Four members of one crew were being held in Baghdad. Their beaten faces had appeared on international television as did their statements condemning the unjustified aggression of the American imperialists. Family members and anti-war groups demanded that President Tufts do something, anything, to bring them home.
An American buildup was underway in southern Saudi Arabia with the eager support of a newly compliant Saudi king supported by the British and with reluctance by the French. No military action was anticipated before fall, when the desert heat abated. Or so the newspapers had been saying these last months.
On the second leg of his flight to Washington D.C., Powers read that according to unnamed intelligence sources it was likely Saddam, who had been blustering about his nuclear capability, in fact possessed at least two nuclear bombs, "devices" had been the word, bought from rogue military elements in Turkmenistan, a predominantly Muslim portion of the former Soviet Union.
If attacked, Saddam vowed to "unleash the fires of Allah" on the infidel and claimed several nuclear bombs were buried in the strata that held the ocean of oil beneath the fields he occupied. He vowed to destroy those fields and so contaminate them with radioactivity. The oil of Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Iran, who all drew from the same vast reservoir, would be unusable for a 1,000 years. He would also launch his nuclear weapons against the American forces.
Oil and gasoline prices were stable since there had been an abundance of reserves when the Iraqi attack had come and the other oil producing nations were pumping at maximum capability. But gas lines were expected if there was no resolution of the crisis by year's end and there was likely to be a heating fuel shortage this winter. Now Saddam was escalating the war of wills by threatening massive SCUD missile attacks against Israel unless the United Nations recognized his legitimate rights to the land Iraq now occupied. It was, Powers thought again, a peculiar time to be summoned to the White House.
The door opened and the First Lady entered, smiling warmly as she closed the door quietly by leaning back against it. "Hello, Danny," she said almost demurely.
Powers rose. "Hello, Becky. It's been awhile."
"Too long." She crossed the room to him and took his hands. "Well, don't just stand there. Give me a kiss." They embraced briefly like fond cousins and Powers kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I remember when you used to really kiss me," she said teasingly.
"So do I, but you're a married woman now."
Becky laughed. Her eyes were slightly red as if she had been crying. And through the perfume Powers smelled cigarette smoke. That was peculiar, he thought, since Becky was de facto head of the national movement for a tobacco free America. The newspapers regularly reported no one was allowed to smoke in the White House.
The First Lady pulled around the matching leather chair in front of her desk so she was facing Powers then sat. "You're very handsome in your blue suit. You always were the best looking man I ever knew.”
“I blame it on my genes."
"I was sorry to hear about your wife. Gloria, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"And your son. What a tragedy. I only met them that one time but they were lovely. You made a wonderful family."
"Thank you. I miss them both."
"How are you? Mom said you'd moved back home after the fire and seemed out of sorts. You retired, didn't you?"
"Yes. I had 23 years in. After Gloria and Brian were killed I couldn't remain in St. Louis any longer and my heart wasn't in police work. So I went home. I'm living in the house my parents bought after they sold the garage. It's on Second Street."
"Mayberry."
"Excuse me?"
"That's what I call Shalom. Mayberry, R.F.D."
Powers smiled warmly. "It's not exactly Mayberry, but almost. Nothing much ever changes. Except for the mill closing, of course. I should be giving you condolences. I haven't seen you since your father passed away. I know how close you two were."
"Thanks. At least he lived long enough to see me in the White House. Imagine that. Little ol' Becky Gordon from Shalom, Missouri, First Lady." She grinned as if she couldn't quite believe it.
"According to the signs outside of town, Shalom is home to the 'World's First Lady.'”
Shalom, population 19,000, was located on the south bank of the Gasconade River between the Springfield and Salem Plateaus in rural southern Missouri. Since Richard Tufts' election to President and the elevation of the local former homecoming queen to First Lady two immense signs had been erected on the outskirts, proclaiming the community's pride in its native daughter.
Becky rose and moved behind her desk where she opened a drawer. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes then lit up. "A secret, okay?"
"Sure." Powers held a poker face.
"I know. I'm a hypocrite. I've quit a hundred times. I did real good there for a while but these last few months..."
"I can understand that. It took me three times to finally stop for good. You two have been under a lot of pressure lately."
Becky laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes heavenward. "You don't know the half of it." She smoked for a time, not looking directly at him, one arm crossed under her breasts supporting the elbow of the other. She put the cigarette out. "This is hard," she said finally as if she had rejected a dozen approaches in the last minute. "I have to tell you things I've never told anyone. Things that won't make me seem very nice I'm afraid."
"We're both adults."
"So I keep hearing." She gave him a strange look. "When I told you this morning that you couldn't tell anyone you had talked to me or that you were coming here, I said it was important. Did you do as I asked?"
"Yes."
"You paid cash for the ticket?"
"Yes.”
“I'll get money for you later so you don't use an ATM."
"Forget the money. I'm glad to see you. And be of help if that's what this is about."
