The Twentieth Day of January

by Ted Allbeury

  She turned back to look at MacKay as the door closed.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to come back to Washington with me. See your husband. Show him Dempsey’s statement, Kleppe’s statement and the summary. Convince him that if he doesn’t resign he’s finished. Politically and privately. And that for the country it would be absolute disaster.”

  “When?” She whispered.

  “Tonight. We’ll go by helicopter straight to Washington.”

  She shook her head. “It’s incredible. It’s like some terrible nightmare.” She sighed. “I’ll tell Dad that it’s to do with the inauguration. He can look after Sammy.” She turned and rested her hand on his arm. “It is all true, isn’t it? It’s not some terrible plot?”

  “No. It’s true, I’m afraid. Don’t hurry.”

  Half an hour later she was ready, with a small case and list of instructions for her father. MacKay took the list and wrote out a telephone number and handed it to the old man.

  “If you need to contact Mrs. Powell, sir, just get that number and ask for me. James MacKay. Don’t hesitate to phone if you need to. It won’t be more than a couple of days.”

  She kissed the old man and turned to wave as they walked down the drive. The snow was thick and there was plenty more to come.

  The car slid and lurched as they set off for the airport and MacKay prayed that nothing would happen to change her mind.

  The snow-ploughs were working on the main runway and the chopper was nowhere in sight. A yellow truck came from the terminal building and turned in front of them and led them through caverns of snow to the far perimeter. The Cessna was there and its cabin lights were on. As MacKay pulled up a man stamped over and opened the door.

  “Instructions from Langley, sir. You’re to go in the Cessna to Floyd Bennett and the Navy will take you in one of their big choppers. It’s a virtual blizzard.”

  The Navy gave them coffee and sandwiches at Floyd Bennett and then they walked across to the big Navy helicopter.

  Two ratings were holding the metal steps and one of the crew reached down for Laura Powell. The captain came back to speak to them both.

  “It’s gonna take us quite a time and I may have to land once or twice to check things out. That’ll be at Trenton, Philly and maybe Baltimore. I’ll keep you informed.” He looked at MacKay. “We’ve got a radio net to Langley. I think they’d like to talk with you if you’d come forward, sir.”

  The big curved door closed as MacKay went through, and the long shadows of the rotor blades flickered across the snow. The radio operator pointed to a metal seat and leaned forward to turn a dial. He took off the headset and passed it to MacKay.

  “They’re on. A guy named Harper.”

  The voice was faint at the other end, the signal surging from loud to zero.

  “MacKay. Can you hear me, MacKay?”

  “Yes. I hear you.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Everything as arranged.”

  “When do you arrive?”

  “Nobody knows. It’s the weather. It’ll be five or six hours.”

  “Anything you want me to do?”

  “Yes, fix a bed for my passenger.”

  “OK. I’ll meet you at Dulles. Anything else?”

  “Fix an appointment for the passenger for the evening.”

  “I can’t hear. Fix an appointment when?”

  “For the evening.”

  “OK. See you.”

  MacKay went back to the cabin and fixed their seat belts, and saw an Aldis light flashing Morse from the control tower. Then the helicopter lifted and the airfield was way below them, lost in the swirling snow.

  “Maybe by this time tomorrow it will be all over and you can be back home.”

  “And you’re sure there isn’t some other way?”

  “Only for him to be confronted by Elliot, Bethel and Harper.”

  “What if Logan sends me away?”

  “Then others will take over. And that will be the end for him.”

  “He isn’t a bad man, my husband, just weak. He was carried away by Andy Dempsey. He would have made a good lecturer. What do Elliot and Bethel think of him?”

  “It sounds ridiculous but I don’t think anybody has had time to think about him as a man.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m an outsider. And I’ve never met him.”

  “If he hadn’t been so American maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There used to be old films, nice films, where an ordinary man becomes President because he’s not a professional politician. It was generally Gary Cooper. And then there’s the winning. Americans have to win. So it can get that it doesn’t matter how you win. And all politicians are crooked.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “They promise so much. And they know they can’t deliver. Washington is just a thieves’ kitchen.”

  MacKay sat silently, hoping that his silence might calm her.

  Then the pilot came back to them.

  “We’ve been cleared through to Dulles. Let’s go.”

  At Dulles, after a turbulent flight, Nolan was waiting for them at the house. He told her that she had the whole day to rest and sleep as he had arranged for her to see her husband at seven o’clock that evening.

  She slept until four in the afternoon and then she bathed slowly and dressed carefully. At five she ate with MacKay and to her surprise the rest and the food seemed to have given her back her confidence. As they drank their coffee she said, “If Logan agrees to come back, to resign, what reason could he give that people would believe?”

  “Medical grounds. We’ve checked his medical record. When he was young he had rheumatic fever. In some instances that can lead to heart trouble later in life. This will be one of those cases. We had already marked down a specialist from Johns Hopkins and a senior Navy heart specialist who could provide the details. He does have high blood pressure anyway.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “I guess so. He had to pay a special supplement on his life insurances. Not much, because it wasn’t serious. But enough for him to go along with the story if he wanted to.”

