Capital Offense

by Kathleen Antrim

  Jack reread the headline.

  Crowd Cheers First Lady’s War On Drags

  He’d known that Katherine and Carolyn were working on some major reforms, but with his policy of not mixing work with their relationship, he’d had no idea of the impact. He read on.

  First Lady Carolyn Alden Lane is beating her own previous record as the most popular woman in history with numbers that surpass any other person in recorded time.

  Even John F. Kennedy did not enjoy such outstanding popularity. Her latest attack on the drug trade is being touted as a brilliant plan with the kind of teeth that could end the reign of drug lords for years to come.

  “By eliminating the market for drugs versus trying to eliminate the pushers, we are bringing this fight onto our own battlefield,” Carolyn Alden Lane said. With the polls climbing, legislators are quickly jumping on board to support the First Lady’s plans.

  Jack knew that the fate of his relationship with Katherine relied on him. He’d been the one to walk out. Was he irrationally obsessed? No, too much evidence existed. He sipped at his beer, theoretically piecing the puzzle together. His father’s paperwork, Adam Miles’s journal, the tape, and the E-mail all tied Carolyn to Cain. Even though her investments with Mort Fields appeared to be legitimate, his father’s files implied impropriety. And suspiciously, Jack realized, his father’s last known business appointment had been with Carolyn.

  Jack knew his father opposed Warner’s reelection to the Senate. And with the death of Bill Rudly, Warner had not only claimed the Senate seat, but had also become the senior Senator for Missouri, thus positioning him for his presidential bid.

  Throughout history, people had been murdered for less. Power. Money. Love. The three main reasons people resorted to killing. But could Carolyn have ordered Cain’s men to murder his father? Jack wondered. What about the deaths of Adam Miles and Mort Fields? It certainly appeared that she’d ordered his elimination.

  The whole scenario sounded ridiculous, Jack thought. Maybe Katherine was right. Maybe in his desperation to deal with, and solve, his father’s death, he was grasping at straws. He finished off his beer and ordered another. Regardless of what this investigation did to his relationship with Katherine. Jack knew he owed the truth to his father’s memory and to himself. He’d uncover it, or die trying.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  Any decision was better than no decision, Katherine thought, standing in her office. She stared at the copy of the E-mail message that Jack had shown her. This couldn’t be from Carolyn, but she had to admit, she believed it was sent from Carolyn’s E-mail address. There had to be a logical explanation.

  Only one way to find out, Katherine said to herself. She let herself into Carolyn’s office, sat down behind her computer and logged on. As her fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in the commands that would allow her to view the log of Carolyn’s communications, her gaze danced nervously from the screen to the door.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered as she viewed the message, proving Jack’s accusations. She clicked the print icon.

  Suddenly, the office door swung open.

  Katherine’s pulse thundered in her ears. Stay calm. She smiled at Randy McCabe, another assistant that Carolyn had recruited from the prosecutor’s office in Missouri.

  Brow furrowed, he cocked his head and stared at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Carolyn asked me to pull up some records for her.” The whir of the printer caused Katherine to jump.

  Randy’s gaze swung to the printer. “I just talked with Carolyn, and she sent me in here to pull up some info off her computer for the meeting she’s in. She didn’t mention you might be using it.”

  Katherine rose from the chair and pulled the copies off the printer. “She probably just forgot. It’s all yours.” Leaving Randy standing in the middle of Carolyn’s office, Katherine shut the door behind her.

  She picked up her briefcase, and walked out of the White House with as much restraint as she could muster. Fear coursed through her veins, causing her arms and legs to tingle with weakness.

  You’re blowing this out of proportion, she whispered to herself. Jack had her freaked out and paranoid. This is not a panic situation. I should probably just turn around and go back to work.

  Fear propelled her forward, away from her office. But where to go? She searched her pockets, then realized she’d left her mobile phone on her desk. Damn.

  She walked about three blocks when she finally spotted a pay phone. Please, oh please be there, she thought as she dialed Jack.

  He answered on the third ring. “Rudly.”

  “Jack, thank God you’re there.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Katherine told him the entire story, including the E-mail log she’d retrieved from Carolyn’s computer that proved her communications with Cain. “I’m sure it’s all right. There’s got to be a logical explanation. I should probably just go back to the office.” She desperately wanted Jack to tell her everything was fine and she should return to work.

  “Don’t go near the White House.” His voice rose a decibel. “Are you at home?”

  “No, I didn’t go home.”

  “How far from the White House are you?” The tension in his voice reached out, causing her heart to race.

  “About three blocks.” Her hand shook. “You’re scaring me, Jack, really scaring me.”

  His voice became silky smooth. “It’s going to be fine. But you must listen to me. You’ve got to think rationally.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, you need to remember that if they’re tracking you they’ve already checked the cab companies, and know that you’re probably still on foot.”

  Katherine looked around. People strode briskly past her, seemingly intent on their own destinations. “Do you really think they may come looking for me?”

  “They might once they figure out you left early. Are you sure no one followed you out of the White House?”

