Capitol Betrayal

by William Bernhardt

  “He was asking JFK if he believed in God.”

  Swinburne nodded several times. “And did he?”

  “Objection,” Ben said, without great hope. Mostly he just wanted to break up Swinburne’s maniacal flow. “How are JFK’s religious beliefs relevant to the matter at hand?”

  “The point of the testimony,” Swinburne said with a sneer, “is to demonstrate the depth of the president’s delusional mental state.”

  Cartwright nodded. “I’m afraid I’ll have to allow it.”

  “So,” Swinburne said to Sarie, “did JFK believe in God?”

  “JFK didn’t answer,” she said, smiling. “At least not so as I could hear him.”

  “What did the president have to say on the subject?”

  “He said he wondered about JFK’s immortal soul. He said that JFK mentioned God from time to time but that he doesn’t seem to have been very religious. He mentioned that JFK didn’t seem to observe at least one of the Ten Commandments.”

  “I see.”

  “He wondered if JFK had placed his faith in God when his PT boat was sunk. Then he asked FDR if he lost his faith when he contracted polio. And he asked about FDR’s lack of attention to the same commandment.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Well, I didn’t just stand there eavesdropping. I went to finishing school, you know. I have manners.”

  “Of course. What did you do next?”

  “I cleared my throat and made a lot of noise. I didn’t want to startle or embarrass him. Then I approached and laid my hand on his shoulder and told him the kiddies were waiting.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He… didn’t answer at first.”

  “And then?”

  Sarie looked like a caged cougar. Ben wondered how many other people knew this story-and who might have been able to call her on it if she hadn’t come forward with the details. “Then I noticed that he was crying. Big-time tears. All over his face.”

  “Crying. I see. Did he say anything?”

  “Yeah. He grabbed my hand and asked me if I would pray with him.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, you heard what I said, you big bowl of grits. He wanted me to pray with him.”

  “And what was your response?”

  “Well, I’m aware there is some precedent for this sort of thing in the White House. I didn’t see as it would hurt anything. And we were celebrating a religious holiday. In a pagan sort of way.”

  “So you prayed with him.”

  “Sure. Why not? Nothing I didn’t do every week back at the Southern Baptist church in Birmingham. He did all the talking.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He prayed for guidance. He prayed for insight. And he prayed for, um, his immortal soul.”

  “His immortal soul? Did he actually use those words?”

  “He did.”

  “Was there something he was concerned about? Felt guilty about?”

  “If there was, he didn’t share.”

  “Did he pray for anything else?”

  “Yes. He also, um-” She cleared her throat. “He prayed for God to forgive JFK and FDR for their marital indiscretions and to take their souls up to heaven.”

  “I see,” Swinburne said, steepling his hands. “How thoughtful of him.”

  “Yeah. I thought so.”

  “How did he look when all this took place?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. He looked like himself.”

  “Eyes, complexion, posture…?”

  “His eyes were red, but he had been crying. His face seemed red, too. Kinda puffy. He’s so tan, though, sometimes it’s hard to tell about that. He was slouching. He didn’t have his presidential aura. He seemed tired.”

  “And what happened after that?”

  “Nothing. After we finished with the praying, he cleaned up a bit, then followed me outside and opened the egg roll. Just like nothing had ever happened.”

  “No more odd behavior.”

  “No. He was completely himself again.”

  “But for a time, when he was talking to the pictures and all-he did not seem himself?”

  Sarie thought for a moment. She had pretty much opened herself up to this one with her last remark, and she knew it. “I suppose not. Or perhaps it was just a side to him I hadn’t seen before.”

  “In fifteen years of working with him.”

  “Right.” Her eyes lowered. “Right.”

  “Ms. Morrell, since President Kyler took office, how many other such erratic episodes have there been? Instances of the president behaving oddly.”

  Ben wanted to object-it was clearly a leading question and assumed facts not in evidence. But since she was a hostile witness-albeit a pretty cooperative one-he knew Swinburne could get away with it.

  “I don’t know. Most of the time he has been perfectly normal. Sharp as the best needle in my mama’s sewing kit.”

  “But how many times has he been… odd?”

  Sarie shrugged. “I dunno. Once or twice, maybe.”

  “I’ll assume that means at least twice. Would you tell us about those incidents, please?”

  She tossed her head back, swinging her long hair out of her face. “Well, there was that deal in the White House swimming pool. That was kinda…” She looked at the president apologetically.

  President Kyler smiled. “Weird?”

  She smiled back. “Your word, not mine.”

  Swinburne made his trademark grunting noise again. “I will ask the witness to address her comments to me.”

  “My pleasure, cutie pie,” Sarie responded.

  “What happened at the swimming pool?” Swinburne demanded.

  She leaned back. Ben got the impression this story was going to take a while. “It was another one of those disappearing-president deals. He was supposed to be taking a meeting-come to think of it, he was supposed to be meeting you, wasn’t he?”

  “Was this the Tuesday before last?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  “He was supposed to be meeting with me. He kept me waiting for more than an hour.”

