House bedroom suite. It was rare that meetings were held in Kennedy's private living quarters.
Jefferson, the President's private butler and Secret Service guard, served the large breakfast and then discreetly withdrew to the pantry room, to appear only when summoned by the buzzer.
Kennedy said casually, 'Did you know Jefferson was a great student, a great athlete? Jefferson never took shit from anybody.' He paused and said, 'How did he become a butler, Christian'
Christian knew he had to tell the truth. 'He is also the best agent in the Secret Service. I recruited him myself and especially for this job.'
Kennedy said, 'The same question applies-why the hell would he take a Secret Service job? And as a butler?'
Christian said, 'He has a very high rank in the Secret Service.'
Kennedy said, 'Yeah, but still.'
'I organized a very elaborate screening procedure for these jobs. Jefferson was the best man, and in fact he is the White House team leader.'
'Still,' Kennedy said.
'I promised him that before you left the White House I would get him an appointment in Health, Education and Welfare, a job with clout.'
'Ah, that's clever,' Kennedy said, 'but how does his r6sum6 look from butler to clout? How the hell can we do that?'
'His resume will read executive assistant to me,' Christian said.
Kennedy lifted the coffee mug, its white glaze adorned with stenciled eagles. 'Now, don't take this wrong, but I've noticed that all my immediate servants in the White House are very good at their jobs. Are they all in the Secret Service? That would be incredible.'
'A special school and a special indoctrination appealing to their professional pride,' Christian said. 'Not all.'
Kennedy laughed out loud and said, 'Even the chefs?'
'Especially the chefs,' Christian said, smiling. 'All chefs are crazy.'
Like many men, Christian always used a gag line to give himself time to think. He knew Kennedy's method for preparing to go on dangerous ground, showing good humor plus a piece of knowledge he wasn't supposed to have.
They ate their breakfast, Kennedy playing what he called, mother,' passing plates and pouring. The china except for Kennedy's special coffee mug was beautiful, with the blue presidential seal and as fragile as an eggshell.
Kennedy finally said almost casually, 'I'd like to spend an hour with Yabril. I expect you to handle it personally.' He saw the anxious look on Christian's face. 'Only for an hour and only for this one time.'
Christian said, 'What's to be gained, Francis? It could be too painful for you to bear.' There were lines in Kennedy's face that Christian had never noticed before.
'Oh, I can bear it,' Kennedy said.
'If the meeting leaks, there will be a lot of questions,' Christian said.
'Then make sure it doesn't leak,' Kennedy said. 'There will be no written record of the meeting and it won't be entered in the White House log. Now, when?'
'It will take a few days to make the necessary arrangements,' Christian said. 'And Jefferson has to know.'
'Anybody else?' Kennedy asked.
'Maybe six other men from my special division,' Christian said. 'They will have to know Yabril is in the White House but not necessarily that you're seeing him. They'll guess, but they won't know.'
Kennedy said, 'If it's necessary I can go to where you're holding him.'
' Absolutely not,' Christian said. 'The White House is the best place. It should be in the early hours after midnight. I suggest 1:OO A.M.'
Kennedy said. 'The night after tomorrow. OK.'
Yes,' Christian said. 'You'll have to sign some papers, which will be vague, but will cover me if something goes haywire.'
Kennedy sighed as if in relief, then said briskly, 'He's not a superman.
Don't worry. I want to be able to talk to him freely and for him to answer lucidly and of his own free will. I don't want him drugged or coerced in any way. I want to understand how his mind works and maybe I won't hate him so much. I want to find out how people like him truly feel.' 'I must be physically present at this meeting,' Christian said awkwardly. 'I'm responsible.'
'How about you waiting outside the door with Jefferson?' Kennedy asked.
Christian, panicked by the implication of this request, slammed down the fragile coffee cup and said earnestly, 'Please, Francis, I can't do that.
Naturally he'll be secured, he will be physically helpless, but I still have to be between the two of you. This is one time I have to use the vet– you gave me.' He tried to hide his fear of what Francis right do.
They both smiled. It had been part of their deal when Christian had guaranteed the safety of the President. That Christian as head of the Secret Service could veto any presidential exposure to the public. 'I've never abused that power,' Christian said.
Kennedy made a grimace. 'But you've exercised it vigorously. OK, you can stay in the room but try to fade into the Colonial woodwork. And Jefferson stays outside the door.'
'I'll set everything up,' Christian said. 'But, Francis, this can't help you.'
Christian Klee prepared Yabril for the meeting with President Kennedy.
There had, of course, been many interrogations, but Yabril had smilingly refused to answer any questions. He had been very cool, very confident, and was willing to make conversation in a general way-discuss politics,
Marxist theory, the Palestinian problem, which he called the Israeli problem-but he refused to talk about his background or his terrorist operations. He refused to talk about Romeo, his partner, or about Theresa Kennedy and her murder or his relationship with the Sultan of Sherhaben.
Yabril's prison was a small ten-bed hospital built by the FBI for the holding of dangerous prisoners and valuable informers. This hospital was staffed by Secret Service medical personnel and guarded by Klee's Secret Service special division agents. There were five of these detention hospitals in the United States: one in the Washington, D.C., area, another in Chicago, one in Los Angeles, one in Nevada and another on Long Island.
These hospitals were sometimes used for secret medical experiments on volunteer prison inmates. But Klee had cleared out the hospital in Washington, D.C., to hold Yabril in isolation. He had also cleaned out the hospital in Long Island to hold the two young scientists who had planted the atom bomb.
In the Washington hospital, Yabril lived in a medical suite fully equipped to abort any suicide attempt by violence or fasting. There were physical restraints and equipment for intravenous feeding.
Every inch of Yabril's body, including his teeth, had been X-rayed, and he was always restrained by a specially made loose jacket that permitted him only partial use of his arms and legs. He could read and write and walk with little steps, but could not make violent movements. He was also under twenty-four-hour surveillance through a two-way mirror by teams of Secret Service agents from Klee's special division.
After Christian left President Kennedy, he went to visit Yabril knowing that he had a problem. With two of the Secret Service agents he entered Yabril's suite. He sat on one of the comfortable sofas and had Yabril brought in from the bedroom. He pushed Yabril gently into one of the armchairs and then had his agents check the restraints.
Yabril said contemptuously, 'You're a very careful man, with all your power.'
'I believe in being careful,' Christian told him gravely. 'I'm like those engineers who build bridges and buildings to withstand a hundred times more stress than possible. That's how I run my job.'
'They are not the same thing,' Yabril said. 'You cannot foresee the stress of Fate.'
'I know,' Christian said. 'But it relieves my anxieties and it serves well enough. Now the reason for my visit: I've come to ask you a favor.'
At this Yabril laughed, a fine derisive laugh but a laugh of genuine mirth.
Christian stared at him and smiled. 'No, seriously, this is a favor it is in your power to grant or refuse. Now listen carefully. You've been treated well-that is my doing and also the laws of this country. I know it's useless
