Read Shall We Tell the President? Online

Authors: Jeffrey Archer

Tags: #Thrillers, #Political, #Suspense, #Fiction

Shall We Tell the President? (11 page)

‘May I say something, boss?’

The Chairman looked up. Nobody spoke unless
it was relevant, most unusual for an American board meeting. The Chairman let
Matson have the floor.

‘One thing worries me, boss. Why would Nick
Stames
be going to Woodrow Wilson?’

They all stared at him, not quite sure what
he meant. ‘We know from my inquiries and my contacts that Calvert was there,
but we don’t actually know that
Stames
was there. All
we know is that two agents went and that
Stames
asked
Father Gregory to go. We know
Stames
was on his way
home with Calvert, but my experience tells me that
Stames
wouldn’t go to the hospital himself; he’d send somebody else—’

‘Even if he thought it were a serious
matter?’ interrupted the Chairman.

‘He wouldn’t know it was a serious matter,
boss. He wouldn’t have known until the agents had reported back to him.’

The Chairman shrugged. ‘The facts point to
Stames
going to the hospital with Calvert. He left the
Washington Field Office with Calvert driving the same car that left the
hospital.’

‘I know, boss, but I don’t like it; I know
that we’ve covered all the angles, but it’s possible that three or more men
left the Washington Field Office and that there is still at least one agent
running around who knows what actually happened.’

‘It seems unlikely,’ said the Senator. ‘As
you will discover when you hear my report.’

The lips compressed in the heavy jaw.

‘You’re not happy are you, Matson?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Very well, check it out. If you come up
with anything report back to me.’

The Chairman never left a stone unturned.
He looked at the Senator.

The Senator despised these men. They were
so small-minded, so greedy. They only understood money, and Kane was going to
take it away from them. How their violence had frightened and sickened him. He
should never have allowed that smooth-talking plausible bastard Nicholson to
pump so much into his secret campaign funds, although God knows he would never
have been elected without the money. Lots of money, and such a small price to
pay at the time: steadfast opposition to any gun control proposals. Hell, he
was genuinely opposed to gun control anyway. But assassinating the President to
stop the bill, by God, it was lunacy, but the Chairman had him by the balls.
‘Co-operate, or be exposed, my friend,’ he had said silkily. The Senator had
spent half a lifetime sweating to reach the Senate and what’s more, he did a
damned good job there. If they stopped him now he would be finished. A public
scandal. He couldn’t face it. ‘Co-operate, my friend, for your own good. All we
need is some inside information, and your presence at the Capitol on 10 March.
Be reasonable, my friend, why ruin your whole life for a Polish woman?’ The
Senator cleared his throat.

‘It is highly unlikely that the FBI knows
any details about our plans. As Mr Matson knows, if the Bureau had anything to
go on, any reason to think that this supposed threat is any different from a
thousand others the President has received, the Secret Service would have been
informed immediately. And my secretary has ascertained that the President’s
schedule for this week remains unchanged. All her appointments will be kept.
She will go to the Capitol on the morning of 10 March for a special address to
the Senate—’

‘But that’s exactly the point,’ Matson
interrupted with a contemptuous sneer. ‘All threats against the President:, no
matter how far-fetched, are routinely reported to the Secret Service. If they
haven’t reported anything, it must mean that—’

‘It may mean that they don’t know a thing,
Matson,’ said the Chairman firmly. ‘I told you to look into it. Now let the
Senator answer a more important question: If the FBI knew the details, would
they tell the President?’

The Senator hesitated. ‘No, I don’t think
so, or only if they were absolutely certain of danger on a particular day;
otherwise they’d go ahead as planned. If every threat or suggestion of a threat
were taken seriously, the President would never be able to leave the White
House. The Secret Service report to Congress last year showed that there were
1,572 threats against the
Presi
- dent’s life, but
thorough investigations revealed that there were no actual known attempts.’

The Chairman nodded. ‘Either they know
everything or they know nothing.’

Matson persisted. ‘I am still a member of
the Society of Former Special Agents and I attended a meeting yesterday, and no
one there knew a damn thing. Someone would have heard something by now. Later,
I had a drink with Grant
Nanna
, who was my old boss
at the Washington Field Office, and he seemed almost uninterested, which I
found strange, I thought
Stames
was a friend of his,
but I obviously couldn’t push it too far, since
Stames
was no friend of mine. I’m still worried. It doesn’t make sense that
Stames
went to the hospital and no one in the Bureau is
saying anything about his death.’

‘Okay, okay,’ said the Chairman. ‘If we don’t
get her on 10 March, we may as well quit now. We go ahead as if nothing had
happened, unless we hear any rumbles - and that’s in your hands, Matson. We’ll
be there on the day, unless you stop us. Now let’s plan ahead. First I’ll go
over Kane’s schedule for that day. Kane’ — no one in that room except for the
Senator ever called her the President - ‘leaves the White House at 10 am. She
passes the
FBI
Building
at three minutes past, she passes the
Peace
Monument
at the north-west corner of the Capitol grounds at five minutes past. She gets
out of her car at the east front of the Capitol at six minutes past. Normally,
she would go in the private entrance, but the Senator has assured us that she
will milk this visit for all it’s worth. It takes her
forty-five seconds
to walk from the car to the top of the Capitol steps. We know that
Xan
can easily complete the job in forty-five seconds. I
will be watching at the corner of
Pennsylvania
Avenue
when Kane passes the
FBI
Building
.
Tony will be there with a car
,
in case of an emergency, and the Senator
will be on the Capitol steps to stall her, if we need more time. The most
important part of the operation is
Xan’s
, which we
have worked out to a split second. So listen and listen carefully. I have
arranged for
Xan
to be on the construction crew
working on the renovation of the front of the Capitol. And, believe me, with
that union it was no mean feat to place an Oriental.
Take
over
,
Xan
.’