  “I don’t think so.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to act like you’re just out for a walk – go in and out of some stores, or whatever. Scan the people around you. You can tell if anyone is following you that way. If it looks like someone is staying with you, lose them. Crawl out a back window if you have to. Just lose them.”

  “All right.”

  “Make your way to my hotel, and go straight to the women’s restroom off the main lobby. Go into a stall, lock the door, and stand on a toilet so no one can see your feet. Once I can confirm it’s safe to move you, I’ll get you out of there. Got all that?”

  “Yes, I… Oh my God!” Two men, in dark suits, were coming toward her from across the street. They were about a block away but cutting diagonally through traffic.

  She heard Jack calling, “Katherine. Katherine…” as she slammed the phone into the cradle.

  She exited the phone booth. Don’t panic. Think. She glanced back over her shoulder. Three quarters of a block, but walking fast.

  A café sat twenty steps away. Stay calm. Katherine pasted a smile on her face and entered the restaurant.

  “Do you have a restroom?” she asked the server behind the counter.

  “Through the swinging doors and down the hall.” The server pointed.

  “Can I have a cup of French roast when I return?”

  “Sure.”

  Slow. Relax. Katherine walked through the pass through doors and into the bathroom. She heard the bell chime on the front door of the café as the two men entered.

  Cracking the restroom door, she eavesdropped. The café was small, so it wasn’t difficult.

  “Has a woman come in here in the last minute or so? Long, curly auburn hair, green eyes, about five-foot-seven?”

  “Yeah, sure,” the server said. “She just went to the restroom. That’s her coffee right there.”

  It’s not my imagination, Katherine thought. They are after me. She eyed the five
by six tile room. Shit, no windows.

  She cracked the door open, again. They were still talking to the server.

  Katherine slipped across the hallway and into the men’s bathroom. They probably won’t start with this one, she thought, looking for a way out.

  Light shone from the last stall. She entered the cubicle where a small window was open. Thank God.

  She slid the bottom sash up. Standing on the toilet, she placed her hands on the window ledge and lifted herself up to sit on the sill. Curling into a ball, she squeezed her left leg through the window, skinning her shin.

  Katherine heard footsteps down the hall.

  Quickly, she slid her right leg out as she rolled to her stomach. Then she pushed off the ledge and dropped six feet to the ground.

  Her legs buckled.

  ‘There she is,“ a voice above her yelled.

  Katherine struggled to her feet, and slipping on trash, took off running. Even though it was afternoon, the alley was in shadows, and the stench of refuse burned her nostrils.

  She tried a door. Locked. She ran on.

  The sound of running feet thundered in her ears.

  Another door. She pulled, but it was stuck. Katherine looked back, the men were gaining. Taking a deep breath, she yanked. The door swung free.

  She ran through the stockroom of a clothier and onto the sales floor. Katherine caught a glimpse of a surprised salesclerk as she dashed out the front door.

  One street over from the café, she turned left and ran right into a Secret Service agent.

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  Katherine sat in Carolyn’s office trembling as she waited for the First Lady’s return. The drapes were pulled back. The sun’s rays streamed into the room, causing Katherine to blink as her eyes adjusted to the bright natural light.

  Carolyn strode into the room. “Thanks, Martin. I’ll take it from here,” she said to the Secret Service agent standing outside the door.

  He nodded as Carolyn shut the door behind her.

  Katherine flushed crimson.

  Carolyn sat behind her desk. “Why were you on my computer?”

  Katherine chewed on her lower lip. “I had to check something out. I was trying to protect your reputation, but it seems that you don’t need protecting. It seems that what you’re accused of, just may be true.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Katherine pointed to the documentation the agents had confiscated that now lay on Carolyn’s desk. “I think that explains everything.”

  Carolyn read over the pages and shrugged. “It’s my E-mail log. What’s incriminating about it?”

  “You E-mailed Cain?”

  “Cain owns a private investigator firm, and yes, I’ve used them from time to time. That’s certainly not a criminal offense.”

  Then, Katherine handed her the E-mail Jack had given her that tied Carolyn to Cain regarding his beating.

  Carolyn quickly read the message. “Who wrote this?”‘

  “I thought you did.”

  Carolyn placed her hands on her desk, her gaze fixed on Katherine. “You need to tell me everything you know. Starting with Jack’s well-being.”

  Katherine blanched. This wasn’t what she had planned. But now, she was committed to a complete explanation. She just hoped Jack would forgive her.

  SEVENTY-SIX

  Vice-President Richard Young walked beside the president as they made their way to a luncheon with the Congressional leadership in the East Room.

  “This is a good opportunity to float Brandon Ross as a candidate for the Supreme Court appointment. I think a soft approach-”

  Warner stopped and turned to Richard. “I would have thought that after all your years on the Hill, that you’d have realized that how you approach these guys doesn’t matter. It’s all about what they want, negotiation. And by the way, I’m not going with Ross.”

  “I thought we had agreed he was the best choice,” Richard said through clenched teeth.

  “No, you wanted Ross. I simply agreed that he was qualified. I’m going with Carl Rembrandt.”

