Capitol Conspiracy (33 page)

56

U.S. S
ENATE
, R
USSELL
B
UILDING
,
O
FFICE
S-212-D
W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.

B
en gazed, partly amused, partly dumbfounded, at the festive decor that had graced his office while he was out. Banners and crepe paper chains festooned the walls. Streamers dripped from the ceiling. A champagne station stood where there was normally a sofa. There were snacks of all kinds, healthy and not, and the guests included not only senators and their spouses but virtually everyone Ben could think of who had any connection to the proposed amendment—who was still speaking to him.

As always, Christina did excellent work.

“Impressive,” Ben said as he admired the redecorated office. “But this is a party. Shouldn’t it be a funeral?”

Christina arched an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”

“The amendment died.”

“Yes, but the country survived.”

Ben was impressed by the wide array of visitors Christina had ensnared—not only a dozen members of the Senate, but people from the House, the Secret Service, Homeland Security, the FBI, the NSA—and a lot of people Ben couldn’t place because he had no idea who they were.

“What did you do?” Ben asked. “Promise them my vote?”

“I’m not sure how many people that would bring in,” Christina said evenly, “but the free champagne worked wonders. Truth is, after the ordeal of these past few weeks, I think most everyone was looking for a place to blow off steam. Some people, of course, have families and spouses to handle that sort of thing. The rest are here.”

“Any chance the president will be dropping by?”

Christina squirmed. “Well, under the circumstances…I think it’s unlikely.”

“You tried, didn’t you?”

She grinned sheepishly. “His secretary indicated that he wasn’t taking your calls. Ever.”

Ben sighed. “Well. That’s politics. Is Loving here?”

Christina shook her head. “I forced him to go to the hospital. Against his will, natch. He acts as if he’s fine. But I think his…experiences with the General really shook him up.”

“Are his wounds healing?”

“Yes. I was actually more concerned about…his mental state. He went through a lot. Sounded horrible—and I’m betting he didn’t tell me everything.”

“He’ll bounce back. He always does.”

Christina’s eyes lowered. “I hope so,” she said quietly.

Ben had thought he was staying well on the sidelines, out of the general view, but that didn’t prevent the new minority leader, Nancy Caldwell, from tracking him down.

“Ben, please—don’t tease me any longer.”

As Ben gazed at the attractive blond senator from Vermont, he was very aware of Christina’s eyes bearing down on him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I’m talking about this protracted dithering about whether you’re going to run for reelection. Surely now you realize that you have no choice.”

The heat radiating from Christina’s eyes intensified. “Oh, I’m fairly sure I have a choice.”

“No, you don’t. Ben, we need you. We only have a hairsbreadth plurality. We can’t afford to give a seat away.”

“You don’t know that I would win. I think I’d be a terrible campaigner. I know I’d hate it.”

“I’m not sure you’d have to do anything. Your approval ratings are off the charts. The folks back home seem to think you’re some sort of hero—and I’m not just talking about Oklahoma, either.”

“People have short memories.”

“True enough. But look what you’ve managed to do in a short period of time. You’re one of our party’s top leaders.”

“Oh, hardly that.”

“You’ve led two major political initiatives.”

“Yes, and both times on the side of the Republicans.”

“Which proves you’re a centrist. Very good campaign fodder.”

“And the proposed amendment failed.”

“Because you wanted it to.”

“I don’t think I’m the only person in the Senate who was having doubts. Many were probably looking for a good excuse to change their minds. And I gave it to them.”

“Put it any way you like—you turned the tide.” She stepped closer. “Seriously, Ben—we need you. The party needs you. The country needs you. But if you’re not going to run, we should start grooming an alternative. When can I expect an answer?”

Ben glanced at Christina. “You’ll know something…just as soon as I do.”

Caldwell nodded, then quickly ducked close to Christina’s ear. She whispered, but not so softly that Ben couldn’t hear, “Spouses sometimes have a little influence. Talk him into it. He could make a real difference.”

Christina smiled. “No promises. But we’ll talk about it.”

Caldwell drifted toward the champagne. A few minutes later, Ben spotted Secret Service Agent Max Zimmer entering with Deputy Director Nichole Muldoon.

