Oath of Office

“Because I read your interview in Time magazine where you talked about knowing him since you were children, and you likened him to your own father. I did extensive research about you. From what I’ve learned, I know that the comparison to your father isn’t something you would have made lightly.”

Darlene was impressed. “Just so I’m clear-you want my help to find this girl, and then I’m to arrange a meeting between her and my husband. I would be doing this to convince my husband that Russ Evans was framed and must be reinstated.”

“That’s correct. I also suspect he would have to arrange some sort of a presidential pardon for Margo.”

At that moment, a small pink rubber ball arced out from the bathroom window and bounced several times across the alley before disappearing under a car.

“That’s the signal from Kim,” Darlene said. “She and Nicole are in the bathroom. I have to get back inside. She set her foot on the bottom step, then paused. “How should I contact you?”

Double M reached into his jacket again and took out a cell phone. “This is a disposable cell phone. Nobody will be able to trace your call to me, and you won’t be able to trace me from it, either. There’s one recent call on it. Ring that number only when you have something to report. Afterwards, please completely destroy the phone.”

“Whatever it is you’re going through seems agonizing,” Darlene said. “I’m truly sorry.”

“I knew you’d understand,” the man said. “I’ll take care of the ladder.”

Darlene ascended the remaining steps, gripped the window’s edge, and silently hoisted herself back into the bathroom.

Victor Ochoa approached Darlene as she and Kim were exiting the theater. “May I speak with you a moment in private?” he asked.

Kim had been talking nonstop about the movie, in effect allowing her to transmit a plot summary to Darlene, just in case.

“Of course, Victor,” Darlene said.

Ochoa escorted her to a secluded corner of the theater.

“What’s up?” Darlene asked. Her heart was a jackhammer in her chest. She knew Victor well enough to sense that something was very wrong. His expression did nothing to dispel that notion.

“Listen, I’m on your side,” the swarthy agent said evenly. “I have one job to do and that’s to keep you safe.”

“And you do it well,” Darlene said, trying not to stammer.

“Not when you sneak through a bathroom window to rendezvous with a tall muscle man in the alley behind the theater.”

“Victor, I-”

“It’s not my business to know all the details of your life,” he said. “But it is my business to know where you are and who you’re with. Look, I’m not your husband and I’m not here to judge you. I’ve worked for three First Ladies before you. I trusted them and they all trusted me. But if I find you’re not trusting in me anymore, if I find you’re playing games that are keeping me from doing my job, then my allegiance will have to go someplace else. Is that understood, Madam First Lady?”

Darlene felt her throat tighten. “You won’t tell my husband?”

“Not if you stop trying to sneak away.”

Darlene squeezed Ochoa’s arm. “I’ll explain to you soon,” she vowed.

“Not necessary, but I’d appreciate that.”

“I’m lucky to have you.”

“No, that guy you met back there is lucky,” the graying agent replied. “If I hadn’t seen that envelope come out of his pocket, he would have developed a new orifice or two in his body.”

CHAPTER 27

Just past the sign for Kings Ridge, the Caddy made a sudden left turn onto a poorly lit road-two narrow lanes, no dividing line, few cars. Cap was forced to drop back until their quarry’s taillights were red peas in the mounting darkness. They continued west into the day’s final blush of sunlight.

“Getting tougher,” Lou said to Cap.

“The only thing we have going for us is that there’s no reason for them to suspect anyone’s tailing them.”

“If this is what Virginia’s like,” Notso chimed in, “I choose our hood any day.”

“I hear there’s a collection bein’ taken to send you out here permanently,” George said.

A mile … then another. Now there were no cars coming the other way, and only darkness between them and the glowing red peas. They bounced across a railroad track and rolled past several white-painted corrugated hangars with NO TRESPASSING signs mounted to the outside walls.

Cap cut the Chevy’s headlights, plunging the car into darkness. The blackening sky made it difficult to follow the winding stretch of road that snaked around low hills and paralleled a small rill on the left. Soon, though, the curves straightened out and the landscape turned flat again. On both sides now, there was nothing but corn.

“So, Welcome, where do you think they’re headed?” Cap asked.

“No idea,” Lou replied.

“Is this the way to John Meacham’s house?”

“No. We’d be headed in the opposite direction if that’s where they were going. It looks like all there is out here is farmland.”

Notso pointed out the window. “Zat wheat?” he asked.

“Is wheat green, Notso?” George answered. “Do you even know what wheat looks like?”

“I know what wheat look like,” Notso said, folding his arms across his chest in a pout. “Look, man, it’s dark outside. Quit ridin’ me.”

“Well, it’s corn, you big goof. Acres and acres of fuckin’ corn.”

Lou glanced out at the stalks on both sides of the road, rippling in the light night breeze like a vast emerald ocean.

Cap decelerated. “I think they’ve turned left,” he said.

He waited a few seconds before catching a flicker of the sedan’s taillights through a path cleared in the corn. A minute later, he made the same turn. Tailing the Caddy was becoming more challenging.

“All this corn is making me hungry,” Notso said, rubbing his ample belly.

George turned around. “Seriously, Brite,” he said. “Could you please talk about somethin’ other than food.”

“Jes sayin’ I’m hungry is all,” Notso answered. “Why y’all buggin’ me so bad? Can’t a man want to eat?”

“No!” Cap and George said in unison.

For a few minutes, they rode in silence.

“Anyone ever hear the expression ‘knee high by the Fourth of July’?” Lou asked.

“I have,” Cap said. “It has to do with corn. My gramps used to grow it in a corner of the backyard of his place in North Carolina. It means something like if the stalks weren’t knee high by July fourth, the crop would be bad.”

“Exactly,” Lou said. “That’s what I remember, although I have no idea who I heard it from. Well, it isn’t July yet, but that corn is certainly way higher than my knees.”

Cap turned left again, this time onto a gravelly dirt road. The stalks on each side towered upward like a ghostly army. Rocks, coupled with potholes and the gathering darkness made driving without headlights tricky. Lou felt every jolt of the low-riding Prizm as it struggled to negotiate the uneven terrain.

George pointed up ahead. “They’re turning again,” he said.

“I got ’em,” Cap replied, swinging the car onto an even narrower dirt road that was carved into a seemingly endless expanse of corn.

“You sure you can find your way out of here?” Notso asked, looking around anxiously.

“There’s always a way out,” Lou said, patting the hefty man’s shoulder.