'But what if something is very wrong?' Hood asked.
'Explain.'
'What if this is a rogue operation of some kind?' Hood asked.
'You're out of your mind,' the president said. He appeared stunned.
'Christ, Paul, I've known most of these people for fifteen, twenty years--they're good friends!' Hood understood. And all he could think to say was,'
'Et to. Brute?'
'The president looked at him.
'Paul, what are you talking about?'
'When Julius Caesar was killed by republicans in the senate, it was his closest and oldest friend who organized the assassination,' Hood said. The president looked at him. A moment later, he told Mrs. Leigh to forget the call. Then he shook his head slowly.
'I'm listening,' the president said.
'But this better be good.' Hood knew that. What he didn't know was where to begin. There was a possible conspiracy and possible mental illness. Perhaps both. He decided to start at the beginning and work his way through.
'Mr. President, why did Fenwick call you last night?' he asked.
'He had finished a day of meetings with ambassadors at the Hay-Adams,' the president said.
'There was strong opposition to the intelligence initiative from several key governments. He was supposed to let me know if and when he finally pulled it all together.'
'Mr. President,' Hood said, 'we don't believe that Jack Fenwick was at the Hay-Adams Hotel last night. The call he made to you was apparently routed to the hotel from somewhere else.'
'From where?' the president asked.
'I don't know,' Hood admitted.
'Perhaps he was already in New York. Was Fenwick also liaising with the CIOC?'
'No,' the president said.
'Getting approvals from the Oversight Committee was the responsibility of Fenwick's deputy, Don Roedner, and Red Gable on this end.' Hood didn't know Roedner any better than he knew Gable. He didn't even know Gable had a nickname.
'Sir,' Hood continued, 'last night, when you thanked Senator Fox for budgeting Mr. Fenwick's initiative, that was the first she'd heard about it.' President Lawrence froze, but only for a moment. His expression changed slowly. He looked very strange for a moment, both twenty years older and like a lost boy. He sat back.
'Gable wouldn't go behind my back on something,' the president said faintly.
'He wouldn't. And if he did, I'd read it in his face.'
'When was the last time you saw him?' Hood asked. The president thought.
'Friday, at the cabinet meeting.'
'There were a lot of people there, a lot of issues on the table,' Hood said.
'You might have missed it. Or maybe he was snookered by the NSA.'
'I can't believe that, either,' the president said.
'I see,' Hood said.
'Well, if Fenwick and Gable aren't rogue, there's only one other option I can think of.'
'Which is?' Hood had to be careful how he said this. He was no longer floating ideas about the president's staff but about the president himself.
'Maybe none of this happened,' Hood said.
'The UN initiative, the meetings with foreign governments--none of it.'
'You mean I imagined it all,' the president said. Hood didn't answer.
'Do you believe that?' the president asked.
'I do not,' Hood replied truthfully. If nothing else, there was the rerouted phone call from the Hay-Adams, and the president didn't imagine that.
'But I won't lie to you, Mr. President,' Hood went on.
'You do seem tense, guarded, distracted. Definitely not yourself.' The president took a long breath. He started to say something and then stopped.
'All right, Paul. You've got my attention. What do we do next?'
'I suggest we proceed under the assumption that we've got a serious problem,' Hood said.
'I'll continue the investigation from our end. We'll see what we can find out about the Iranian connection. Check on what else Fenwick has been doing, who he's been talking to.'
'Sounds good,' Lawrence said.
