“I will make sure your ass is covered,” Lehman assured him. “Haven’t I deflected all hint of blame thus far?”
“I don’t know what you’ve done so far, but I’m worried. I don’t want to become the scapegoat for a national tragedy. I need a comfort margin.”
“You need a prescription for Xanax, sounds like to me.”
Gatwick could feel his anger rising. Nothing was more irritating than the feeling that you weren’t being taken seriously-especially when there was so much to be taken seriously. “It’s not just me, Carl,” he said pointedly. “Both our necks are sticking out here.”
Lehman stiffened. “I haven’t done anything I’m ashamed of.”
“That’s beside the point. If Zimmer talks enough about a conspiracy in the Secret Service-”
“-then absolutely no one will listen. There has never been a traitor in the Secret Service. Never.”
“So I told him. But it didn’t quell his suspicions. He’s been watching media tapes of the incident, looking for clues to what really happened. He volunteered for the investigation just to get access to the files.”
“You don’t know that. He might be motivated by a sincere desire to catch the killers.”
“Bullshit. He’s after me, period. This morning he was trying to access my personnel files. Didn’t have the security clearance, but I got a flash alert informing me of the attempt. So what are we going to do about it?”
Lehman smiled. Gatwick sensed he was trying to be reassuring, but somehow, when he was cowering in shadows and wearing that ridiculous trench coat, it just didn’t come across. “What we have to do, Agent Gatwick, is make sure this amendment passes.”
“I don’t see how that gets Zimmer off my back.”
“I do. Get this amendment passed and I’ll be able to do anything I want.”
“Didn’t the amendment get out of committee?”
“Yes, but we don’t know what will happen on the floor of the Senate. Unofficial polling shows those in favor and those against are about equal in number.”
“Just get that Kincaid kid to cry again. The rest of the Senate is sure to fall into line.”
“I’m a little worried about that young senator, actually.”
“Why? Didn’t he do exactly what you wanted him to do?”
“Yes, but he’s conflicted.”
“He told you this?”
“He didn’t have to. I’ve been around a long time. You don’t get far in law enforcement or politics if you can’t read a man’s face, and that man still has his doubts.”
“Well, as long as he keeps them to himself…”
“Yes, but will he?” Lehman batted a finger against his lips. “A change of heart at the wrong moment could throw a monkey wrench into our plans. We need some sort of insurance. Some way to make sure he plays ball until the Senate approves this amendment.”
Gatwick took a step backward. “Wait a minute, Carl-I don’t need to be taking any more chances.”
“You don’t need to piss me off, either,” Lehman said harshly. “Not if you like doing what you do and living like you live. And keeping your secrets secret.”
Gatwick’s nostrils flared. Lehman was using him. But what could he do about it? At this point, there was no turning back. “What is it you had in mind?”
“I’m willing to leave that to your discretion,” Lehman said, his eyebrows dancing. “But you know, the man is a newlywed…”
27
Ben sat in the front living room of the apartment-what Christina called her purple-and-pink paradise-and wondered where she was. First she slammed the door on him; then, last night, she didn’t come home at all. That had happened before. She was one of the most industrious staffers in the Senate, and her constant socializing and gossiping and temperature-taking and all the other things that made her invaluable often kept her so late that she simply slept in the office. But it couldn’t be a coincidence that she had managed to have absolutely nothing to do with him since he came out publicly in favor of the amendment. And now that it was out of committee and most of the pundits said it was due to his testimony Well, he wasn’t surprised she wasn’t here tonight.
But he wished to God she were.
Maybe if he took her on that honeymoon they never managed to have. Just as soon as the amendment got through the Senate, he could whisk her off to France. First class, maybe. He couldn’t afford first class. Come to think of it, he couldn’t afford to go to France at all. Weren’t senators supposed to be rolling in dough? Where were all those under-the-table bribes and overseas junkets when you needed them? Maybe if he called a few lobbyists…
But he suspected Christina would not go for that.
Maybe if he used his newfound clout to get that Alaskan Wilderness Bill passed. Not that he actually had any clout, as far as he knew, but he should. He was doing a favor for the president. Shouldn’t the president now do a favor for him? Might be a stretch-President Blake had been very vocal in his opposition to the bill for the last two years-but still, wouldn’t that make Christina happy? She’d been fighting for that one since the day they arrived in Washington. Maybe if he got really tight with Senator DeMouy…
But he suspected even that would not make Christina forget what he had done.
And for that matter, neither would a million-dollar contribution to her favorite charity, an autographed set of Red Dirt Rangers CDs, horseback riding with Prince Charles, a diamond-studded hair band, a silver-plated harmonica, the ability to warp the space-time continuum, or lunch with Madonna. And he didn’t have any of those things, either.
Didn’t matter. Wouldn’t work.
Which made her angrier? he wondered. The fact that he supported a proposal she so adamantly opposed or the fact that he had done it without consulting her first? After all, he didn’t have that much time to think about it. The president’s chief of staff had told him to call before midnight, and midnight was only minutes away when he finally called, and if he had stopped to call Christina first, time might have run out and And these were all excuses. He hadn’t called Christina first because he knew what her reaction would be. He chickened out.
Now he was paying the price. He just hoped the assessment wasn’t permanent. He had longed to be with her for so long. To think that he had screwed it all up so quickly ate at him like a two-foot ulcer. Could she ever forgive him? Or was this marriage over before it had even begun?
The doorbell rang, thank God. He knew it wasn’t Christina-she was hardly likely to ring the bell before entering her own apartment-but whoever it was, they would provide some distraction from his own morose musings.
He pushed himself out of the easy chair and opened the door.
His first thought was: I didn’t know Victoria’s Secret sold door-to-door.
She was a short woman, but what she had, she had in great amplitude. As he stood there trying to think of something intelligent to say, her overcoat dropped off her shoulders and fell to the floor, revealing the entire outfit, what there was of it. The corset was black; the frilly edges of the teddy were white. The cups beneath her breasts barely covered the nipple and the backside revealed more bottom than most hospital gowns.
She tossed her blond hair behind her head and smiled. “See anything you like, Senator?”
Ben swallowed. “I-I think you-you m-must have the wrong apartment.”
“I don’t think so. Pucker up, you handsome hunk of manhood.”
She strode toward him with a determined and confident certainty. Ben held up his hands, but she brushed
