“Come on, Michael, he’s been inside all day. He needs to blow off a little steam.”
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“Tim came by during lunch and took him for a jog, and believe me, I need to blow off a lot more steam than Duke does.” O’Rourke smiled and wrapped both arms around her waist. “Easy, big boy. You’ll get yours soon enough.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to.” Scarlatti stood on her toes and kissed him. A
second later Duke returned and dropped his blue ball at their feet. They ignored him for a while and continued to kiss until Duke let out a loud bark. Scarlatti let go of O’Rourke and grabbed the ball. She waved it in front of Duke’s mouth several times, then threw it down the hallway. O’Rourke patted her on the butt and started up the stairs. “I’m going to go fill the bathtub. When you’re finished with Duke, why don’t you grab a bottle of wine and come on up.”
Scarlatti smiled and nodded her head. When O’Rourke reached the second floor, he walked down the short hallway to his den. Standing in front of his selection of CDs, he ran his eyes over the thin plastic cases turned on their side. He stopped at one of Liz’s favorites. O’Rourke grabbed the Shawn Colvin CD, put it in, and hit play. The light by the window was on, and the shade was open. He walked over, turned off the light, and stood for a moment looking down at the dark street below.
The young Congressman reflected back to a hunting trip he had taken almost a year ago. A trip where he had divulged a dark and damaging secret involving Senator
Fitzgerald.
For the first time since the murders, Michael allowed himself to wonder if the person he had told that secret to was capable of taking the lives of Fitzgerald, Koslowski, and
Downs.
O’Rourke did not have to search deep-the answer was a resounding yes.
The assassin looked up at the shadow standing in the window on the second floor.
The windows of the car were cracked slightly so he could hear what was going on outside the car. For several minutes, he continued to scan the street, checking to see if there were any new people or cars he hadn’t seen on previous nights. He did so with minimal movement. Only his eyes darted back and forth, using the mirrors to look behind. After several minutes, he started the car and drove off. He had seen what he needed.
ROACH AND MCMAHON WERE SITTING IN THE OVAL OFFICE WAITING
FOR the President, Garret, and whoever else would be attending the meeting. It was almost twelve-fifteen, and no one had entered the room since a Secret Service agent had let them in at noon. The two FBI men were sitting in front of the fireplace, one on each couch. Neither had said a word since arriving. The President and Garret were up to something, and Roach wasn’t quite sure what it was, but until he figured it out, he would
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move with caution. At that same moment, the President, Garret, Hopkinson, Speaker
Basset, Senator Lloyd Hellerman, and a half dozen secretaries and aides were crowded around the large conference table in the Cabinet Room. They were scrambling to put together a media strategy that would help make the best of a dire situation. Most of the men in the room were aware of the nation’s overall distrust of politicians, but none of them had imagined how bad it had gotten.
Hopkinson was starting to get polling information back, and it was shocking. A poll conducted by USA Today showed that almost 40 percent of those questioned believed the country would be better off without Fitzgerald, Koslowski, and Downs. When Garret heard the news earlier, he had snickered, “Let’s see where those numbers are on
Monday.” The reason he was so confident was because his phone had been ringing off the hook since the President’s speech. Americans loved a conspiracy.
They would eat up the idea that the letter was sent to confuse the FBI, and that the murders were committed in connection with a dark plot.
The seeds had been planted, and the notorious rumor mill of D.C. and the media would take care of the rest. Speaker Basset and Senator Hellerman had even taken the bait. They had both arrived early this morning and stopped by Garret’s office to ask him if anything further had been learned about the dubious authenticity of the letter. Garret told them that even he was being kept in the dark-that the agency that had provided them with the information was taking careful steps to research the lead. Garret assured them that as soon as he found anything out, they would be the first to know. One of the secretaries came down to the end of the table where the President and Garret were sitting and reminded them, for the third time, that Director Roach was waiting in the Oval Office.
The President looked at his watch. It was 12:20 P.M. “Stu, twenty minutes is long enough for them to wait.”
Garret nodded his head. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Garret told the others they would be back and to continue without them. He and the President left and stopped by
Mike Nance’s office before heading on to the Oval Office. The President entered his office first, followed by Garret and then Nance. Roach and McMahon rose to meet the commander in chief. The President walked over to both men and shook their hands.
“Gentlemen, I apologize for being late, but things have been extremely hectic around here. Please be seated.” All five men sat down, and the President continued, “Well, has the FBI found anything out since yesterday?”
“We have the preliminary autopsy reports on all three bodies,” Roach said. “Agent
McMahon has brought copies and is prepared to go over them with you, if you wish.”
Garret leaned back and crossed his legs.
