.” Russell looked worried.

Burton smiled to himself. Getting squeamish, just like he predicted. Wanted the job done, just didn’t want to get her pretty nails dirty.

“All you have to make sure you do is tell the President where it’s going down. And then you make damn sure he tells Sullivan before the fact. He has got to do that.”

Russell looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Let me worry about that. Just remember, do what I tell you.” He was gone before Russell had a chance to explode at him.

“Are the police sure he’s the one?” There was a hint of anxiousness in the President’s voice as he looked up from his desk.

Russell, pacing the room, stopped to look at him. “Well, Alan, I’m assuming that if he weren’t they wouldn’t be going to all the trouble to arrest him.”

“They’ve made mistakes before, Gloria.”

“No argument there. Just like us all.”

The President closed the binder he had been examining and stood up, surveyed the White House grounds from the window.

“So the man will shortly be in custody?” He turned to look at Russell.

“So it would seem.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that the best-laid plans sometimes go awry.”

“Does Burton know?”

“Burton seems to have orchestrated the entire thing.”

The President walked over to Russell; put his hand on her arm.

“What are you talking about?”

Russell relayed the events of the last few days to her boss.

The President rubbed his jaw. “What is Burton up to?” The question was said more to himself than to Russell.

“Why don’t you buzz him and ask him yourself? The only point he was absolutely insistent on was your relaying the message to Sullivan.”

“Sullivan? Why the hell would...” The President did not finish his thought. He rang for Burton but was told he had suddenly become ill and gone to the hospital.

The President’s eyes bored into his Chief of Staff. “Is Burton going to do what I think he’s going to do?”

“Depends on what you’re thinking.”

“Cut the games, Gloria. You know exactly what I mean.”

“If you mean does Burton intend on making sure that this individual is never taken into custody, yes, that thought had crossed my mind.”

The President fingered a heavy letter opener on his desk, sat down in his chair and faced out the window. Russell shuddered when she looked at it. She had thrown the one on her desk away.

“Alan? What do you want me to do?” She stared at the back of his head. He was the President and you had to sit and wait patiently, even if you wanted to reach across and throttle him.

Finally he swiveled around. The eyes were dark, cold and commanding. “Nothing. I want you to do nothing. I better get in touch with Sullivan. Give me the location and time again.”

Russell thought the same thing she had earlier as she recounted the information. Some friend.

The President picked up his phone. Russell reached across and put her hand on top of his. “Alan, the reports said Christine Sullivan had bruises on her jaw and had been partially strangled.”

The President didn’t look up. “Oh really?”

“What exactly happened in that bedroom, Alan?”

“Well, from the small pieces I can remember she wanted to play a bit rougher than I did. The marks on her neck?” He paused and put down the phone. “Let’s just put it this way: Christy was into a lot of kinky things, Gloria. Including sexual asphyxiation. You know, people get off when they’re gasping for air and climaxing at the same time.”

“I’ve heard of it, Alan, I just didn’t think you’d be into something like that.” Her tone was harsh.

The President snapped back: “Remember your place, Russell. I do not answer to you or anyone else for my actions.”

She stepped back, and quickly said, “Of course, I’m sorry, Mr. President.”

Richmond’s face relaxed; he stood up and spread his arms resignedly. “I did it for Christy, Gloria, what can I say. Women sometimes have strange effects on men. I’m certainly not immune to it.”

“So why did she try to kill you?”

“Like I said, she wanted to play rougher than I did. She was drunk and she just went out of control. Unfortunate, but those things happen.”

Gloria looked past him out the window. The encounter with Christine Sullivan did not just “happen.” The time and planning that had gone into that rendezvous had eventually taken on the elements of a full-blown election campaign. She shook her head as the images from that night poured back to her.

The President came up behind her, gripped her shoulders, turned her to him.

“It was an awful experience for everyone, Gloria. I certainly didn’t want Christy to die. It was the last thing in the world I wanted. I went there to have a quiet, romantic evening with a very beautiful woman. My God, I’m no monster.” A disarming smile emerged across his face.

“I know that, Alan. It’s just, all those women, all those times. Something bad was bound to happen.”

The President shrugged. “Well, as I told you before, I’m not the first man to hold this office to engage in those types of extracurricular activities. Nor will I be the last.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “You know the demands of the office I hold, Gloria, better than most. There’s no other job like it in the world.”

“I know the pressures are enormous. I realize that, Alan.”

“That’s right. It’s a job that really requires more than is humanly possible to deliver. Sometimes you have to deal with that reality by relieving some of that pressure, from pulling yourself out from between the vise occasionally. How I deal with that pressure is important, because it dictates how well I can serve the people who have elected me, who have placed their trust in me.”

He turned back to his desk. “And besides, enjoying the company of beautiful women is a relatively innocuous way of combating that stress.”

Gloria stared angrily at his back. As if he expected her, of all people, to be swayed by the rhetoric, by a bullshit patriotic speech.

“It certainly wasn’t innocuous for Christine Sullivan,” she blurted out.

Richmond turned back to her; he was no longer smiling. “I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, Gloria. What’s past is past — start thinking about the future. Understand?”

She bowed her head in formal assent and stalked from the room.

The President again picked up the phone. He would deliver all the necessary details about the police sting to his good friend Walter Sullivan. The President smiled to himself as the call was being placed. It sounded like it wouldn’t be long now. They were almost there. He could count on Burton. Count on him to do the right thing. For all of them.

Luther checked his watch. One o’clock. He showered, brushed his teeth and then trimmed his newly grown beard. He lingered over his hair until it met with his satisfaction. His face looked better today. The phone call from Kate had worked wonders. He had cradled the phone in his ear playing the message over and over again, just to hear the voice, the words he had never expected to hear again. He had risked going to a men’s store downtown where he bought a new pair of slacks, sports coat and patent leathers. He had considered and then discarded the notion of a tie.