“I’m sorry, Mr. MacKay, I don’t believe it. It’s too far-fetched, too …” she shrugged, “… too extravagant. It’s politicians and I don’t trust politicians—any of them.”
“A lot of it has been checked, Mrs. Powell. His bank accounts and electoral contributions have been checked. It all tallies.”
“That can be forged or manipulated. That’s what the CIA is for, isn’t it?”
“Would you like to speak to Chief Justice Elliot?”
“No.”
“To Dempsey?”
“No.”
MacKay reached for the brown envelope and put it on his lap.
“You wouldn’t save him from this disgrace?”
“Good God, why should he listen to me?”
He looked at the flushed face and said softly, “Because you love him.”
She shivered as she stared back at him. But she shook her head.
“He wouldn’t believe me. He would say what I say. That it’s political mud-slinging.”
“There is other evidence that would be used.”
“Like what?”
He handed her the brown envelope.
“Like that. I’m sorry.”
She laid back the flap and took out the photographs. There were four, and she looked at each one a long time. Then she slid them back into the envelope, laid it on the table, and looked up at him.
“I guess those would be enough.” She said quietly.
MacKay sighed. “I’m terribly sorry that you had to be shown those things.”
“By courtesy of the CIA?”
“No, ma’am. Courtesy of the KGB. Dempsey provided the girl, and arranged the photography.”
“And who’s the lucky lady?”
“Dempsey’s girlfriend. One of them anyway.”
There was a knock on the door and her father put his head in.
“Would you two young people like a coffee?”
“No. It’s all right, Dad. We shan’t be long.”
She turned back to look at MacKay as the door closed.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to come back to Washington with me. See your husband. Show him Dempsey’s statement, Kleppe’s statement and the summary. Convince him that if he doesn’t resign he’s finished. Politically and privately. And that for the country it would be absolute disaster.”
“When?” She whispered.
“Tonight. We’ll go by helicopter straight to Washington.”
She shook her head. “It’s incredible. It’s like some terrible nightmare.” She sighed. “I’ll tell Dad that it’s to do with the inauguration. He can look after Sammy.” She turned and rested her hand on his arm. “It is all true, isn’t it? It’s not some terrible plot?”
“No. It’s true, I’m afraid. Don’t hurry.”
Half an hour later she was ready, with a small case and list of instructions for her father. MacKay took the list and wrote out a telephone number and handed it to the old man.
“If you need to contact Mrs. Powell, sir, just get that number and ask for me. James MacKay. Don’t hesitate to phone if you need to. It won’t be more than a couple of days.”
She kissed the old man and turned to wave as they walked down the drive. The snow was thick and there was plenty more to come.
The car slid and lurched as they set off for the airport and MacKay prayed that nothing would happen to change her mind.
The snow-ploughs were working on the main runway and the chopper was nowhere in sight. A yellow truck came from the terminal building and turned in front of them and led them through caverns of snow to the far perimeter. The Cessna was there and its cabin lights were on. As MacKay pulled up a man stamped over and opened the door.
“Instructions from Langley, sir. You’re to go in the Cessna to Floyd Bennett and the Navy will take you in one of their big choppers. It’s a virtual blizzard.”
The Navy gave them coffee and sandwiches at Floyd Bennett and then they walked across to the big Navy helicopter.
Two ratings were holding the metal steps and one of the crew reached down for Laura Powell. The captain came back to speak to them both.
“It’s gonna take us quite a time and I may have to land once or twice to check things out. That’ll be at Trenton, Philly and maybe Baltimore. I’ll keep you informed.” He looked at MacKay. “We’ve got a radio net to Langley. I think they’d like to talk with you if you’d come forward, sir.”
The big curved door closed as MacKay went through, and the long shadows of the rotor blades flickered across the snow. The radio operator pointed to a metal seat and leaned forward to turn a dial. He took off the headset and passed it to MacKay.
“They’re on. A guy named Harper.”
The voice was faint at the other end, the signal surging from loud to zero.
“MacKay. Can you hear me, MacKay?”
“Yes. I hear you.”
“What’s happening?”
“Everything as arranged.”
“When do you arrive?”
“Nobody knows. It’s the weather. It’ll be five or six hours.”
“Anything you want me to do?”
“Yes, fix a bed for my passenger.”
“OK. I’ll meet you at Dulles. Anything else?”
“Fix an appointment for the passenger for the evening.”
“I can’t hear. Fix an appointment when?”
“For the evening.”
“OK. See you.”
MacKay went back to the cabin and fixed their seat belts, and saw an Aldis light flashing Morse from the control tower. Then the helicopter lifted and the airfield was way below them, lost in the swirling snow.
“Maybe by this time tomorrow it will be all over and you can be back home.”
“And you’re sure there isn’t some other way?”
“Only for him to be confronted by Elliot, Bethel and Harper.”
“What if Logan sends me away?”
“Then others will take over. And that will be the end for him.”
“He isn’t a bad man, my husband, just weak. He was carried away by Andy Dempsey. He would have made a good lecturer. What do Elliot and Bethel think of him?”
“It sounds ridiculous but I don’t think anybody has had time to think about him as a man.”
“And you?”
“I’m an outsider. And I’ve never met him.”
“If he hadn’t been so American maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There used to be old films, nice films, where an ordinary man becomes President because he’s not a professional politician.