She looked tentative. "It is. And you'll need to use more money so I'm not taking no for an answer in that regard. We'll get to that later." She drew a deep breath then let it out slowly as she sat facing him, looking every day her age. "How much do you know about me, since I left Shalom, I mean?" she asked quietly. "We've seen each other since then, what? Three times?"
"Twice. Once not long after your husband was first elected governor. Your father held a party when you two came to town and I was invited. You and I shared a glass of champagne though I never did meet your husband. The last time was nearly four years ago, just after the presidential election. I was visiting my parents while you were seeing yours and you invited me to bring my family by the house to meet."
"That's right. I remember. Now tell me what you know about me since high school."
"You went to Radcliffe. I was at Webster College, then the service, then back to Webster. You attended Harvard Law School then worked for the A.C.L.U. You married Richard Tufts and we were all surprised when you moved South with him. He was the second youngest governor ever elected. And you were an important part of his success. He came out of nowhere to win the Presidency. You've been active. You lead the effort to reform campaign financing." He stopped. Her recommendation for an expanded negative income tax which would assure every American a guaranteed annual income above subsistence had been a disaster of sizeable proportions for the Administration, and since before the re-election campaigning had begun, the public had seen very little of Becky Tufts.
"It's okay. You can't succeed at everything. It was the country's loss, not mine. Go ahead.”
“That's about it. No children. You're the most popular, or controversial, First Lady since Eleanor Roosevelt and either way are credited with redefining the role of the President's wife. You've come a long way since Shalom. We're all very proud of you."
"You're leaving out things. Be candid now."
Powers paused. "If that's what you want. You're under investigation by a special prosecutor for fraud, something to do with state bonds and arbitrage. It's mostly been a political issue
until now but many columnists are saying you'll be indicted after the election."
She flinched at that. "What else?"
"There's your husband."
"What about him?"
"I don't need to say it."
"That he's a womanizer? No, you don't. You just need to hear me say that it's true. Much worse than the stories you've read." She put out her cigarette. "You understand I'm trusting you here, Danny. Trusting you like I've never trusted anyone in my life."
"No one is perfect, Becky. None of us, I suspect, is ever the kind of adult we thought we'd be as children."
"Is that ever true," she said bitterly as she reached over and drew the pack of cigarettes to her then lighting another. "Do you remember the floating dock at Lake Taneycomo?"
"Of course." The image that flashed before him was not the lake, but the first time he'd seen her naked. It was etched in his memory like a subtle Rembrandt hanging in his living room.
“When we first went up there after school was out, the water was so cold, but none of us would stay out of it. We'd swim to the dock then lay in the sun, goose bumps all over, freezing until the sun warmed us. If it was windy we'd have to swim back to shore and wrap ourselves in towels."
Powers recalled in a single instant the hot Missouri summers on the plateau, the cold of the pines near the lake and that first touch of ice cold water. "We were just kids."
"Yeah. Kids." She was stalling again. "You had a good marriage, didn't you?"
"I'd say so."
"Did you ever cheat on her?" she asked abruptly.
Powers considered lying for an instant but something told him she was about to lay her soul bare. "Once. She was pregnant. I was in uniform then. We had our groupies I guess you'd call them. It was just the one time."
Her look said she was disappointed in him and he felt ashamed. "Did you tell her?"
"No. It seemed bad enough I had done it without making it any worse. What could she do but be hurt by it? I just made up my mind never to do anything like that again."
Her cigarette occupied her for a long minute. "My husband cheats," she said quietly. "I think he cheated on our honeymoon if you can believe that. He cheats all the time, everywhere he can. He's very ingenious about it. We haven't slept together in six years."
"That's his loss."
Her lips turned upward in a light, grateful smile. "You're sweet. But then you'd know, wouldn't you?"
"Like I said. We were just kids."
"Old enough."
"I guess. At least we believed we were. Why do you put up with it? You deserve better.”
She looked very vulnerable. "Thanks for that. It's no secret. My career is his career. The reality is that I can do more for people with us in public office than I ever could as a lawyer. I compromised. I guess we all do eventually, one way or another." There was a long pause while she smoked some more.
"Is that what this is about? You husband's infidelities?"
"Yes. He's got girls on staff he sees and when he's on the road his people line other eager women up for him. He's generally very good about picking women who don't talk. I'll give him that. For two years now he's had a girlfriend locally. She's a stewardess with Air France and lives in Georgetown. Her name's Julie Marei."
"And you fear she's going to talk during the campaign?"
Her right eyebrow arched, the one over the grey eye. "You might say that." Her gaze glanced off his eyes like a ricochet.
"You must have people who handle situations like this."
"If we hadn't we'd never have been elected President. But there's more to this than simple damage control." She took a long pull on the cigarette like a college student inhaling marijuana. The smoke swirled around her lips as she spoke. "She has tapes of them doing it."
"I see.”
“Yes, indeed. A tape was delivered to me this morning with a note. On the tape my husband also says things about politics that would be very damaging to him. That single tape would end our re-election bid. She demands half a million dollars for her silence and the other tapes. I need someone I can trust implicitly to negotiate with her and get every one of those tapes back. More than the money, I have to know we have every one of them and that there are no copies." She spoke like someone in a very tight box.
