Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

“So how does that lead to Graham coming in here to pop two people?”

“I didn’t say it was premeditated. The video time tables show pretty clearly that the deceased was here several hours before Graham showed up.”

“So?”

“So the two don’t know the other’s here, or maybe Graham sees Lord’s office light on when he’s driving by. It overlooks the street, it’d be easy enough to see someone in the office.”

“Yeah, except if the man and woman were getting it on, I’m not sure they’d be showcasing it to the rest of the city. The blinds were probably down.”

“Right, but come on, Lord wasn’t in the best of shape so I doubt if they were doing it the whole time. In fact the office light was on when they were found and the blinds were partially open. Anyway, accidental or not, the two run into each other here. The argument is rekindled. The feelings accelerate, maybe threats are made. And bam. Heat of the moment. It could be it was Lord’s gun. They struggle. Graham gets the piece away from the old guy. Shot’s fired. Woman sees it all, she has to eat a round too. All over in a few seconds.”

Frank shook his head. “Excuse me for saying so, Craig, but that sounds awfully farfetched.”

“Oh yeah? Well we got the guy blowing out of here white as a sheet. The camera got a clear shot of him. I’ve seen it, there was no blood left in the guy’s face, Seth, I’m telling you.”

“How come Security didn’t come and check things out then?”

Miller laughed. “Security? Shit. Half the time those guys aren’t even looking at the monitors. They got a tape backup you’re lucky if they even review on any consistent basis. Let me tell you it is not hard to get into one of these office buildings after hours.”

“So maybe somebody did.”

Miller shook his head, grinning. “Don’t think so, Seth. That’s your problem. You look for a complicated answer when the simple one’s staring you in the face.”

“So where did this gun mysteriously appear from?”

“A lot of people keep guns stashed in their office.”

“A lot? Like how many is a lot, Craig?”

“You’d be surprised, Seth.”

“Maybe I would!” Frank shot back.

Miller looked puzzled. “Why do you have such a bug up your ass about this?”

Frank didn’t look at his friend. He stared over at the desk.

“I don’t know. Like I said, I got to know the guy. He didn’t seem like the type. So his prints were on the weapon?”

“Two perfect hits. Right thumb and index. Never seen clearer ones.”

Something in his friend’s words jolted Frank. He was looking at the desk. The highly polished surface had been defaced. The small water ring was clearly visible.

“So where’s the glass?”

“What’s that?”

Frank pointed to the mark. “The glass that left that mark. Have you got it?”

Miller shrugged and then chuckled. “I haven’t checked the dishwasher in the kitchen, if that’s what you’re asking. Be my guest.”

Miller turned to sign off on a report. Frank took the opportunity to check out the desk more closely. In the middle of the desk was a slight dust ring. Something had been there. Square in shape, about three inches across. The paperweight. Frank smiled.

A few minutes later Seth Frank walked down the hallway. The gun had perfect prints on it. Too perfect more like it. Frank had also seen the weapon and the police report on it. A .44 caliber, serial numbers obliterated, untraceable. Just like the weapon found next to Walter Sullivan.

Frank had to allow himself a smile. He had been right in what he had done, or more accurately, what he had not done.

Jack Graham had been telling the truth. He hadn’t killed anybody.

“You know, Burton, I’m becoming a little tired of having to devote so much time and attention to this matter. I do have a country to run in case you’ve forgotten.” Richmond sat in a chair in the Oval Office in front of a blazing fire. His eyes were closed; his fingers formed a tight pyramid.

Before Burton could respond, the President continued. “Instead of having the object back safely in our possession, you have managed only to contribute two more entries to the city’s homicide fiasco, and Whitney’s defense attorney is out there somewhere with possibly the evidence to bury us all. I’m absolutely thrilled with the result.”

“Graham’s not going to the police, not unless he’s real fond of prison food and wants a big, hairy man as his date for life.” Burton stared down at the motionless President. The shit he, Burton, had gone through to save all their asses while this prize stayed safely behind the lines. And now he was criticizing. Like the veteran Secret Service agent had really enjoyed seeing two more innocent people die.

“I do congratulate you on that part. It showed quick thinking. However, I don’t believe we can rely on that as a long-term solution. If the police do take Graham into custody he’ll certainly produce the letter opener, if he has it.”

“But I bought us some time.”

The President stood up, grabbed Burton’s thick shoulders. “And in that time I know you will locate Jack Graham and persuade him that taking any action detrimental to our interests would not be in his best interests.”

“Do you want me to tell him that before or after I put a bullet in his brain?”

The President smiled grimly. “I’ll leave that to your professional judgment.” He turned to his desk.

Burton stared at the President’s back. For one instant Burton visualized pumping a round from his weapon into the base of the President’s neck. Just end the bullshit right here and now. If anyone ever deserved it this guy did.

“Any idea where he might be, Burton?”

Burton shook his head. “No, but I’ve got a pretty reliable source.” Burton didn’t mention Jack’s phone call to Seth Frank that morning. Sooner or later Jack would reveal his location to the detective. And then Burton would make his move.

Burton took a deep breath. If you loved a pressure-filled challenge it didn’t get much better than this. It was the ninth inning, the home team was up by one, there were two outs, one runner on, and a full count on the bruiser at the plate. Could Burton close it out or would they all watch as the white orb disappeared into the stands?

As Burton walked out the door, more than a small part of him hoped it was the latter.

Seth Frank was waiting at his desk, staring at the clock. As the second hand swept past the twelve the phone rang.

Jack sat in the phone booth. He thanked God it was as cold as it was outside. The heavy, hooded parka he had bought that morning fit right in with the bundled-up mass of humanity. And still he had the overwhelming impression that everyone seemed to be looking at him.

Frank picked up on the background noise. “Where the hell are you? I told you not to leave wherever you were staying.”

Jack didn’t respond right away.

“Jack?”

“Look, Seth, I’m not real good at being a sitting duck. And I’m not in a position where I can afford to completely rely on anyone. Understood?”

Frank started to make a protest, but then leaned back in his chair. The guy was right, flat-out right.

“Fair enough. Would you like to hear how they set you up?”

“I’m listening.”

“You had a glass on your desk. Apparently you were drinking something. You remember that?”

“Yeah, Coke, so what?”

“So whoever was after you ran into Lord and the woman like you said and they had to be popped. You got away. They knew the garage video would have you leaving right about the time of the deaths. They lifted your prints off the glass and transferred them to the gun.”