“The hero of the Baltimore affair,” Ben noted quietly. “Are they dating?”

“Haven’t heard,” Christina replied.

Which Ben assumed meant they were not. “Just as well. She’s technically his boss, isn’t she?”

“Technically. Of course, Lehman runs the show. Now that he’s out of the hospital.”

The two approached Ben, smiling. Zimmer’s face was still bruised a dark purple in several places. Collateral damage from stopping an assassin, Ben assumed.

“Senator Kincaid,” Zimmer said, nodding. “I want to congratulate you on that fine speech you made in the Senate.”

“Were you there?”

“No, but they’ve been playing it over and over again on all the cable news stations. Practically a repeating loop. You’re getting tons of publicity, all of it good.”

“Well…”

“I for one am glad the amendment is dead and buried.”

“That goes for me, too,” Muldoon echoed. “So congratulations.”

“I think I should be congratulating you, Max,” Ben replied. “You saved the day in Baltimore.”

“We did our jobs. We were ready for him.”

Muldoon explained, “When we realized we couldn’t talk the president out of this foolhardy appearance, we decided to use it to flush out the killer. We left a path open for him—then closed it up behind him as soon as he went into action.” She paused. “That man was just as smart as he was deadly. He always seemed to be one step ahead of us. Always knew what we were doing before we did. Always had a contingency. Like that little trick with the hidden floor panel.”

“I didn’t, obviously,” Zimmer said, chuckling. “If Deputy Director Muldoon hadn’t been watching, and Director Lehman hadn’t intervened, I’d be so much oatmeal.” He looked at her with an expression that Ben thought expressed more than mere thanks. “Thank God you two were there.”

“I’d like to echo that sentiment, if I may.”

Ben turned and saw FBI Agent Joel Salter approaching.

Muldoon arched an eyebrow. “Now this is a surprise.”

“No doubt, given the sulky, petulant way I’ve been acting ever since I got the Homeland Security liaison detail.”

“Oh, you exaggerate.”

“No, I’ve been petty and small and stupid. To be honest—you intimidate me, Nichole. More than just a little.”

She pressed a hand against her ample bosom. “Who, me?”

“Yeah, you. I may be stupid—but I’m not blind. In Baltimore, you showed me what you really are—a hero. If you don’t mind, I’d like to shake your hand.”

“I would be honored,” Muldoon said, extending hers.

“The honor is mine.”

Something was bothering Ben as he observed this moment of reconciliation. Something that he had heard since he left the Senate chamber, or seen, or—

Something. But he couldn’t place it. He’d had this sensation before: the nagging feeling that there was something he was missing, something on the tip of his brain that he just hadn’t processed yet. It was irritating, not only because it reminded him how slow-witted he could be, but because he knew he would obsess over it for hours on end until—

Until he remembered.

“Oh my God,” he said sotto voce. “Oh no.”

Christina laid a hand on his arm. “What is it?”

Ben’s face went white. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. I think we all have.”

“Ben, what are you talking about?”

Without explanation, Ben moved toward the door. “Thanks for the party, Chris—but I’ve got to get out of here.”

Christina dogged his heels. “To go where?”

“To have a little talk with the director of Homeland Security.”

“I’m not sure he’ll see you.”

“I don’t plan to give him any choice. He’s got some serious explaining to do.”

“Ben, the amendment controversy is over. It’s dead and buried.”

“This has nothing to do with the amendment.” He threw on his jacket. “This has to do with murder.”

“Ben, what’s going on?”

“No time to explain.” He kissed her on the cheek, then raced out the door.

“Ben, don’t you dare run off without telling me—”

But before she could even finish the threat, he was across the hallway and down the stairs.

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath. She walked angrily back to the party. “I hate it when he does that.”

57

D
EPARTMENT OF
H
OMELAND
S
ECURITY
O
FFICE OF THE
D
IRECTOR
W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.

“T
hank you for seeing me,” Ben said as he entered Carl Lehman’s office. “I appreciate it. I…wasn’t sure what to expect.”

