by Stuart Woods
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“You know it. I expect that opinion is being voiced at a number of residences around the city, including the big white one on Pennsylvania Avenue.”
“Is there going to be an investigation of all this?”
“You can’t investigate something that never happened.”
“That’s your story, and you’re sticking to it?”
“You got it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I hope so, too, baby.”
“You want bacon or ham with your eggs?”
“I want you with my eggs.”
“Done.”
FIFTY-NINE
WILL LEE WAS IN BED, watching a DVD of Casablanca, when Kate came home from work.
“You’re pretty late,” he said. “I didn’t know people at your level of government service worked after midnight.”
Kate dropped her clothes on the floor and crawled into bed with him, snuggling her warm body against his. “Why, Mr. President, you’re not wearing any clothes.”
He groped around. “Why, Madame Director, neither are you.”
“Hang on,” she said. “I’ve got some news that will put you in the mood.”
“I don’t need any news to get in the mood,” he said, turning toward her, “but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“You’re right. It was Teddy Fay who shot Ali ben Saud this morning, then blew up an office building under construction across the street from the U.N.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I just thought you’d like it confirmed. What you don’t know is that they found Teddy Fay’s body in the wreckage of the building, along with the homemade gun he used.”
“So, it’s over?”
“It’s over.”
“Are we going to announce anything?”
“I’m certainly not, and you’re crazy, if you do. Tell your congressional leaders and tell them to sit on it.”
“What happens if they don’t?”
“Then they’re guilty of hiding the whole business from the American people.”
“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this.”
“You made that decision weeks ago, pal; learn to live with it.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You know I’m right.”
“Now can I molest you?”
“You’d better.”
They reached for each other.
SIXTY
THREE WEEKS LATER, Irene Foster got home, tired and not a little drunk. Her living room was piled with boxes; her walls and bookcases were bare; there were still sheets on her bed, but that was the only comfort of home left in her little townhouse.
From somewhere, she heard the muffled ring of a cell phone, and she tore at her handbag looking for it, finally dumping the contents on the floor.
“Hello?”
“Hello, yourself.”
“Thank God, I was beginning to think…”
“Don’t ever think that”
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere in the Middle East.”
She laughed. “Oh, that is very good news.”
“I thought so, myself. What have you been up to?”
“Today was my last day. There was a party; I’m roaring drunk.”
“I wish I were there to take advantage of you.”
“If I can join you in the Middle East, we’ll arrange that.”
“Come ahead.”
“Really?”
“There’s a little inn; I can’t pronounce it properly, but it translates, literally, as the Hostelry of the Three Forces. I’ve no idea what that means.”
“You’re there now?”
“When you check in, a Mr. Charles Lockwood will be waiting for you, and he’ll have half a dozen houses for you to look at. When will you check in?”
“You can’t use that name!”
“I’m not using it; it’s the name of the real estate agent who’s going to show you the house.”
“Are you serious?”
“Perfectly.”
“And what name are you using?”
“We’ll invent one when you arrive. When will that be?”
“The sale of the house closes at ten tomorrow morning. If the airlines cooperate I can be in the Middle East by tomorrow night.”
“Perfect. Tell me, how did that little matter that so concerned your people work out?”
“It’s dead and gone, and so is the subject of the matter.”
“Really? Do they really believe that?”
“Probably not, but they would prefer to.”
“That’s almost as good as if they believed it.”
“Better. They’ll be covering their asses for the rest of their careers.”
“Is anyone going to come looking for that employee who didn’t turn in his time sheets?”
“That gentleman resigned from the service, effective last week. I turned in his resignation for him.”
“So that’s a dead issue?”
“It’s not even an issue.”
“Call me before you take off tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
TEDDY BROKE THE CONNECTION and lay back on the chaise lounge, looking up at the stars. A warm, tropical breeze wafted across his bald spot. He sighed and drifted off into a doze, dreaming of doing nothing forever.
***
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