  Ben sighed. Now the prosecutor was actually testifying-but it would be pointless to object. They had to get the evidence before the cabinet as expeditiously as possible.

  “Right. Well, speaking as the keeper of the president’s schedule-you got off easy. Next time bring a book to read.”

  “I’ll try to remember that. So what was he doing in the swimming pool?”

  “Strange as it may seem, he was swimming.”

  “I’m guessing there was more to it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought this up as an example of odd behavior.”

  “Well, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first. Till I stepped up to the edge of the pool to talk to him. That’s when I noticed…”

  “Yes?”

  “He wasn’t wearing any clothes. Forgot the ol’ swimsuit, you know what I mean?”

  Ben saw several low-key looks exchanged across the room-and on the closed-circuit screen. The president was staring intently at the floor, making eye contact with no one.

  “I mean, it’s not that unusual, is it? I know when I was growing up, the boys used to go to the Y early in the morning and they’d all swim naked. I don’t know what that was all about, but it was why Daddy never took me to the Y on Saturday mornings.”

  “But the president apparently didn’t have your daddy’s scruples.”

  “I don’t think the president expected me to drop by.”

  “Wouldn’t he always expect his chief of staff to come get him when he’s overdue?”

  “I think perhaps he had lost track of the time.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Laps.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Eventually. Once he noticed me. He, um, asked if I wanted to get in.”

  Swinburne arched an eyebrow. “How agreeable of him.”

  “Yeah, I thought so.”


  “And did you?”

  “No.”

  “But why not?”

  “I didn’t have my suit.”

  “Apparently that’s not a requirement in the presidential pool.”

  “It is for me.”

  “Did the president seem embarrassed by his nakedness?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Did he provide any kind of explanation?”

  “Well, I guess at one point he did say that he longed to be free, free like a butterfly, free like the wind. Maybe that had something to do with it.”

  “And was he surprised when you declined to get in with him?”

  “Actually, yeah. He was. A bit cranky about it, too. Almost as if he had forgotten about, you know, gender differences and such.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Oh, I eventually managed to get the little butterfly out of the water. I held out a towel-well, I held it between us to block the view, if you know what I mean. He was jabbering exuberantly about how good it was to be alive! Jumping up and down like an eight-year-old. At one point he asked if I thought it would be a good idea to hold the next cabinet meeting at a nudist camp.”

  Ben saw several necks stiffen on the television screen.

  “And your reply?”

  “I told him I thought it would be an interesting experiment, but he would have to get a different chief of staff because I wouldn’t be there.”

  “Thank God for that,” Swinburne said. “You may be the only thing that’s kept the executive branch from descending into total chaos.”

  “Well, I try to help out where I can.”

  “Was there anything else unusual about this encounter?”

  “Wasn’t that unusual enough?”

  “Any crying or praying? Talking to imaginary friends?”

  “Not this time, sugar.”

  “Fine. I believe there was at least one other instance of unusual presidential behavior that you observed.”

  Darn. Ben had been hoping he might forget. He scanned the room, wondering if anyone else was as tired of this as he was. Unfortunately, all he saw was rapt attention. He decided that objecting on the grounds of repetition might be ill-advised.

  “Yes. There was. Just one other. Three days ago.” Her face lost all traces of attitude and humor. Ben got the disturbing feeling that this episode was going to be the worst of them all.

  “And what did he talk about on this occasion? Butterflies?”

  “No,” Sarie said, lowering her eyes. “Suicide.”

  29

  11:09 A.M

  With one word, Ben knew Sarie’s testimony had transformed from an account of eccentric behavior to something far more dire.

  “Had the president gone missing again?” Swinburne sounded almost hopeful.

  “In a sense. It was late at night. After hours. He wasn’t missing any meetings. His wife just wondered where he was. I think he was late for their weekly gin game or something.”

  “Is tracking the president in your job description?”

  “I was doing it as a favor for Sophie.”

  “I see. How long did it take you to find him this time?”

  “Over an hour.”

  “Really? I would’ve thought a hyperkinetic sort such as yourself could’ve covered the entire White House in an hour.”

  “Twice. But I still couldn’t find him. Because he wasn’t there. Not exactly.”

  Ben wondered if she would wait for the obvious question. She did. There could not be any surer sign of her reluctance to proceed.

  “Where did you find him?”

  Sarie took a deep cleansing breath, then released it slowly. “On the roof.”

  Swinburne went bug-eyed. “What?”

  “His keepers were going nuts, naturally. He hadn’t logged out-not that he would’ve been allowed to leave by himself-but they couldn’t find him. He might still be up there if we hadn’t heard from a cook. Turns out there’s a service panel in the corner of the kitchen. Climb through and you’re out on the roof.”

  “Sounds like a potential security hazard.”

  “Of course it was bolted, but on the inside. Who even knew it was there?”

  “The president, apparently.”

  “Well, yeah. The cook just saw the tips of his shoes before they vanished out of sight. When I inquired, she pointed out the passageway to me and I dutifully scrambled up it. I really should be paid more than I am, you know?”

  “As should we all.”

