Shall We Tell the President? Read online

  “Of the United States.”

  “Why would she want to see me, sir.”

  “Yesterday I killed you, but today I’ve made you a hero and she wants to congratulate you personally on trying to save Senator Harrison’s life.”

  “What?”

  “You’d better read the morning papers. Say nothing for now; I’ll explain my actions later.”

  “Where do I go, what time, sir?”

  “You’ll be told.” The line clicked.

  Mark replaced the phone and thought about the conversation. He was just about to call Elizabeth to ask if the morning paper had come when the phone rang again.

  “Answer it will you, Mark darling. Now that the lovers have found your whereabouts, it’s bound to be for you.”

  Mark picked it up.

  “Mr. Andrews?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Hold the line one moment, please. The President will be with you in one moment.”

  “Good morning. Florentyna Kane. I just wanted to know if you could find time to drop into the White House this morning at about ten o’clock. I’d like to meet you and have a chat.”

  “I’d be honored, Madam.”

  “Then I’ll look forward to it, Mr. Andrews, and the chance to meet you and congratulate you personally. If you come to the West Entrance, Janet Brown will be there to meet you.”

  “Thank you, Madam.”

  One of those legendary phone calls that the press so often wrote about. The Director had only been checking where he was. Had the President been trying to reach him since eight last night?

  “Who was it, darling?”

  “The President of the United States.”

  “Tell her you’ll call back; she’s always on the line, usually calls collect.”

  “No, I’m serious.”

  “Yes, of course you are.”

  “She wants to see me.”

  “Yes, darling, your place or hers?”

  Mark went into the kitchen and attacked some Wheaties. Elizabeth came in brandishing the Post.

  “Look,” she said. “It’s official. You’re not a villain, you’re a hero.”

  The headline read: SENATOR HARRISON KILLED ON STEPS OF CAPITOL.

  “It was the President, wasn’t it?” she said.

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did, but you didn’t choose to listen.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Elizabeth.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, but let’s not go through this every week.”

  She continued to read the paper. Mark munched his Wheaties.

  “Why would someone want to kill Senator Harrison, Mark?”

  “I don’t know. What does the Post say?”

  “They haven’t figured out a reason yet; they say he was known to have many enemies both here and abroad.” She began to read from the paper:

  “Senator Robert Harrison (D-South Carolina) was shot by an assassin on the steps of the Capitol yesterday morning at 10:06.

  “The assassination took place only moments before President Kane was due to arrive for her final assault on behalf of the Gun Control bill, which had been scheduled for a vote in the Senate yesterday. Because they had been warned of a demonstration on the steps of the Capitol, the Secret Service diverted the President’s car to the Russell Senate Office Building.

  “The bullet lodged in Senator Harrison’s brain and he was pronounced dead on arrival at Woodrow Wilson Medical Center. A second bullet grazed the shoulder of FBI Agent Mark Andrews, 28, who threw himself on the Senator in an effort to save his life. Andrews was treated at the same hospital and later released.

  “There was no immediate explanation of the fact that a second presidential motorcade did arrive at the Capitol steps a few moments before the assassination, without the President.

  “Vice President Bradley ordered an immediate recess of the Senate out of respect for Senator Harrison. The House then voted unanimously to extend the recess for seven days.

  “The President, who arrived at the Capitol via the congressional subway from the Russell Building, first learned the news of Harrison’s assassination when she reached the Senate. Visibly shaken, she announced that the luncheon to discuss gun control would continue as planned but asked the assembled Senators to observe a minute of silence in honor of their dead colleague.

  “The President went on to say, ‘I know we are all shocked and saddened by the tragic and horrifying event which has just occurred. This senseless killing of a good and decent man must, however, only strengthen our determination to work together in making our country safe from the easy access of arms.’

  “The President plans to address the nation at nine o’clock tonight.”

  “So now you know everything, Liz.”

  “I know nothing,” she replied.

  “I didn’t know very much of that myself,” Mark admitted.

  “Living with you is going to be difficult.”

  “Who said I was going to live with you?”

  “I took it for granted from the way you’re eating my eggs.”

  At the Fontainebleau Hotel a man was sitting by the side of the swimming pool reading the Miami Herald and drinking coffee. At least Senator Harrison could cause no more trouble which made him feel a little safer. Xan had kept his part of the bargain.

  He sipped the coffee, a little hot, it didn’t matter, he was in no hurry. He had already given new orders; he couldn’t afford any further risks. Xan would be dead by the evening; that had been arranged. Matson and Tony would be freed for lack of evidence, so his lawyer, who had never let him down yet, had assured him, and he would not be visiting Washington for a while. He relaxed and settled back in his beach chair to let the Miami sun warm him. He lit another cigarette.

  At 9:45, the Director was met at the White House by Janet Brown, the President’s Chief of Staff. They waited and chatted. The Director briefed her on Special Agent Andrews’ background. Brown made careful notes.

  Mark arrived just before 10:00. He had only just managed to get home and change into a new suit.

  “Good morning, Director,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Good morning, Mark. Glad you could make it.” Slightly quizzical but not disapproving. “This is the President’s Chief of Staff, Janet Brown.”

  “Good morning, ma’am,” said Mark.

  Janet Brown took over. “Will you be kind enough to come through to my office, where we can wait. The President will be videotaping her address to the nation for this evening’s television broadcast so that she can fly to Camp David at 11:15. I imagine you and the Director will have about fifteen minutes with her.”

  Janet Brown took them to her office, a large room in the West Wing with a fine view of the Rose Garden through a bow window.

  “I’ll get us some coffee,” she said.

  “That’ll be a change,” murmured Mark.

  “I’m sorry?” said Janet Brown.

  “Nothing.”

  The Director and Mark settled down in comfortable chairs where they could watch a large liquid-crystal monitor screen on one of the walls, already alive with comings and goings in the Oval Office.

  The President’s forehead was being powdered in preparation for her speech and the cameramen were wheeling around her. Janet Brown was on the phone.

  “CBS and NBC can roll, Janet, but ABC is still fixing things up with their OB unit,” said an agitated female voice.

  Janet Brown got the producer of ABC on the other line.

  “Get a move on, Harry, the President doesn’t have all day.”

  “Janet.”

  Florentyna Kane was on the middle of the screen.

  She looked up. “Yes, Madam President?”

  “Where’s ABC?”

  “I’m just chasing them, Madam President.”

  “Chasing them? They’ve had four hours’ warning. They couldn’t get a camera to the Second Coming.”

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