Christian.'
Tappey nodded. Tappey was with him. Tappey understood. Tappey was now looking at Kennedy as a servant might look at a master who was about to ask of him a service that would bind them together forever.
'I guess I don't get anything in writing,' Tappey said.
'No,' Kennedy said. 'I am going to give you specific instructions right now.'
'Be very specific,' Theodore Tappey said, 'if you will, Mr. President.'
Kennedy smiled at the coolness of the response. 'Dr. Annaccone would never do it,' he said. 'A year ago I myself would never have dreamed of doing it.'
'I understand, Mr. President,' Tappey said.
Kennedy knew there could be no further hesitation. 'After Yabril agrees to take the test, I switch him to your CIA medical section. Your medical team does the scan. They give the test.' He could see the look in Tappey's eyes, the waver of doubt, not of moral outrage, but doubt of feasibility.
'We're not talking murder here,' Kennedy said impatiently. 'I'm not that stupid or that immoral. And if I wanted that done, I'd be talking to Christian.'
Tappey was waiting.
Kennedy knew he had to say the fatal words. 'I swear that I ask this for the protection of our country. Whether he's in prison or released, Yabril must no longer be a danger. I want your medical team to go to the extreme limit of the test. According to Dr. Annaccone, it was under that protocol that the side effects occurred. And complete memory was erased. A man without memory, without beliefs and convictions, is harmless. He will live a peaceful life.'
Kennedy recognized the look in Tappey's eyes-it was the look of one predator who has discovered another strange species its equal in ferocity.
'Can you assemble a team that will do that?' Kennedy asked.
'When I explain the situation to them,' Tappey said. 'They would never have been recruited if they were not devoted to their country.'
In the dark hours of that night, Theodore Tappey escorted Yabril to Kennedy's quarters. Again the meeting was short and Kennedy was all business. There was no tea, there were no civilities. Kennedy began immediately, he presented his proposal.
Kennedy said to Yabril, 'It is very important for America to know whether you were part of the conspiracy of the atom bomb. To erase its fears. It is important to you that your name be cleared in this particular matter. Now, it is true that you will go to trial for your other crimes and you will be sentenced to life imprisonment. But I will promise you that I will allow you to communicate with your friends in the outside world. Let us presume they will be loyal enough to create a hostage situation and demand your release. I would be inclined to agree to such a demand. But I can do that only if you are cleared of guilt in the atom bomb explosion… I see you have some doubts.'
Yabril shrugged and said, 'I find your offer too generous.'
Kennedy summoned all his strength to do what he had to do. He remembered Yabril charming his daughter, Theresa, before putting a gun to her neck.
Such charm would not work with Yabril. He could only persuade this man by convincing him of his own strict morality.
'I am doing this to erase fear from the mind of my country,' Kennedy said. 'That is my greatest concern. My pleasure would be to have you remain in prison forever. So I make this offer out of my sense of duty.'
'Then why, are you taking such pains to convince me?' Yabril asked.
'It's not in my nature to perform my duty as a matter of form,' Kennedy said, and he could see that Yabril was beginning to believe this too, believe that he was a moral man and could be trusted within that morality. Again he summoned the image of Theresa and her belief in Yabril’s kindness. Then he said to Yabril, 'You were outraged at the suggestion that your people engineered the explosion of an atom bomb.
Here is the chance to clear your name and the names of your comrades. Why not take it? Do you fear you will not pass the test? That is always a possibility-it occurs to me now, though I don't really believe it.'
Yabril looked directly into Kennedy's eyes. 'I don't believe that any man can forgive what I have done to you.' He was silent. He looked weary. But he was not deceived. It was the very essence of American corruption to make such a proposition to achieve an immoral political aim.
He knew nothing of what had happened in the last six months. He had been isolated for deep interrogations. Kennedy pressed on.
'Taking this test is your only hope of freedom. Provided you pass it, of course,' he said.
Kennedy sighed. 'I don't forgive you. But I understand your actions. I understand you feet you did what you did to help our world. As I do what I do now. And it is within my powers. We are different men, I cannot do what you do, and you, I mean you no disrespect, cannot do what I am doing now. To let you go free.'
Almost with sorrow, he saw he had convinced Yabril. He continued his persuasion, he used all his wit, all his charm, his appearance of integrity. He projected all the images of what he had once been, of what Yabril had known him to be, before he forfeited the whole of himself to convince Yabril. He knew he was finally successful when he saw the smile on Yabril's face was one of pity and contempt. He knew then that he had won Yabril's trust.
Four days later, after Yabril's PET medical interrogation, after the terrorist had been transferred back to FBI custody, he received two visitors. They were Francis Kennedy and Theodore Tappey.
Yabril was completely unrestrained, unshackled.
The three men spent a quiet hour drinking tea and eating little sandwiches. Kennedy studied Yabril. The man's face seemed to have changed. It was a sensitive face; the eyes were slightly melancholy but good-humored. He spoke little but studied Kennedy and Tappey as though trying to solve some mystery.
He seemed content. He seemed to know who he was. And he seemed to radiate such purity of soul that Kennedy could not bear to look at him and finally took his leave.
The decision about Christian Klee was even more painful to Francis Kennedy.
It had been an unexpected surprise for Christian. Kennedy asked him into the Yellow Room for a private meeting.
But Francis Kennedy opened the meeting quietly by saying, 'Christian, I've been closer to you than anybody outside my family. I think we know each other better than anyone else knows us. So you will understand that I have to ask for your resignation to be effective after the inauguration, at a time when I decide to accept it.'
Klee looked at that handsome face with its gentle smile. He could not believe that Kennedy was firing him without any explanation. He said quietly, 'I know I've cut a few comers here and there. But my ultimate aim was always to keep you from harm.'
'You let the nuclear device go off. You could have prevented it.'
Christian Klee very coldly considered the situation before him. He would never feel his old affection for Kennedy again. He would never believe in his own humanity, the rightness of what he had done. And suddenly he knew that he could never bear that burden. That Francis Kennedy must share responsibility for what had been done. Even privately.
Klee stared directly into the pale blue eyes he knew so well and searched for mercy there.
'Francis, you wanted me to do what I did. We both knew it was the only thing that could save you-I knew you could not make such a decision. It would have destroyed you, you were so weakened, Francis. Francis, don't condemn me, don't judge me. They would have removed you from power and you could never have borne that. You were very close to despair and I was the only one who could see it. They would have left your daughter unavenged. They would have let Yabril go free, they would have left America disgraced.' Klee paused, surprised to see that Francis Kennedy was looking at him so impassively.
Kennedy said, 'So you think I was after vengeance.'
'Not on Yabril,' Klee said. 'Maybe on Fate.'
'You can stay until after the inauguration,' Kennedy said. 'You've earned that. But you are a danger spot, a target. I have to make you disappear so I can sweep up the mess.'
He paused for a moment. 'You were wrong thinking I wanted you to do what you did, Chris. You were wrong to think that I was acting out of a desire for vengeance.'