"That's why I'm here? You want me to see this Marei woman, agree to the deal, deliver the money and recover the tapes. That's all of it?"
"That's enough, believe me. The money isn't important. It's her silence I need, but most of all I must have the tapes. I need it done tonight, if at all possible. This can't last into the convention. I couldn't bear it. The longer this takes the greater the chance for disclosure. I'll be in New York on Tuesday and again on Thursday, but I'm commuting rather than remaining there. We have a great deal to do these next days. They are critical to the campaign. I've got to have this behind us."
"I can see that, but I couldn't be entirely certain there were no copies. She could lie."
"You know people. You were a detective for over 20 years. You'd know if she was lying, wouldn't you?"
"Probably. But I'd hate to tell you I had everything and then be wrong."
"If you did say you had them all I'd know the odds were you were right. That's a lot better position than the one I'm in now."
"Is this woman in town?"
"I don't know but I assume she is. Before you leave, my assistant will give you her address and cash for expenses. I want no record of your being here, in case some part of this gets out later. It will make denial a lot easier. You'll see Alta in a few minutes. She's absolutely trustworthy and can help you." She stared dead on into his eyes searching for a commitment. "Will you do it for me?"
"Of course."
"That's a relief.”
I should see the note."
"I tore it into a dozen pieces and flushed it. I guess that was stupid, but I was really upset."
"I should also talk with your husband. He knows I'm doing this, doesn't he?"
"Yes. We just... spoke... about it. Is it really necessary for you to see him?"
"I need to know about her, about their relationship. If his women generally can be trusted, why can't this one? The more information I have the smoother this whole business will go. I should understand the woman as much as possible in case this proves not to be simple."
Fear crossed her face for moment. "That make sense. He's in a meeting but I'll pull him out." She rose and ran the palms of her hands along her thighs, straightening her skirt as she did. "This way." She glanced at Powers over her shoulder as they walked to the door and said, "You can wait in the Oval Office." She smiled grimly but with an air of irony. "That's where they plotted Watergate, you know."
THREE
The West Wing, 7:33 p.m.
The President's office was larger than Powers expected. He had seen it depicted in films and photographs but the reality was much more impressive. Weaved into the ocean blue carpet was the seal of the President of the United States. Former presidents, including Lincoln and Washington, stared down from oil portraits. The Oval Office emitted a subtle aura of power and tradition. Exactly what it was designed for, Powers considered. He sat alone in one of the straight back chairs for long minutes then moved to examine the odd glass in the windows behind the President’s desk. They appeared to have a vaguely greenish hue but he couldn't be certain if it wasn't just the fading daylight from outside. He was momentarily surprised to see the panes were nearly six inches thick. The glass would probably stop an anti-tank rocket, he thought before returning to his seat.
It was over half an hour before the door burst open and President Tufts entered with a flourish, the familiar expression of concern fixed on his face. He was taller than Powers expected, bigger overall, but it was that soft flesh the clumsy kids at school had been wrapped in, the ones who hoped to make the football team but didn't have the coordination, strength or guts for it. The ones who cried when they were hit.
The President extended his hand
. "Danny Powers. It's good to meet you at last." His mellow, Yale trained voice bore only the faintest trace of his Southern origins and radiated sincerity. Powers had heard him on the campaign trail. The farther south of the Mason-Dixon line he traveled the more the product of his advance education was replaced by the good ol' boy drawl of his native state. "Becky has spoken of you often over the years. We're deeply grateful for your help."
The clasp was surprisingly soft. Powers supposed if he had shaken as many hands as this man he'd have a light touch as well. "The pleasure's mine, sir. I'm sorry to have interrupted you and wouldn't have if your wife hadn't impressed on me the need for urgency. I know you've got important matters on your mind."
The President took a seat on a couch and gestured for Powers to sit across the long glass topped coffee table from him. "I placed a meeting of the National Security Council on hold to speak with you. I drew a lot of dirty stares I can tell you, and we don't have long." He suddenly appeared older than his years. "There's a lot about this job the public doesn't understand. The pressures are incredible. I don't think it's an overstatement to say that tens of thousands, very likely millions, of lives are at stake in the Gulf. The decisions we reach tonight and in the next week or two will be critical for the security not just of the United States but of the world. This crisis isn't about the price of oil. I wish it were that simple. No, it's about... Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind. You're not here to listen to a lecture." Then Tufts flashed a boyish grin. "I talk too much anyway."
It was impressive, Powers had to admit. The man oozed authority and self-confidence. Yet at the same time he also made you want to pop open a brew, plant your feet on a porch rail and shoot the breeze.
"I need to talk to you about Julie Marei."
"So I understand. I guess I was leading up to that when I talked about the pressures of this job. We all need releases. As a man, I know you can understand that. Becky says I should talk to you in confidence and that's what I intend to do. I've bent the Sixth Commandment in my time. Haven't we all? But it's never meant anything. It was just a way to relax, to escape the burdens of this office. You can understand that I hope."
Shadows and Lies Page 2