  “So I grabbed this little iron ladder that looked as if it’d been there since John Adams first moved in, and pretty soon I was on the roof. Can you believe it? The roof of the White House. Who even knew that was possible?”

  “Not me. But I didn’t know there was an underground bunker before they dragged me here today.”

  “Good point. So the wind was horrible-practically blew me off the roof-and I knew this couldn’t be safe because we were probably vulnerable to snipers and such, but I toughed it out and looked around. Over by the railing-and by that I mean the edge of the roof-that’s where I found the president.”

  Ben wondered if he should object on grounds that the witness was employing a horrendously run-on sentence. He decided Cartwright probably wouldn’t be amused.

  “What was he doing?”

  “He was… laughing.”

  “Laughing? Not crying?”

  “Well, that too. It was strange. He was doing both at the same time. And talking.”

  “What was he talking about?”

  “Oh, many things. Rapidly. One topic after another.”

  “Let’s take them in order. From the top.”

  Sarie frowned. “Well, at the start, he was talking about flying.”

  Swinburne did a double take. “Flying? Like a butterfly?”

  “I suppose. He said, ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could get away from it all? Just fly away.’”

  “Then what did he do?”

  “He stood up.” Sarie licked her lips. It was obvious that this had been a difficult experience for her, one she did not relish recounting. “That was a bad idea in and of itself. I told you how strong the wind was up there. An accident would be easy. But he didn’t seem to notice. He extended his arms in front of him, like Superman, you know? He shouted, ‘Up, up, and away!’ Bent his knees and sort of… sprang. ‘I can flyyyyyyyy!’ he shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Flyyyyyyy!’” She paused, caught her breath. “I thought he was really going to do it. I panicked. I grabbed desperately for his feet. The irony is, he wasn’t actually trying to fly, but my stupid groping almost knocked him off the roof.”

  “Did his feet leave the roof?”

  “No, thank God. But that seemed to puzzle him. He acted as if… as if he really thought it was going to happen.”

  “As if he really believed he could fly?” Swinburne suggested.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “That was my impression. He expected it to happen and it didn’t. So he was perplexed.”

  Beside him, Ben saw the president shaking his head. Did that mean it wasn’t true? That it hadn’t happened like that? Or just that the president was miserably embarrassed by this testimony?

  “What happened next?”

  “He sat down, eventually. But his mood had changed. He wasn’t talking ninety miles a minute anymore. There was a lot more crying and a lot less laughing. Somehow the fact that he had failed to fly seemed to have really depressed him. He became despondent. Difficult to talk to. So mostly I just listened.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I don’t remember it all. He just seemed so… hopeless. Helpless. Deep in despair.” She turned toward President Kyler. “I’m sorry, Roland.”

  “You just go on telling them what you saw,” he said softly but firmly. “There’s never any harm in telling the truth.”

  A noble sentiment, Ben thought. But he knew from personal experience that it was the truth that could often be the most damaging.

  “Please c
ontinue,” Swinburne said, urging her on.

  “He was sobbing. Tears were streaming down his face. He said things like, ‘What’s the point of it? What’s the point of going on? No one cares if I live or I die.’”

  Even Admiral Cartwright, he of the stoic judicial face, reacted to this. This testimony was getting darker by the moment.

  “He said he was barely getting started but he was already a terrible president. He said he had let the American people down. He said he knew things were going to get worse before they got better and he just couldn’t handle it. I tried to talk to him, tried to tell him that wasn’t true, that he was a good man, that people all around the world had tapped into his optimism, his desire for change, for world peace. But it was no use. He was inconsolable. That was the greatest irony, I thought. He had brought hope to people all around the world. But he couldn’t bring hope to himself.”

  Swinburne nodded sadly. “What else did he say?”

  Sarie thought for a moment. “He was particularly overcome with tears when he started talking about parenting. He said he had been a horrible parent, a failure. He said if there were anything at all he could do over in life, it wouldn’t be with his wife, or his education, or politics. He wanted a second chance to be a better father.”

  Like everyone else in the room, Ben knew the president had only one child, a daughter, Jenny Kyler, who had been something of a rebel ever since she left home. She’d gone to school at Smith and was apparently bright, but she’d frequently made headlines by getting caught out after curfew, underage drinking. Once when Kyler was governor she was arrested while protesting outside the auditorium where her father was about to speak. Sophie Kyler had referred to Jenny among friends as “proof that no good turn goes unpunished.”

  When Kyler had announced his candidacy for the presidency, it looked as though he might be the first candidate in some time with no children being used as campaign props. And then, to everyone’s surprise, Jenny came on board. She was even useful. Ben had heard Sarie say that she was very good at keeping her father on schedule, which apparently was an ongoing problem. And then, just after the first debate, a journalist’s microphone caught her referring to the opposing candidate as “a first-class asshole.” The next day, that was splashed all over the papers. Kyler’s campaign had no choice but to publicly apologize-since Jenny refused-and to remove her from the campaign staff. Jenny threw a fit, publicly vowing to never have anything to do with her father again. And she had been true to her word. Despite the best efforts of a number of people, she had not visited once in all the time her father had been in the White House. Ben had heard rumors that no one was even sure where she was.