Capital Offense

deck of the catwalk. He seized convulsively.

Warner sucked desperately for air, fully aware that he was suffocating. He clawed at his face and throat, frantic to relieve the pressure building in his head. His eyes bulged, feeling as if they were going to explode. Noxious fumes seared his nostrils and dehydrated his lungs, prohibiting the oxygen from penetrating the delicate mucous membrane tissue.

He writhed in agony. Blood trickled from his nose, and ran down the back of his throat.

Next to him, a third Secret Service agent dropped to his knees, then fell forward in a spasm.

A high-pitched ringing began in Warner’s ears. It escalated to a thunder in his head.

He felt a pull on his arm. Someone dragged him toward the exit.

Blackness obscured his vision. His body burned for oxygen. His mind begged for relief. Even death. Anything to stop the pain.

Suddenly alarms pierced the air.

Huge fans sprang to life, ventilating the vapor-choked area.

EIGHTY-TWO

Washington, D.C.

Three days later, Carolyn stood quietly in the Oval office. She had just returned from the hospital where the president had been transferred. Bright light streamed through the bulletproof windows. The tragedy at the chemical plant seemed surreal, she thought.

Carolyn walked around the Resolute Desk. Like so many presidents before him, Warner had chosen to use the beautiful antique in the Oval Office. The light scent of lemon oil wafted up from the polished wood.

She carefully sat down on the leather chair. Lightly, she ran a finger over the smooth top of the desk, then gripped the arms of the chair, feeling the leather give beneath her touch. Carolyn closed her eyes. Compromise had become a way of life, a method for survival.

She twirled in the chair, letting her shoes slide off her feet as she spun around. The chair came to a stop facing the windows. Carolyn peered out onto the lawn from the highest office of the land. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. She’d compromised so much that she wondered if she’d finally lost her soul.

“Forgive me. Father, for I have sinned,” she whispered.

Richard Young strolled toward the Oval Office. He smiled. Soon he’d raise his right hand and repeat the oath for the office of the president of the United States. And the beauty of it was that the taxpayers, and the United Stated government, courtesy of Warner’s rubberstamp on Carolyn’s War On Drugs task force, would pay for his final rise to the presidency.

My God, it had been so simple. He’d had his own private army, thanks to Edmund Warner, and the Council. Now, he was the only general left standing. Soon to be the Commander-in-Chief.

Without knocking, Young entered the Oval Office.

***

Carolyn felt a kiss on her neck. She closed her eyes while wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Now you’re the acting president,” she said.

“Acting president?” he murmur red against her skin. “For the moment. By tomorrow at noon, I’ll be the president.” He kissed her shoulder between sentences. “A written declaration from myself, the Speaker, and the senate leader has already been submitted to Congress.”

“Will the doctors be done testifying?”

“They’ll be done by midnight tonight. No one can realistically expect Warner to recover. Once his condition is confirmed, the vote will be expedited. I expect it at eight tomorrow morning. Plans are underway for my swearing-in at noon.”

“Are you ready for this?”

“Am I ready?” he asked. “Of course I’m ready. I’ve been planning this since Warner took office.”

She stiffened with apprehension. The hair along the back of Carolyn’s neck prickled. She could no longer suppress the suspicions that plagued her since she’d learned of the chemical release. Suspicions that caused Richard’s words to keep replaying in her mind. “It’s time to take care of the problem.” And “Do you trust me?”

Carolyn spun around to face her lover, his breath touching her cheek as she did so. “Constitutionally-”

“The White House lawyers are following the letter of the law. After this hearing it’s up to Congress to decide if the president can perform his duties. The answer is obvious.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. Gauging her words, her questions. Wanting to know the truth, but afraid of the answer. If what she suspected was true, what would she do? What could she do?

“It doesn’t matter to you how you’ve achieved the office?” She knew she was baiting him, but she couldn’t help herself.

He held her gaze. “Why should it? I would have been president if Warner hadn’t caused my son’s accident. I owed him on two accounts. He injured my son and, by doing so, he stole the presidency from me. This was my destiny, not his. Mine.” He lowered his voice. “He got what he deserved.”

As vice president, Richard had possessed the necessary inside information, the kind of access to pull off the murders.

Her worst fears confirmed, Carolyn’s breath caught. “But to kill-”

Richard placed a finger over her lips. “This is a conversation we are not going to have. Not now, not ever.”

Her pulse quickened. Fear, sadness, guilt and a multitude of complex emotions collided within her.

Richard placed his hands on the tops of her arms. A lock of his dark hair fell across his forehead as he glanced down at her cleavage, then at her bare feet. He reached for the button on her shirt. “Looks like you started the job. Let me finish it.”

“Was this the only way? I…” Panic rose in her chest. With her palms, she pushed lightly against him.

He leaned back and gazed into her eyes. “You aren’t new to this game. The greater the prize, the higher the risk. I assure you that Warner understood the rules. Hell, he defined them.”

“I’ve never thought of this as a game,” she said, stalling for time. How could she have thought that she loved this man?

He shook his head as if scolding a wayward child. “You’ll feel better when I nominate you as vice president.”

Shock coursed through her. “What?”

“You’re the most popular political figure in our nation’s history. And Warner’s situation has turned you into an icon. I’ve turned you into an icon. And I can turn you into the first woman vice president of this country. I’ve already mentioned the idea at my earlier press conference.”

My God, was he serious?

“You’ll be able to write your own ticket. Mark my words. By tomorrow when your name is posed for the vice presidency, the country will go wild.”

“I take it that you’re spinning the ‘carrying on my husband’s legacy’ rhetoric?”

“Exactly.” He smiled as if she finally understood.

Kissing him, suddenly seemed abhorrent. He was a murderer. No different from the rest. What did she expect him to do? She let him do this. She encouraged him. But she never dreamt he meant murder, even when he said he was going to ‘take care of the problem.’

Carolyn understood machinations, but not murder. Naive, she was too fucking naive, just like Warner had said.

Richard pulled her close, pressing her cheek to his chest. “We’re a team now.”

She forced herself to relax in his arms, while her mind reeled. What was she going to do?