Robert didn’t want to add to Fiona’s problems, but something gnawed at him. Something he needed to address.
He crossed the patio and slid through the back door into the kitchen, where Caroline, Fiona’s chef, prepared lunch for the federal agents.
Just beyond the kitchen, Robert admired the most elaborate family room he’d ever seen. Pool and ping-pong tables, a two-lane bowling alley, a vintage jukebox, arcade games, and just about every other toy a grown boy needed to stay entertained, surrounded a mammoth entertainment center with a sixty-inch plasma screen.
“I do love sports,” said Fiona, behind him. He turned around. “My father turned me into a sports fiend,” she continued. “I think he really wanted a boy.”
“He could’ve adopted me anytime,” said Robert, noting how lovely she looked in a sleeveless black sundress splattered with lime green flowers. “And you’re certainly no boy.”
The compliment drew a smile from Fiona, who blushed. “Thank you Mr. Veil. I didn’t think you noticed such things. You’re so caught up in your work.”
“You’re right. I do get caught up in my work. But I notice most things, Judge Patrick.”
“Please call me Fiona.”
“Ok Fiona, I do notice most things, especially the beautiful, and you should call me Robert.” Flirting with a potential Supreme Court Justice.
I’m definitely moving up in the world. She seems to be in a better mood.
This is as good a time as any.
“Fiona, we have a problem.”
“You mean it can get worse,” she said, laughing. “How could there possibly be more?”
“I think the reception tonight is a bad idea,” he told her. “You’ll be far too exposed and I don’t think you should take the chance.” Fiona’s light-heartedness melted away. “You want me to cancel on the President? The President of the United States!”
“Yes,” he said, firmly. “It’s just too dangerous. And it might be a good idea to send Jessica to stay with a relative, at least until the confirmation hearings are over.”
Fiona walked to the pool table, tears streaming down her face. Robert followed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright, I promise you. We just have to take extra precautions.”
“To hell with you and your precautions,” she said, knocking his hand from her shoulder. “I can’t wave this off, it’s crucial. Every member of the judiciary committee will be there.”
“They know what’s at stake. They’ll understand.”
“I’ll look like a coward,” she said, raising her voice an entire octave.
You’re supposed to watch out for me, not bury me.”
“I’m trying to protect you. Save your life.”
“I want you out of here,” she screamed. “Now!” She picked up the cue ball and hurled it into a trophy case. The glass exploded. Fiona marched into the den and slammed the door behind her. Several agents scrambled into the room. He put his hands up to let them know everything was okay.
“Is everything alright Mr. Veil?” asked Agent Sams, as the others panned out and inspected the damage.
“It was an accident. Everything is under control,” he told them.
Agent Sams gave Robert a knowing look, ordered his men outside, and holstered his gun. “Mr. Veil, this has been hard on all of us. But I think we need to keep things as routine for the judge as possible.” Robert understood. Secret Service agents were trained to protect, but were also skilled at making those they protected feel as normal as possible. He thanked the agent.
Agent Sams turned to leave, then hesitated. “It’s no secret most of us resent your involvement.”
“I know. It’s been a long standing feud.”
“Well, the boys in the trenches, myself included, want you to know we understand. We’ll be there when, and if, you need us.”
“That’s a change of heart for you.”
“The past is the past,” said Sams. “Let’s just say making sure the judge lives through this takes precedent. When this is over we can go back to status quo.” He smiled and left the room.
Thorne walked in and admired the smashed trophy case. “Well, I see you’ve got everything under control.”
“What about you? I’m sure you’ve got it all under control and Julie Rice is sitting outside in your car, with the missing evidence.” She shot him a go to hell expression, picked up the cue ball and tossed it on the pool table. “No,” she said. “I didn’t find a thing. In fact, I feel further away than when we started.”
“What about the cemetery brochures?”
“I checked the records at each, looked at the mausoleums of several.
Dry so far. Not a sign of Charlie anywhere.”
“That makes sense,” said Robert, aggravated. “After all, we’re looking for fly shit in pepper.”
“Not really,” said Thorne.
Robert moved in closer. He needed good news.
“Charlie knew he was going to contact us, to bring this whole thing out, right?”
Robert nodded.
“He was smart,” she continued. “A vile little fucker, but not stupid.
There has to be something we’re missing. A clue he knew we’d find if something went wrong.”
“You’re right,” Robert agreed. “We’ll have a look at the cemeteries again. The brochures are the key. The evidence is in one of them, I know it. After the reception we’ll check.” Robert cracked a smile.
“You were right about this one, huh?”
“Fool, don’t get me started.”
“Look at it this way,” said Robert. “It can’t get much worse.” Thorne cracked a smile. “Well, hold onto your butt’ cause it is.” She crossed her arms and stepped closer. “My friends at NSA tell me there’s been a stirring high in government circles. A revelation about President Kennedy’s assassination. They mentioned you, me, Charlie, and Rothschild.”
Robert stroked his chin. “Did your friends say how far up it goes?”
“To the top,” Thorne answered.
Robert’s face asked the question. You mean?
“President William Jefferson Claymore,” she said. “And get this.
The President met with Edward this morning. Something about his son Charleston’s bid for the White House. They weren’t sure, but my contacts say Edward left the meeting a little, how shall I say, sullen.
They also said Edward’s trying to get his hands on a large parcel of offshore real estate.”
Robert furrowed his brow. “Real estate?”
“In the Middle East,” Thorne clarified. “A very large oil field somewhere in the Middle East. The State Department’s about to piss their pants.”
“That’s not possible,” said Robert. “I don’t care how much money that arrogant asshole has. None of the Arab countries would ever sell an oil field to an outsider. Why would they? It’s their base of power.”
“Because this asshole’s son is about to become President. Word around the intelligence water cooler says Edward intends to orchestrate a mass exchange of nuclear technology in return.”
“Israel would never stand for it,” said Robert. “And if I recall, I’ve heard Rothschild speak out about the protection and security of Israel from the Palestinian threat.” He smirked.
“Obviously he’s full of shit,” Thorne answered. “You know how hypocritical these guys can be. Everything is a means to more. The real issue here is how this plays into our situation. With so much at stake, he’s gonna be hell warmed over.”
Robert paced the room. “Let’s rattle the trees. Confront Edward directly. Bluff. We’ll tell him we have Charlie on tape, and the evidence, and see what falls out. We expose the Kennedy plot, and the Middle East bullshit will take care of itself. His son won’t get close to the White House.”
“That’s your plan? Suicide?”
“It’s better than being sitting ducks,” said Robert. “We’ll smoke’em out. Rothschild’s not working alone and we need to find out who’s with him. It’ll buy us some time. He wants the evidence, that’s why he didn’t kill Charlie