Xan
looked up. He had said nothing since his last invitation to speak.

‘Construction on west front of Capitol has
been going on for nearly six months. No one is more enthusiastic about it than
Kane. She wants it finished in time for her second Inaugural.’ He grinned. All
eyes were upon the little man, intent on his every word. ‘I have been part of
work force now for just over four weeks. I am in charge of checking all
supplies that come on to site, which means I am in site office. From there, it
has not been hard to discover movements of everybody connected with
construction. The guards are not from FBI, Secret Service, or from CIA, but
from Government Building Security Service. They are usually a lot older than
normal agents, often retired from one of services. There are sixteen in all,
and they work in fours on four shifts. I know where they drink, smoke, play
cards, everything; no one is very interested in site because at moment it
overlooks nothing and it’s on least-used side of Capitol. A little petty theft
from site but not much else to excite guards.’
Xan
had total silence. ‘Right in middle of site is biggest American Hoist Co crane
in world, number 11-3-10, specially designed for lifting new parts of Capitol
into place. Fully extended, it is 322 feet, almost double regulation height
allowed in
Washington
buildings. Nobody expect us on west side, and nobody figure we can see that
far. On top is small covered platform for general maintenance of pulleys, used
only when it is flat and parallel to ground, but platform becomes like a small
box in effect. It is four feet long, two feet three inches in width, and one
foot five inches in height. I have slept there for last three nights. I see
everything, no one can see me, not even White House helicopter.’

There was a stunned silence.

‘How do you get up there?’ asked the
Senator.

‘Like cat, Senator. I climb. An advantage
of being very small. I go up just after midnight and come down at five. I
overlook all
Washington
and no one see me.’

‘Do you have a good view of the Capitol
steps from such a small platform?’ asked the Chairman.


Perhaps
it
will take four seconds,’
Xan
replied. ‘View allows me
to see White House as no one has ever seen it. I could have killed Kane twice
last week. When she make official visits, it will be easy. I can’t miss—’

‘What about the other workers on Thursday?
They may want to use the crane,’ the Senator interrupted.

This time the Chairman smiled. ‘There will
be a strike next Thursday, my friend. Something to do with unfair rates for
overtime, no work while Kane is visiting the Capitol to emphasise their point.
One thing is certain, with no one on the site other than some ageing guards,
nobody will be eager to climb to the top of a crane that is all but open to the
world. From the ground it doesn’t look as if a mouse could hide up there, let
alone a human being.’ The Chairman paused. ‘
Xan
flies
to
Vienna
tomorrow and will be back in time to report the results of his trip at our
final meeting next Wednesday. By the way,
Xan
, have
you got
your
can of yellow paint?’

‘Yes, stole one from site.’

The Chairman looked around the table -
silence. ‘Good, we seem to be well organised. Thank you,
Xan
.’

‘I don’t like it,’ mumbled Matson.
‘Something’s wrong. It’s all too easy, it’s all too clever.’

‘The FBI has taught you to be overly
suspicious, Matson. You’ll discover that we’re better prepared than they are,
because we know what we’re going to do and they don’t. Fear not, you’ll be able
to attend Kane’s funeral.’

Matson’s big chin moved up and down.
‘You’re the guy that wants her dead,’ he said sourly.

‘And you’re being paid to see it happens,’
said the Chairman. ‘Right, we meet again in five days to go over the final
plan. You will be told where to report on Wednesday morning.
Xan
will have returned from
Austria
long before then.’

The Chairman smiled and lit another
cigarette. The Senator slipped out. Five minutes later, Matson left. Five
minutes later, Tony left. Five minutes later,
Xan
left. Five minutes later, the Chairman ordered lunch.

Friday afternoon, 4 March

4:00 pm Mark was too hungry to work
efficiently any longer, so he left the Library in search of some food. When the
elevator stopped, the opening doors provided a view of the card catalogue:
‘Harrison-Health’ confronted him. Some subconscious word association triggered
in his mind the welcome vision of the beautiful, witty girl he had met the
previous day, walking along the corridor in her black skirt and red shirt,
heels tapping on the tiles. A big grin spread across Mark’s face. It was
amazing the pleasure it gave him just to know he could call her and rearrange
the date, unusual for him to find just how much he wanted to.

Mark found the snack bar and munched his
way through a hamburger, letting his mind recall all the things she had said,
and the way she had looked while she was saying them. He decided to call
Woodrow Wilson.

‘I’m sorry, Dr Dexter is not on duty
today,’ said a nurse. ‘Can Dr Delgado help?’

‘No thank you,’ said Mark. ‘I’m afraid she
can’t.’

He took out his diary, and dialled
Elizabeth Dexter’s home number. He was delighted to find her in.

‘Hello,
Elizabeth
. It’s Mark Andrews. Any hope of
giving you dinner tonight?’

‘Promises, promises. I continue to live in
the hope of a real meal.’

‘Not a laughing matter,’ said Mark, almost
to himself.

‘You sound a bit low, Mark. Perhaps you
really do have a touch of flu.’

‘No, I don’t think it’s flu, just thinking
of you makes it hard to breathe. I’d better hang up now, before I turn blue.’

It was good to hear her laugh.

‘Why don’t you come by about eight?’

‘Fine. See you around eight,
Elizabeth
.’

‘Take care, Mark.’

He put the telephone down, suddenly
conscious that once again he was smiling from ear to ear. He glanced at his
watch: 4:30. Good. Three more hours in the Library, then he could go in pursuit
of her. He returned to his reference books and continued to make biographical
notes on the sixty-two senators.

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