Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

The President leaned forward and stared directly at him. He clasped his hands together, his brow wrinkled and he went from jovial to intensely serious in an instant.

“I want to thank you, Seth.” He glanced at Burton. “Bill has told me how cooperative you were with the investigation of Christine Sullivan’s death. I really appreciate that, Seth. Some officials would have been less than forthcoming or tried to turn it into a media circus for their own personal gain. I hoped for better from you and my expectations were exceeded. Again, thank you.”

Frank glowed as though he had been awarded the fourth-grade spelling bee crown.

“It’s terrible, you know. Tell me, have you learned of any connection between Walter’s suicide and this criminal being gunned down?”

Frank shook the stars from his eyes and his pair of steady eyes came to rest on the chiseled features of the President.

“Come on, Lieutenant. I can tell you that all of official and unofficial Washington is right this very minute savagely attacking the issue of Walter Sullivan having hired an assassin to avenge his wife’s death and then taking his own life in the aftermath. You can’t stop people from gossiping. I would just like to know if your investigation has led to any fact to substantiate Walter having ordered the killing of his wife’s murderer.”

“I’m afraid that I really can’t say one way or another, sir. I hope you understand, but this is an ongoing police investigation.”

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I’m not treading on your toes. But I can tell you that this has been a particularly distressing time for me. To think Walter Sullivan would end his own life. One of the most brilliant and resourceful men of his era, of any era.”

“So I’ve heard an awful lot of people say.”

“But just between you and me, knowing Walter as I did, it would not be out of the realm of possibility that he would have taken precise and concrete steps to have his wife’s killer... dealt with.”

“Alleged killer, Mr. President. Innocent until proven guilty.”

The President looked at Burton. “But I was led to understand that your case was pretty much ironclad.”

Seth Frank scratched his ear. “Some defense attorneys love ironclad cases, sir. See, you dump enough water on iron, it starts to rust and before you know it, you got holes everywhere.”

“And this defense attorney was such a person?”

“And then some. I’m not a betting man, but I would’ve given us no more than a forty percent shot at getting a clean conviction. We were in for a real battle.”

The President sat back as he absorbed this information and then looked back at Frank.

Frank finally noted the expression of expectancy on his face and flipped open his notebook. His heartbeat calmed down as he perused the familiar scribbles.

“Are you aware it was right before his death that Walter Sullivan called you here?”

“I know that I spoke with him. I was not aware that it immediately preceded his death, no.”

“I guess I’m a little surprised that you didn’t come forward with this information earlier.”

The President’s face fell. “I know. I guess I’m a little surprised myself. I supposed I believed I was shielding Walter, or at least his memory, from further trauma. Although I knew the police would eventually discover the call was placed. I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”

“I need to know the details of that phone conversation.”

“Would you like something to drink, Seth?”

“A cup of coffee would be fine, thank you.”

As if on cue, Burton picked up a phone in the corner and a minute later a silver-plated coffee tray was delivered in.

The steaming hot coffee was sipped; the President looked at his watch, then saw Frank staring at him.

“I’m sorry, Seth, I am treating your visit with the importance it deserves. However, I’ve got a congressional delegation coming to lunch in a few minutes and quite frankly I’m not looking forward to it. As funny as it sounds, I’m not particularly enamored of politicians.”

“I understand. This will only take a few minutes. What was the purpose of the call?”

The President leaned back in his chair as if organizing his thoughts. “I would characterize the call as one of desperation. He was definitely not his usual self. He seemed unbalanced, out of control. For long periods of time he would say nothing. Very unlike the Walter Sullivan I knew.”

“What did he talk about?”

“Everything, and nothing. Sometimes he just babbled. He talked about Christine’s death. And then about the man, the man you arrested for the murder. How he hated him, how he had destroyed his life. It was truly awful to hear.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Well, I kept asking him where he was. I wanted to find him, get him some help. But he wouldn’t tell me. I’m not sure he heard a word I said, really, he was that distraught.”

“So you think he sounded suicidal, sir?”

“I’m no psychiatrist, Lieutenant, but if I had to make a layman’s guess about his mental state, yes, I would definitely say Walter Sullivan sounded suicidal that night. It’s one of the few times during my presidency that I felt truly hopeless. Frankly, after the conversation I had with him, I was not surprised to learn that he was dead.” Richmond glanced at Burton’s impassive face, then looked at the detective. “That’s also why I questioned you as to whether you had determined if there was any truth to the rumor that Walter had anything to do with this person being gunned down. After Walter’s telephone call I have to admit that the thought certainly crossed my mind.”

Frank looked over at Burton. “I suppose you don’t have a recording of the conversation? I know that some of the communications here are recorded.”

The President answered. “Sullivan called my private line, Lieutenant. It’s a secure communication link and no recordings of conversations on that line are allowed.”

“I see. Did he directly indicate to you that he was involved in the death of Luther Whitney?”

“Not directly, no. He obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. But reading between the lines, the rage that I knew he was feeling — well, and I hate to make this statement of a man who’s dead, I think it was pretty clear that he had had the man killed. I have no proof of that of course, but it was my strong impression.”

Frank shook his head. “Pretty uncomfortable conversation to have.”

“Yes, yes it was very uncomfortable. Now, Lieutenant, I’m afraid that official duty calls.”

Frank didn’t budge. “Why do you think he called you, sir? And at that time of night?”

The President sat back down, threw another quick glance at Burton. “Walter was one of my closest personal friends. He kept odd hours, but then so do I. It would not be unusual for him to call at that hour. I hadn’t heard very much from him for the last few months. As you know, he had been under a considerable personal strain. Walter was the sort to suffer in silence. Now Seth, if you will excuse me.”

“It just strikes me as odd that out of all the people he could have called, he called you. I mean the chances were pretty good that you wouldn’t even be here. Presidents’ travel schedules are pretty hectic. It makes me wonder what he was thinking.”

The President leaned back, placed his fingers together, and studied the ceiling. Cop wants to play games to show me how smart he is. He looked back at Frank and smiled. “If I were a mind reader I wouldn’t have to rely so heavily on the pollsters.”

Frank smiled. “I don’t think you have to be telepathic to know you’re going to be occupying that chair for another four years, sir.”