their home states.
With the obvious security issues arising from the string of assassinations, it was decided that it would be best to have Basset join his three fallen comrades rather than have a separate ceremony in two days. After a short elevator ride to the main level of the
Capitol, the gurney was discarded and the special detail carried the coffin down the hallway, across the cold, stone floor, and laid it on the rectangular, black catafalque. The four flag-draped coffins sat underneath the center of the Capitol’s large dome, each one pointing outward, marking the four major points of the compass. It was almost 10 A.M
and with the exception of a military color guard, the rotunda was void of all people.
One by one, the families were given a private moment alone, to mourn over the coffin of their deceased relative. Each family took about half an hour, and at noon the media was let in and allowed to start coverage of the event. The cameras started to roll, and the
Senators and Congressman filed in to pay their last respects. Just after 2 P.M the legislators were shuffled off into secure areas of the Capitol, and the doors were opened to the public. A steady stream of peoplefiled by the coffins until just after midnight, when the crowd started to thin.
Senator Erik Olson was sitting in his study trying to decide if he should go against the wishes of the President, the FBI, the Secret Service, and his wife. It was almost 1 A.M
and he couldn’t sleep.
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Too much was on his mind. He knew that the right and honorable thing to do would be to walk behind the caissons as the procession of coffins were moved from the Capitol to the White House. The daring daylight assassination of Basset had made every
Congressman and Senator realize just how vulnerable they all were. Basset had been given more protection than any of his colleagues, and they’d still gotten to him.
Not only did they get to him, but they got away without a trace. The FBI and the
Secret Service were not taking any more chances, and the politicians who were still alive had become extremely agreeable in the wake of the recent events. Earlier in the day, when the final security arrangements were being made for the funeral procession, it had been decided by the Secret Service and the FBI that no one, not even family members, would walk in the open, behind the caissons. None of the senior Senators and
Congressman had argued. They were not eager to join the ranks of the fallen four. But for a variety of reasons, Olson felt that he should walk behind the caskets. First of all, it was a tradition that should be kept and honored, and secondly, he felt that someone needed to show that the government of the United States was not afraid. Someone needed desperately to look like a leader. Every politician in the country was cowering behind locked doors and bodyguards. Olson couldn’t blame them, especially the ones who had been unscrupulous during their time in Washington. The Senator from Minnesota had gotten along with all four of the dead men, but he held no false illusions about their character. They were four of the most unethical politicians in Washington. Olson was a historian by training and was more worried about the broad implications these murders would have on the future of American politics. History was the great teacher, he had always told his students. History repeated itself for many reasons. Mostly because people really hadn’t changed all that much over the course of modern civilization, and more so because history set precedents and gave people ideas. Olson did not want what was happening in his country to become a precedent. The events that had started the previous
Friday needed to be stopped and dealt with in a swift and just manner. There was no room in a democracy for terrorism.
Someone needed to stand up; someone needed to act like a leader.
Someone needed to walk behind those caissons tomorrow and show that he was not afraid. The silver-haired Swede pictured himself walking alone on the slow, one-mile journey and wondered if any of his colleagues would have the courage to join him. He started to mentally scroll through a list of names, searching for someone who would be bold enough to accompany him.
After a brief moment, a name popped into his head and he went no further. Reaching for his phone, he dialed the number. Michael patted Duke on the head and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. As he picked up a stack of mail, he was relieved to see Liz’s purse sitting by the phone. O’Rourke quickly thumbed through the mail and then set the entire stack back on the counter. He yanked his tie off and started to unbutton his shirt as he headed for the stairs. Duke followed, and Michael stopped in the front entryway and said good-night to his canine buddy. It was late, he was tired, and he needed to talk to
Liz. Guilt was starting to weigh heavily on his shoulders. The young Congressman
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plodded up the stairs and into his bedroom. Liz was sitting on her side of the bed reading a book and wearing one of his gray University of Minnesota Tshirts. Michael smiled at her and sat down on the edge. Liz set her book down and took off her glasses.
“You look like crap, honey.”
“Thanks,” O’Rourke grimly responded. He dropped his face into his hands and groaned. Rubbing his back, Liz asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Without raising his head he said, “I’d like to tell you about it but I don’t think I can.”
Liz threw off the covers and swung her bare legs off the bed. As Liz pulled him upright and took his hands away from his face, Michael was cursing himself for the way he had phrased his last comment.
The worst thing you can say to a reporter is that you know something but you can’t talk about it. “What is bothering you?” asked Liz.
Michael turned and kissed her on the lips. She returned his kiss for a second, then grabbed him by the chin and pushed him back. With her most serious look she repeated, “What is bothering you?” Deep down inside, Michael wanted to tell her, but he had to be careful. This would have to be handled in stages. “What would you say if I told youI
think I know who the assassins are?” Liz opened her eyes wide.
