"Capital Crimes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Woods Stuart)

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WILL WAS IN HIS LITTLE STUDY off the Oval Office at eight-thirty, and his secretary, a tall, thin African-American woman named Cora Parker, was waiting with his schedule and a number of other items.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” she said, taking a seat next to his desk and setting the folder on his desk.

“Good morning, Cora,” Will replied. “There’s some news: I just learned that Senator Freddie Wallace was shot around dawn this morning. He died instantly.”

“Oh, my God,” Cora said, putting a hand to her mouth.

Since nothing ever fazed Cora, Will looked at her closely. “I know you’re from South Carolina, but I wouldn’t have thought that Freddie’s death would upset you all that much.”

“No, sir, it doesn’t, exactly,” Cora replied. “I was just thinking about-”

“Cora, do you know about the senator’s friend?”

“What friend would that be, sit?”

“The lady friend.”

She sighed. “Yes, sir, I know. I’m from Columbia, but I’ve got a first cousin who lives in Chester, and she and the lady are friends. That’s how I know her.”

“What’s the lady’s name?” he asked.

“Elizabeth Johnson. She’s a widow.”

“And they had two sons together, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir, George and Johnny, named after her two brothers. Her last name is House, Elizabeth ’s maiden name.”

“Do the boys know who their father is?”

“I believe they do,” Cora replied.

“Is there anything else I should know about all this, just to keep from putting my foot in it?”

“Not that I can think of, Mr. President. Do they know who shot him?”

“No, not yet. This isn’t going to be announced until around noon today, so keep it to yourself until you hear it on the news.”

“Can I call Elizabeth?”

“Not on a White House phone,” Will said. “We don’t want that call logged, and don’t use your staff cell phone, either. Wait until you can get to a phone outside somewhere.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, I spoke to Mrs. Wallace a few minutes ago. She wants two funerals, one here and one in Chester. She wants me to give the eulogy at the one here, in the National Cathedral.”

Cora produced a leather-bound diary. “When, sir?”

“She wants it on Wednesday. Do we have anything that can’t be canceled that morning?”

Cora consulted the diary. “Nothing I can’t move around, sir.”

“Coordinate that with the appointments secretary, then call Mrs. Wallace and confirm a time with her and let the Secret Service know about it.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”

“We’ll talk after my national security briefing,” Will said. He went through his day’s schedule, made a few phone calls, then got up and went into the Oval Office. Everyone present stood.

“Please be seated,” he said, looking around. He saw his wife, representing the CIA; the director of the FBI, James Heller; the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Marvin Moore; his National Security Advisor, Alice Ramirez; and the vice president, Howard Kiel. Other presidents had been briefed by one agency at a tune, but Will preferred having them all in the same room at the same time, since it promoted interagency information sharing. “Good morning to you all,” he said.

There was a murmur of greetings in response.

“Let’s get started. General Moore?”

The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff leaned forward in his seat. “Mr. President, it was a fairly quiet night. We have a helicopter down in Afghanistan, but it looks like mechanical problems. One injured, none dead. The chopper is being repaired. Nothing else of note.”

“Thank you, General.” Will went from person to person until everyone had reported. “Thank you, all. Jim, would you and Kate stay?”

The FBI director kept his seat, and so did Kate.

When the others had cleared the room, Will spoke again. “Jim, Senator Wallace of South Carolina was murdered this morning in Chester, South Carolina.”

“What?” the director asked, looking alarmed.

Heller always said “What?” to anything; put to him. Will let it sink in. “Get in touch with the local sheriff down there, Tom Stribling, and get some of your people up there from Columbia or Atlanta, or wherever’s closest, and start an investigation.”

“Mr. President, murder is not a federal crime,” Heller said.

Will sighed. He had inherited Heller from the previous administration, and he found him barely competent and, sometimes, a little dense. He had not replaced him on taking office, because he felt that the position of FBI director should not be a political appointment, subject to change with every administration. But now, having worked with the man for a year and a half, he had decided to replace him at the first reasonable opportunity. “Murder of a federal official is a federal crime,” he said, trying not to sound impatient.

“Oh, of course,” Heller said, turning a little pink. “Any details?”

“The sheriff will have them. All I know is that he was shot and killed instantly.”

“Any suspects?”

“Jim, I don’t know. Ask the sheriff. Kate, do you have any information that might be useful to the director?”

“I’ll check with my staff when I get to Langley, Mr. President,” she said. She always addressed him formally when doing government business in the company of others.

“I think we’re done, then,” Will said.

“Mr. President, may I have a moment?” Kate asked.

“Of course. Goodbye, Jim. Brief me personally when you have a grip on the Wallace murder.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” the director said. He got up and left.

Will went and sat by Kate. “Are you going to tell Heller about Freddie’s little indiscretion?”

“I don’t think so, unless it turns out later to have some relevance to his murder,” she said.

“I think that’s just as well.”

“However, the indiscretion reminds me of something that you and I should discuss.”

“Shoot.”

“I expect you remember Ed Rawls.”

“I believe I do,” Will said dryly. Ed Rawls was a disgraced former CIA operations officer, who had sold information to the Russians a few years back. He had been one of the Agency’s top operatives and Kate’s mentor there, until, largely through her efforts, he had been exposed, tried, and convicted. He was now doing twenty-five years to life at the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.

“I have a lot to tell you about Ed Rawls-things I had hoped you wouldn’t have to know. Freddie’s death has dredged it up.”

“You sound as though I’m not going to like this,” Will said.

“You’re not,” Kate replied. “”Neither do I. But it’s time you knew.“