  She looked at her watch. “What time do we leave?”

  “Now, if you’re ready. Have you got the envelopes?”

  “They’re in my handbag.”

  “I hope you don’t need to use either of them.”

  She turned to look at him. “I think we both know that it will be necessary. Both of them.”

  Nolan sat with them on the back seat of the black Lincoln and it had all the air of a funeral cortège.

  Nolan saw her look at the lit Christmas tree on the lawn at the side of the White House as they drove by to Powell’s hotel.

  CHAPTER 19

  At the hotel, Laura Powell waited with Nolan until they were joined by an FBI man who took them both to a private suite.

  Elliot, Bethel and Harper were already there. Elliot introduced her to the others and then turned awkwardly, his hand on Bethel’s shoulder, to face her.

  “I felt you should meet us all, my dear, so that you knew what you had been told came from us. And also to assure you that if you were able to persuade the President-Elect that what we are suggesting is the wisest course for him, then you have our assurance that our side of the bargain will be faithfully adhered to.”

  “Could we talk about your side of this right now?”

  “Of course, my dear, let us all sit down.”

  They talked for ten minutes and she seemed to be satisfied.

  Nolan said, “I’m taking you to your husband’s suite, Mrs. Powell. I think we should be making our way there.”

  Nolan and Laura Powell walked slowly down the wide corridor, right to the end, and were shown into a large waiting-room. As they sat waiting, she said, “What did Logan say when he was told I wanted to see him?”

  “There was no problem. No
problem.”

  Nolan’s eyes avoided her face.

  “What happens afterwards?”

  “We’ve booked you a suite at the Hilton in my name.” He smiled. “I’m afraid you’re Mrs. Nolan for tonight. My telephone number is on a card by the telephone in your sitting-room.”

  A middle-aged secretary came through the door and smiled.

  “He’s free now, ma’am.” And Laura Powell followed her down the thickly carpeted corridor. The secretary knocked at a door, opened it and then waved her in with a smile. Laura Powell had no doubt that their separate lives were well-known in Washington’s inner circles.

  The room was large and impressive. The furniture heavy and ornate. Powell was standing behind a desk, listening on the telephone. He smiled and pointed to a chair in front of the big desk.

  “… it’s an important committee, Eddie … of course. Well, call me tomorrow.”

  He hung up and pressed a button on a white phone as he lifted it to his ear. “No more calls, Molly … what? … until I tell you. Good.”

  He sat down, smiling at her.

  “A nice surprise, Laura. I couldn’t believe it when they told me you’d called and were coming up. How on earth did you get through the snow?”

  “Courtesy of the US Navy.”

  “Good. I must say my ‘thank you’s’ to them.”

  “How about you come out from behind the big desk, Logan Powell, and sit round here with the people?”

  He laughed and walked round, pulling up the other chair to face her. She looked at him.

  “How do you like it all, Logan?”

  He leaned back, stretching his arms. “You know, Laura, I haven’t had much time to think about whether I like it or not.” He grinned. “I guess I like it. Who wouldn’t?”

  “I’m the bringer of bad news.”

  “What is it? Sammy?”

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  She took a deep breath. “Have you seen Andy in the last few days?”

  “No. But he’s had things to do. He’s busy, too.”

  “He’s in custody, Logan.”

  “Oh, Jesus. What’s he done? I know, it’s that bloody sports car. Speeding?”

  “He’s made a statement.”

  “About what?”

  “About how you got the nomination for Governor and got elected. And how you got the Presidential nomination and got elected.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand, Laura. You’re talking in riddles.”

  “There’s a committee already formed to impeach you.”

  He stared at her, his eyes angry. “You’re crazy, Laura. This is jealousy taken too far.” He reached for the telephone. “I’ll arrange for transport home for you.”

  “Don’t touch the phone, Logan. Very few people know. It would be a disaster.” And something in her voice stayed his hand.

  She opened her handbag and took out the white envelope. “Read this. Don’t bluff any more. I’m your wife, and I love you.”

  He folded back the sheets of stiff paper and started reading. It was fifteen minutes before he had finished, and his face was white when he looked back at her. His voice shook as he spoke.

  “You don’t believe this, Laura? This is just the crap that people rake up as part of the political dog-fight.”

  He tapped the papers with his finger. “This is going to cut off a lot of heads. I’ll see to that.”

  “You must have known, Logan. You must have guessed that you couldn’t have done all that on your own. The most experienced politician in the country could hardly have done it. Nobody could do it as an outsider.”

  “Where is Dempsey?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who gave you this stuff? Who told you about Dempsey?”

  “A CIA officer.”

  “What’s his name?” His hand hovered over the telephone.

  She reached inside her handbag and took out the brown envelope. She handed it to him.

  “They also gave me that.”

  He opened the flap and took out the photographs. She saw his eyes close. When he opened his eyes to look at her his voice was a whisper.

  “What shits. After all this time.”

  He pushed the photographs back in the envelope carefully and meticulously, and she knew that he was playing for time.

