“And how did you learn this?”
“First from Governor Stanton’s own account of his birth, as related to him by family members and a staffer.”
“And how did you substantiate this account?”
“At the direction of Director Kinney, Assistant Director Smith and I traveled to Mexico, where we interviewed Mr. Pedro Martнnez, who was an employee of Martin Stanton, Senior, and who actually delivered the baby who is Martin Stanton, Junior, while the elder Mr. Stanton drove the car.”
“Did you find the account of Mr. Martнnez convincing?” Friedman asked.
“Yes. He confirmed every detail of the story Governor Stanton had told us and in a most convincing manner.”
“So we have an accurate account of events from the only person still living who knows every detail of that morning’s events?”
“That is correct.”
“And as a result of your investigation, you have determined beyond any doubt that Governor Stanton was born on United States soil?”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“I’ve no further questions at this time, Mr. Chairman,” Friedman said, then sat down.
The chairman turned toward Melfi. “Does the junior senator from Arizona have any questions for this witness?”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman, just one or two.” Senator Melfi leaned into his microphone. “Special Agent Bach,” he said, “are you aware of the testimony given this morning by retired Border Patrol Agent Martin Sheedy as to the actual birthplace of Governor Stanton?”
“Yes, sir, I have read the transcript.”
“And that is from direct testimony before this committee?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But your testimony is secondhand, isn’t it? This Mr. Martнnez has not appeared here today.”
“That is correct.” Melfi smiled and took a deep breath. “But,” she said, interrupting him, “I have a tape recording of the interview that we conducted with Mr. Martнnez three days ago, and I would be happy to play it for you.”
“Please do so, Special Agent Bach,” the chairman said, before Melfi could react.
Shelly removed a CD from her briefcase and handed it to a committee staffer, who inserted it into a machine and pressed a button. The voices were clear, as Pedro Martнnez told his story.
When the recording had ended, Shelly said, “Mr. Chairman, I spoke with Mr. Martнnez by phone this morning, and he has expressed his willingness to come to Washington and repeat his story in person should the committee ask him.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” the chairman responded.
“Mr. Chairman,” Senator Melfi cut in, “I have another question or two for Ms. Bach.”
“Proceed.”
“Special Agent Bach, you have told us of the investigation of Mr. Martнnez’s story, but have you also investigated the story of the retired Border Patrol agent, Mr. Sheedy?”
“Since we heard of Mr. Sheedy’s account of events only this morning,” Shelly said, “we have not had time to fully investigate his assertions.” Melfi was smiling again. “Except,” Shelly said, “that I spoke to the gentleman who was Mr. Sheedy’s commanding officer at the time, Mr. Ronald Wicks, who is now retired and living in San Diego. He told me that when Mr. Sheedy was in training, in December 1957, his account of the position of the U.S. Border Control Station in Mexico was accurate. However, he also told me that on January 1, 1958, both the Mexican and American Border Patrol stations were moved onto their respective soils, and that the U.S. station was several yards inside the United States. Mr. Sheedy’s first day on duty at the border was eight days later, and apparently, he was not aware of the change.”
Melfi sat, staring at her, speechless.
The chairman spoke up. “Mr. Melfi, do you have any further questions for this witness?”
“Ah, no, Mr. Chairman, not at this time.”
“Do you wish to recall your previous witness, Mr. Sheedy, for rebuttal testimony?”
“No, Mr. Chairman,” Melfi replied.
“Special Agent Bach,” the chairman said, “you are excused, with the committee’s gratitude.”
Shelly closed her briefcase, rose, and left the room, followed by the lens of every camera.
“We will continue with the questioning of Governor Stanton,” the chairman said.
22
Will, now up and dressed, switched off the TV in his suite, which had been tuned to C-SPAN. “That was very satisfying,” he said to Kitty. “Good work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Have you the seating chart for the dinner this evening?”
“Not yet, sir, they’re still working on it. All the guests have given at least one hundred thousand dollars to the Democratic National Committee, so they’re being very careful about the seating arrangements.”
“Did anyone besides Charlene Joiner give a million dollars?”
“Yes, sir. Helene Branley, the widow of William, former head of Branley Industries. She’s ninety years old.”
“Will she be at the dinner?”
“That’s in doubt, sir; she’s a bit frail.”
“I want her there, even if she’s in a wheelchair,” Will said, “or, if that doesn’t work for her, a gurney. And get me the chairwoman of the event on the phone.”
“Yes, sir.”
Back in his borrowed office at the White House, Martin Stanton made a cell-phone call to Sacramento.
“Hello?”
“Did you watch this morning?”
“Every minute of it. You were superb.”
“It did go well, didn’t it. What’s-his-name looked like a complete ass.”
“What’s-his-name certainly did.”
“How are you?”
“Horny.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’d love to. When?”
“In a few months.”
“Oh. I made a formal application to the potential employer yesterday.”
“Good. I expect I’ll hear about it soon, but I’ll have to keep the whole business at arm’s length. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course. It’s better for both of us.”
“I’ll be in town for a day, you know that?”
“Of course.”
“We have to be very careful while I’m there; we can’t act on our feelings.”
She sighed. “I know. You can depend on me.”
His phone began ringing. “Hang on. I’ve got a call.” He picked up the phone. “Yes?”
“The president for you, Governor Stanton,” the White House operator said.