  Richard shook his head. “He’s too controversial and extreme. This will bite us in the ass. I can’t endorse that man.”

  “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Warner turned and strolled into the room.

  Throughout the luncheon, Richard hid his rage behind a practiced smile. Warner had made a habit of freezing him out, and showed no signs of thawing. He took another bite of filet mignon as he watched the interaction of the president and the Congressional leaders. The topic was an energy conservation bill that was destined to hit the president’s desk within the month.

  “I think we need to take this up on the golf course,” Warner said.

  “Only if you carry a pen in your golf bag,” Speaker of the House Jonathan Daniels said with a laugh. “In fact, you sign off on this bill, and I might consider letting you win the round of golf. Mr. President.”

  Everyone in the room erupted into laughter.

  Richard forced a laugh.

  Warner’s gaze lifted from his plate and his eyes locked on Richard’s. “Richard. I’m sure everyone is interested to hear about your recommendation for the Supreme Court opening.” All of the attention in the room turned to the Vice President.

  “The Vice President is recommending Carl Rembrandt for the post,” Warner continued. “Please expound on your reasoning.”

  Richard caught his expression one beat before it slipped to shock.

  A slight smile played on Warner’s lips. He had him by the balls and knew it. In fact, it was obvious to Richard that Warner was thoroughly enjoying this moment.

  The bastard.

  Warner’s sniper shot hit the bulls-eye. He should have seen him taking aim, Richard thought. Warner’s set-up had been perfect. The depths of his ruthlessness amazed Richard. In all of his years in politics, he’d never met a man so able to bend the rules to his will and repeatedly get away with it.

  Now, he faced a no-win situation. Contradicting the president in public would be considered an unforgivable offense, capable of destroying his political future.

  Publicly supporting Rembrandt for the post would lock him to the radical judge and tarnish his Boy Scout image. He didn’t have much choice in the situation. Richard realized the latter was the least of the two evils.

  Warner’s machinations were brilliant, Richard thought. He’d set him up to take the fall if Rembrandt was rejected as the next Supreme Court Justice, and if he was approved, then Warner got his way. A win win for President Lane.

  Richard set down his fork, regained his composure, and began. “Carl Rembrandt is a brilliant judge with a distinguished legal history.”

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  Carolyn stormed into the Oval Office.

  Warner turned as she entered. “I’m in a meeting. Check with one of the secretaries to see when I’m free next.”

  “You’re free now.” Carolyn looked pointedly at the men, two senators, the Speaker of the House, and thee Cabinet members, who sat with Warner. She refused to play by Warner’s rules, even if it meant suffering his humiliation from time to time. “Or we can air your dirty laundry in front of them?” She waved the sheet of paper she held. “Your choice.”

  Warner nodded toward the door and the meeting dispersed.

  Carolyn watched them exit. When she turned back to Warner, his face was crimson.

  He stood, walked to his bar, poured himself a double Jack Daniels, and belted it down.

  Not his first for the day, Carolyn was sure.

  “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.” He set his glass down, and moved toward her. “I won’t tolerate it.”

  “And I won’t tolerate this.” She threw the paper at him. “How the hell did you get my E-mail address and my password?”

  He laughed. “Don’t you mean, who did this? And why?”

  Carolyn shook her head. “That’s your problem, Warner, you’ve always underestimated me. I know who did
this. And I know why. I want to know how?” She knew she’d been betrayed. But she wasn’t sure by whom. All of the arrows pointed to Dailey, but she struggled to believe it was true. She hoped Warner’s ego would force him to gloat, providing her with the answer.

  “All you need to know is that you’ve been set up, and set up well. You’ll march to my tune now, or I’ll see you arrested and claim you’re mentally unfit. Edmund’s got several doctors in his back pocket, all of whom are ready to attest to your illness. The deeds you’ve set in motion are horrendous.” Warner shook his head. “And the smoking gun is so hot, it appears to have been used in a shoot out.”

  “So, Mark came up with this on his own?” She played her hand.

  “Dailey couldn’t come up with shit on his own. He had help.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Her worst fears were contained. Now, she knew she couldn’t give Jack away by mentioning Adam Miles’s files. It would be like issuing his death sentence.

  “I like to think so,” Warner smirked. “Some of your crimes may be forgivable, the heat of a political battle and all that, but when you went after Young’s boy, well, no one will ever forgive an attack on a child. Especially when it’s ordered by a woman who claims to champion children’s causes.”

  He’d hurt a child. He’d almost killed Richard’s son. And he’d done it in her name. Carolyn felt something snap in her mind. She remembered screaming. “You bastard, you bastard…”

  And then she flew at him, unable to control her rage.

  Warner wiped at the blood that trickled down his cheek. “You bitch! You fucking bitch! You scratched me.”

  At Warner’s outburst, a Secret Service agent ran through the door. He grabbed Carolyn and held her away from Warner.

  She took a few deep breaths and turned to the agent. “You can let go of me.” She could see sympathy in the embarrassed faces of the agents, and it made her feel worse.

  The agent immediately released her.

  Carolyn smoothed her fingers over her hair, then straightened her clothing.