  “Tell me about this committee.”

  “All I know is that it exists, and that they are drafting an impeachment document to bring to the Senate in the next few days, if possible before Christmas.”

  “Why did they tell you all this?”

  “They wanted to know if I would see you and break the news. They’ll let you resign. You could come back to us and we could just be a family again.”

  “How many people know?”

  “The Chief Justice, the Speaker, and some CIA people. Very few. They suggested that you resign on medical grounds. They have two heart specialists who could cover this.”

  “They’re very confident, the bastards.”

  “They’re not bastards, Logan. Your people were the bastards. Traitors.”

  “I’m not the first Republican President to have support from the left. All the candidates court them. They always do.”

  “They didn’t give you support, Logan. They committed crimes, they involved you. Your old friend Dempsey fixed the girl and the photographs. They killed Siwecki and his wife to stop them giving evidence. They killed Maria whatever-her-name-was because she sent the CIA to Siwecki. They put in millions of dollars of Russian money to get you elected. That’s not support, that’s corruption.”

  “That’s what they did, not what I did.”

  “Logan. Siwecki made a statement to the CIA before your people murdered him. That strike was contrived and you knew it. You knew it at the time and you went along with it.”

  He looked at her. “Old Elliot and that fat bastard Bethel must have enjoyed all this. You, too.”

  “They could just have gone ahead and hit you with this in public.”

  “They didn’t not do that for my sake. They knew what it could mean to the country. Every bloody Congressman and Senator would have gone down with me and they know it. The public never liked politicians. They liked them even less after Watergate. This would bring the roof down on them all.”

  “I don’t care about the others, Logan. I only care about you. Please think of us all. You, me, and Sammy.”

  “How is Sammy?”

  “He’s had bronchitis but he’s getting better.”

  “How’s he making out?”

  She shrugged. “It’s hard to say. He doesn’t say anything but his grades are down and I was called to see Smithson. He said Sammy was defiant to the staff.”

  There was a long silence before Powell spoke again.

  “You know, it’s odd. Up to a week ago I couldn’t really believe I’d made it. And now I can’t believe this.” He looked at her. “I’ll have to fight these bastards, you know, Laura.”

  “You’d be lynched, Logan. Imagine the Washington Post when it was leaked. Imagine any paper in the country. Those photographs would be enough.”

  “The media would know what it would do to the country. They might rally round for the country’s sake.”

  “Each one waiting for the other to break the story. The editorial boards sniggering at their copies of the photographs. And Congress and the Senate sending every Bill back automatically. They’d cut you into shreds with real venom and feel holy while they did it.”

  “Even if I resign the thing will be leaked.”

  “I don’t think so. It would be a terrible responsibility if they did that after you’d resigned.”

  “What the hell would I do?”

  “You’d get the presidential pension. We could move to Europe on the grounds of your health.”

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You’d spend a lifetime hating me.”

  “My dear, I saw you a
nd Andy Dempsey for the first time ten years ago tomorrow. Jimmy Rankin introduced me to you both. It was at a Christmas Eve dance held at the Women’s College. You had a Ché Guevara moustache and it looked terrible, and you made two very witty cracks that impressed me. Even when I found out later that they were Dorothy Parker originals I was still impressed. I’m still impressed now. Andy Dempsey was a smooth character but you were straight off the front page of Saturday Evening Post. Good, honest American, reliable and all the jazz, and I guessed that one day you’d be a professor. Preferably at Hartford, come the worst at Yale. There was a touch of Scott Fitzgerald about you, and I loved it. And I loved you. And I love you now.”

  “Why?”

  “The same way I should still love Sammy if somebody conned him into doing something stupid. He’d still be my Sammy, and you’re still my husband.”

  “What about the photographs?”

  She shrugged. “You probably felt lonely. And you probably resented my non-co-operation. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I remember that night we met. You wore a white dress with big orange poppies all over it and an orchid in your hair.”

  “Eight out of ten, it was an hibiscus.”

  “Have you ever been to Switzerland?”

  “No.”

  For a moment his face was alight with hope and then it collapsed to the grim lines of tension again.

  “It’s phoney you know, Laura, all this crap they’ve scratched around for. You could do the same to any man in the Senate or Congress. They’ve all got skeletons in the cupboard. Women, booze, backhanders, conspiracies, the lot.”

  He sat on the edge of the desk looking at her. Anxious for her agreement but guessing that it would not be forthcoming. And she sat without speaking, sickeningly aware of his indifference to the people who had been murdered, and those who were now in custody. His mind was still searching for a way to hold on to the prize. He stood up suddenly with manic energy, his fist pounding the desk top.

  “I could have the FBI round them up. The whole damn bunch. For treason. God, I had that bastard Harper in here a few days ago. He never said a word. Just sat there in that same chair saying ‘Yes sir, no sir.’ And all the time he knew.”

  His body slumped as he sat back on the desk.

  “I could write, of course. Maybe a syndicated column on European politics. Switzerland’s right in the middle of it all. There’s quite an American community out there.”