Lehman stood and shook his hand. His face was bandaged and bruised, but mostly functional. “I’m not one to hold grudges, son. The amendment is dead. Time to move on.”

“That…wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

“Oh?” He pointed to a nearby chair. “Please take a seat.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind. I think better on my feet.” Which was true, he had learned over the years. And right now, he really needed to be able to think.

“What’s the problem?”

“My problem is…” Ben took a deep breath. “I saw your assistant, Nichole Muldoon, a little while ago.”

“Why is that a problem? She give you one of those patented I-can-see-through-your-clothes looks of hers?”

“No. But she said something. She reminded me how much inside information the sniper seemed to have, during both attacks. Even if you assume he tortured some information out of your predecessor, he was still uncommonly knowledgeable about Secret Service procedures. Who would be doing what and when. Where the security detail would be stationed. How to find the sniper nest he eliminated. How to plan an escape route. We’ve always said he needed inside information.”

“He was working with Senator DeMouy.”

“And I’m sure that was helpful, but in the end, I don’t think the assistance of a politician would cut it. He had access to information he could only have gotten from someone working in or with the Secret Service. That’s the only way he could have gotten as far as he did.”

Lehman leaned slowly forward. “What are you saying?”

Ben began to pace. “I’ve always been troubled by the suggestion that Senator DeMouy masterminded the attacks. Did he really have the know-how? Would his co-conspirators have continued with the plan after his death? Doesn’t make any sense. And to imagine that he did all this just to position himself for the White House? Troubling.”

Lehman batted his lips with his index finger. “I’ll admit, I’ve had difficulty with that part of it myself. But I assumed there was more to it that we hadn’t uncovered yet.”

“Did you?” Ben asked, staring at him intently. “Did you really?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

This was where it was likely to get sticky. In Ben’s experience, people rarely liked being accused of murder. Especially if they were guilty.

“If this wasn’t about stacking the deck at the next presidential election, what was it about? Wanton violence? Seems too well planned. Regime change? Nah. Grudge against Emily Blake? I considered that, especially when I learned what everyone else in Washington apparently already knew, that she was having an affair. But I couldn’t believe anyone would arrange a major assassination attempt and kill all those people just to eliminate the first lady. The person who orchestrated the attacks in Oklahoma City and Baltimore was seriously trying to stir up terror—to make the American people feel weak and poorly defended. Vulnerable.”

Lehman was squinting, as if his difficulty understanding translated into difficulty seeing. “Who would want to do that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“The only person who would benefit from instilling terror—is someone who really wanted that constitutional amendment to pass.”

If Ben were hoping for a big reaction, or perhaps a confession, he was disappointed. “Nah,” Lehman said succinctly.

“Excuse me?”

Lehman shrugged. “Doesn’t make any sense. Don’t you remember? The president didn’t propose the amendment until after Oklahoma City.”

“That doesn’t mean someone couldn’t have already dreamed it up. And staged Oklahoma City to get it on the agenda and to ensure its passage.”

“But who would do such a thing?”

“Who benefits most?” Ben said. He stopped pacing and hovered over Lehman’s desk. “I would say the person who becomes the chair of the Emergency Council. The person who leads the small committee that has the ability to give and take fundamental human rights as they unilaterally see fit.” Ben paused. “And that would be the director of Homeland Security. You.”

Lehman went bug-eyed. “Are you kidding? Me?”

“What’s so incredible? You have the experience, the knowledge. The inside information.”

“I’ve been a devoted public servant for more than three decades. I’ve given my entire life to law enforcement.”

“And no doubt have been frustrated by what you perceived as law enforcement’s inadequate powers.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” Ben leaned closer. “I’m remembering something the president told me. After April nineteenth, he was obviously in a state of shock from having lost his wife in such a violent manner. He was very subject to influence. Malleable. An easy target for someone with a private agenda. And he told me that the idea for the proposed amendment had actually come—from you.”

Lehman raised his head. “That’s true….”

“This whole thing has been an insane power grab concocted in your sick mind to—”

“…but the idea didn’t originate with me.”

Ben stopped short. “It didn’t?”

“No. It was suggested to me.” He drew himself up. “And I think I can prove it.”