Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

Burton turned and walked out the door.

Gloria Russell sat in her living room and held the epistle in her quavering hand. She looked at the clock. It had come right on time, via messenger; a turbaned older man in a beat-up Subaru. A Metro Rush Couriers logo on the passenger door. Thank you, ma’am. Say good-bye to your life. She had expected to finally have in her hand the key to wiping away all the nightmares she had suffered. All the risks she had taken.

The wind was starting to howl in the chimney. A cozy fire burned in the fireplace. The house was scrupulously clean thanks to the efforts of Mary, her part-time maid, who had just left. Russell was expected at Senator Richard Miles’s home for dinner at eight. Miles was very important to her own personal political aspirations and he had started making all the right noises. Things had finally started to go right again. The momentum had shifted back to her. After all those torturous, humiliating moments. But now? But now?

She looked at the message again. The disbelief continued to sweep over her like an enormous fishing net, dragging her to the bottom, where she would remain.

Thanks for the charitable contribution. It will be greatly appreciated. Also appreciate the extra rope you just gave me to hang you. About that item we had discussed, it’s no longer for sale. Now that I think about it, the cops will probably need it for the trial. Oh, by the way, FUCK YOU!

It was all she could do to stagger up. Extra rope? She couldn’t think, she couldn’t function. She first thought to call Burton, but then realized he would not be at the White House. Then it hit her. She raced to the TV. The six o’clock news was just recounting a late-breaking story. A daring police operation conducted jointly by the Middleton County Police Department and Alexandria City Police had netted a suspect in the Christine Sullivan murder case. A shot had been fired by an unknown gunman. The target was assumed to be the suspect.

Russell watched as footage from the Middleton police station was run. She saw Luther Whitney, staring straight ahead, not in any way attempting to hide his face, walk up the steps. He was far older than she had imagined he would be. He looked like a school principal. That was the man who had watched her... It never even occurred to her that Luther had been arrested for a crime she knew he had not committed. Not that that revelation would have prompted her to do anything. As the cameraman swung around, she glimpsed Bill Burton with Collin behind him as they stood listening to Detective Seth Frank make a statement to the press.

The goddamn incompetent bastards! He was in custody. He was in fucking custody and she had a message right there in her hand that guaranteed the guy was going to make sure they were all brought down. She had trusted Burton and Collin, the President had trusted them, and they had failed, failed miserably. She could hardly believe how Burton could be standing there so calmly while their entire world was about to flame out, like a suddenly used-up star.

Her next thought surprised even her. She raced to the bathroom, tore open the medicine cabinet and grabbed the first bottle she saw. How many pills would be enough? Ten? A hundred?

She twisted at the cap but her shaking hands couldn’t get it off. She continued to struggle; finally the pills spilled into the sink. She scooped up a handful and then stopped. In the mirror, her reflection stared back. For the first time she realized how much she had aged. The eyes were gaunt, her cheeks had caved in and her hair looked as if it were graying before her eyes.

She looked at the mass of green in her hand. She couldn’t do it. Despite her world shattering in front of her, she could not do it. She flushed the pills, turned out the light. She telephoned the senator’s office. Sickness would prevent her from attending. She had just lain down on the bed when the knock came.

At first it seemed like the distant beating of drums. Would they have a warrant? What did she have that could incriminate her? The note! She tore it out of her pocket and tossed it in the fireplace. As it ignited and a burst of flame sailed up the chimney, she smoothed down her dress, put on her pumps and walked out of the room.

For the second time a stab of pain seared her chest as her eyes fell upon Bill Burton at the front door. Without a word he walked in, threw off his coat and went straight to the liquor.

She slammed the door.

“Great job, Burton. Brilliant. You took care of everything beautifully. Where’s your sidekick? Getting his damned eyes examined?”

Burton sat down with his drink. “Shut up and listen.”

Ordinarily such a remark would have sent her off. But his tone stopped her dead. She noted the holstered weapon. She suddenly realized she was surrounded by people carrying guns. They seemed to be everywhere. Shots were now being fired. She had thrown in her lot with some very dangerous people. She sat down and stared at him.

“Collin never fired his weapon.”

“But—”

“But somebody did. I know that.” He swallowed most of his drink. Russell thought about mixing herself one, but decided against it.

He looked at her. “Walter Sullivan. That sonofabitch. Richmond told him, right?”

Russell nodded. “You think Sullivan was behind this?”

“Who the fuck else could it be? He thinks the guy killed his wife. He has the money to hire the best shooters in the world. He was the only other person who knew exactly where it was going down.” He looked at her and shook his head in disgust. “Don’t be stupid, lady, we don’t have time for stupid.”

Burton stood up and paced.

Russell’s thoughts went back to the TV. “But the man’s in custody. He’ll tell the police everything. I thought it was them at the door.”

Burton stopped pacing. “The guy’s going to say nothing to the police. At least for now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about a man who will do anything so his little girl can keep on living.”

“You, you threatened him?”

“I got my message across real clear.”

“How do you know?”

“Eyes don’t lie, lady. He knows the game. Talk and his daughter goes bye-bye.”

“You, you wouldn’t really—”

Burton reached down and grabbed the Chief of Staff, effortlessly lifting her off the floor and holding her in midair so she was eye-level.

“I will kill any fucking person who is in a position to fuck with me, do you understand that?” His tone was chilling. He threw her back into the chair.

She stared up at him, the blood gone from her face, her eyes filled with terror.

Burton’s face was crimson with fury. “You were the one who got me into this. I wanted to call the cops right from the get-go. I did my job. Maybe I killed the woman, but there ain’t a jury in the world that would’ve found me guilty. But you sucker-punched me, lady, with all your global disaster talk and bullshit concern for the President, and stupid me, I fell for it. And right now I’m about one step away from pissing away twenty years of my life and I’m not happy about it. If you can’t understand that, tough.”

They sat without speaking for several minutes. Burton cradled his glass and studied the carpet, thinking intently. Russell kept one eye on him as she tried to stop shaking. She could not bring herself to tell Burton about the note she had received. What good would it do? For all she knew Bill Burton would pull out his gun and shoot her on the spot. The thought of violent death so close to her made her blood turn to ice.

Russell managed to sit back in her chair. A clock ticked in the background; it seemed to be counting down the last remaining moments of her life.