CHAPTER 11
Washington, D.C.
PRESIDENT CONRAD MICHAELS HOVERED OVER THE WET BAR in his lawyer’s office and pondered his choice of drink. After carrying on a rigorous debate in his head for several seconds, he finally settled on scotch over vodka. In the moment, his feelings toward the Russians were strong—and they weren’t positive in any way.
“It’s not even ten o’clock, Mr. President,” Michaels’s lawyer, Stan Fullbright said with a disapproving look. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“I have a few other ideas, but none of them are as good as this one,” Michaels said, pausing to shrug. “Well, at least none of the other good ideas I have are legal.”
“You could stand to keep the law on your side at this point,” said Fullbright, who rubbed his protruding stomach. “Playing by the rules is your best option moving forward.”
Michaels stared at his drink before taking a long pull. He sauntered around the room, stooping over periodically to inspect the pictures dotting Fullbright’s wall. They were covered with government dignitaries from both the U.S. and abroad. The lawyer had become quite a political player over the years and was skilled at winning cases that the press deemed slam dunks in favor of the prosecution.
“You met Putin once?” Michaels asked, pointing at a photo depicting Fullbright and the Russian president together.
“I certainly didn’t Photoshop him in,” Fullbright said before he sighed. “Can we sit down and talk about your situation?”
“Did you like Putin? Did you find him trustworthy?”
Fullbright ignored him. “Do I need to remind you that I bill by the hour? And that I’m also the most expensive lawyer in Washington?”
“All right, you win,” Michaels said as he took a seat across the table from Fullbright. “”What do you want to talk about?”
“I need to know how difficult my job is going to be here,” Fullbright said. “You were a lawyer once. Is this case winnable?”
“Since it’s not exactly a case, I absolutely think it’s winnable. All we have to do is show the committee that there was no wrongdoing on my part.”
“If there was, it won’t be easy to bend the truth in your favor. The press is going to have a field day if we don’t stick to a tight narrative that leads no room for interpretation.”
Michaels drained the last of his scotch and set the glass down hard on the table. “I’ll let you handle that as I prefer to keep my mouth shut.”
Fullbright shook his head. “No, you’re going to have to talk to the special investigator. If you don’t, you’ll look guilty.”
“I don’t want to perjure myself or give my political rivals ammunition in the next election.”
“Be honest with me, Conrad,” Fullbright said, studying Michaels carefully. “Is there a smoking gun I need to be worried about?”
“Of course not. This whole thing is a witch hunt. Some people just want to feel good about themselves—and they think ruining the political fortunes of a rival will do that. They’re little people, and I have no patience for them.”
“Whether you have patience or not, you need to demonstrate some as we move through this process. But you’re going to have to put something on record.”
“A public record?”
“I’ll do my best to file a motion with the committee to make sure anything you say to the special investigator is suppressed publicly and sealed. Can you live with that?”
“I guess I’ll have to.”
Fullbright opened a folder and scanned several documents before continuing. “So, let’s get to the biggest issue here—suppression of evidence. There’s a recorded conversation between you and a Mr. Harry Bozeman where you discussed framing a U.S. operative if he didn’t go along with your covert plan.”
“We’ll argue that the recorded conversation was taken out of context,” Michaels said. “We were discussing issues of national security and methods of taking down a known terrorist who leads one of the most dangerous cells in the world, something we actually accomplished, by the way.”
“I’m not sure everyone is going to see it that way.”
“Context is everything. And it’ll be a difficult case to make against me.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I happen to know the only portion of that recorded conversation remaining is what was on that streamed Facebook video that slimy reporter ambushed me with.”
“How do you—oh, never mind. It’s probably best I don’t know.”
“Even with lawyer-client privilege?”
Fullbright took a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s mostly so I can sleep at night.”
Michaels rolled his eyes. “You’re so noble, Stan.”
“I don’t have to take this case, Conrad. In fact, it’s bad for business in the long run. Defending an unpopular sitting president for committing a crime against the republic? That’s hardly my best career move.”
“But we will win, and you’ll be regarded as the hero—and there will be no end to the disgraced Washington bureaucrats beating down your door the moment they screw up. Perhaps you’ll be able to increase your hourly rate after this.”
“Fine, but you must come up with a reasonable explanation for that recorded conversation between you and Bozeman. And it’s got to be one that can be public.”
“I’ll come up with something. Besides, it shouldn’t take much. If President Clinton could beat a hearing by clarifying the definition of the word ‘is,’ I figure I should be all right.”
Fullbright gathered the papers and stuffed them back into a folder. He then opened another one.
“Okay, on to the next order of business, the list of those the committee has requested to testify. It’s a lengthy list, but I happen to know almost every one of them plans to refuse. Congress can’t compel them, and they all have legitimate excuses. The ones who can’t make it to the hearing but have agreed to meet with the special investigator all plan to plead the fifth on every question, so I think you’re in the clear there.”
“Excellent,” Michaels said. “How did you? Oh, never mind. It’s probably best that I don’t know.”
Fullbright cut a sideways glance at Michaels before
