Her eyes met his. “Warner, tell me you didn’t cause this-”

Warner glared back. “This what? Heart attack? Don’t be naive.”

“My God, he’s your father.”

Warner’s eyes narrowed. “That son of a bitch is not my father!”

“What are you talking about?”

“My mother had an affair. Seems to be a recurring theme.” He arched an eyebrow at her.

“So you see, I’m really a bastard. I’ve never been anything to Edmund other than the bane of his existence. A reminder of my mother’s failure. An imperfection in his life that he tried to dress up for his own gain.”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“All along, I’ve been Edmund’s pawn. If not me, it would have been someone else. I was simply convenient.”

“I’m sure he loved you in his own way.”

Warner laughed, the sound bitter and harsh. “Don’t kid yourself.”

“I understand your hatred of me. But I don’t understand-”

“You understand perfectly. You said it yourself. Carolyn, politics is war. Edmund will be joining all the other casualties of battle.”

“Casualties? You act like you’ve had a hand in this.”

Warner’s lips drew back into a thin line. He gave her a knowing look. Then he said. “And you’re acting like a novice. You need to catch up, Carolyn. Stupidity doesn’t become you.”

“How many have you killed?” Her voice was a whisper.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never killed anyone.”

Carolyn knew he deliberately meant to hide behind semantics. Of course, he’d never personally killed anyone, but he didn’t deny issuing the orders. He wanted her to know the truth. “Your precious Council is a pit of vipers. You even turn on one another.”

“Politics is survival of the fittest. It eventually had to come to this, him or me. And it wasn’t going to be me.” Warner laughed. “Your problem, Carolyn, is that you’re too fucking naive, too fucking innocent.”

“Go to hell,” she said.

He ignored her response as he rose and opened the door. “Can I get some company in here?” he asked the agents who guarded the door.

***

The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the waiting room.

Warner nodded toward the door, then said to the agent reading a magazine beside him, “It’s show time.”

Moments later, the doctor walked into the room. “They told me you’d arrived, Mr. President.” He extended his hand to Warner. “I’m Dr. Jacobs.”

He turned to Carolyn. “Mrs. Lane.” She accepted the doctor’s handshake.

“I’m sorry, sir, but your father has passed away. Once he started having problems, it was like a chain reaction. All of his vital organs began to shut down, and we were unable to stop it. Finally, his heart gave out.”

“Do you know what caused his organs to fail?” Carolyn asked. Only she could see the hostility in Warner’s gaze that her question evoked.

“No, unfortunately, we have no idea. We can order an autopsy if you’d like.”

“Yes,” Carolyn said.

Warner shook his head as he turned to the doctor. “No, that won’t be necessary. My father lived a full life. It was his time. My wife’s just upset.” His expression was the epitome of grief.

Only Carolyn recognized the light of satisfaction in Warner’s eyes.

SEVENTY-NINE

Katherine met Carolyn at the entrance to the White House. “How’s Warner’s father?”

Carolyn felt out of sorts, confused and numb. Lately, she felt as though she existed in a continuous state of shock. She forced herself to focus on Katherine’s question. “He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Katherine said.

“Thank you.”

“What can I do?”

Carolyn shook her head. “I just need to rest. To be alone for a few minutes. Please ask the Navy mess steward to bring me a cup of almond tea in the Garden Room.”

“Certainly.”

Carolyn walked to the elevator and rode it up to the Garden Room of the White House. Nothing was as it seemed. She’d been duped. The men in her life had made a career out of using her and others for personal gain. At least, Warner had the balls to be blatant about it.

It was Mark who shocked and hurt her most. He’d double-crossed her for years, using her as a stepping stone to his own career, yet pretending to love her. She’d deal with him later, she decided. Fortunately, she’d had the foresight to align herself with another powerful player.

The Navy steward appeared almost immediately, carrying her tea on a tray. “Sugar or cream today, ma’am?” he asked, setting down the tray and then pouring her a cup.

“No, thank you. Plain is fine,” she responded.

He handed the beverage to her, then turned smartly and left.

Carolyn took a sip, then sat, putting her feet up on a wicker stool. Sun streamed through the windows, warming her body but evading her soul.

She heard a door open. “I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“It’s only me.” He walked in, taking a seat across from her.

“I’m so glad you’re back from your trip. Edmund has died.”

“I know.” He leaned forward. “I came to see how you’re holding up. Was everything all right with Warner?”

Carolyn set her teacup down. “It couldn’t have been any uglier.”

“I’m sorry.” He took her hands in his.

“He, Edmund, and Mark Dailey made a career out of eliminating any opposition.” Her voice was flat. “I’ve been set up. Mark Dailey screwed me royally. He’s been working with Warner all along.”

“I suspected as much.” His gaze held hers. “How did you find out?”

“Jack Rudly. He told Katherine that a man met him late one night at the Golden Gate Bridge and gave him my E-mail information. She, in turn, returned it to me along with Jack’s suspicions that the man was Mark. It was a short hop in deductive reasoning to figure it out. Dailey’s the only one who had access to my E-mail and password. Shit. I gave it to him myself. Warner confirmed it all.”

“I can no longer ignore what they’ve done to you, to me, to so many good men, and to our country. It’s time to act.”

Carolyn hesitated. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Do you trust me?”

Her eyes searched his. Then she nodded.

“That’s all you need to know.”

EIGHTY

May 9, 2001 – White House, Washington, DC.
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