Death of an Intern (26 page)

F
rankie awoke a little before her alarm would have gone off at 5:30, and reveled in her warm and blissful memories of the night before. She found a ménage à trois shared with Rick to be extraordinarily special. They were like one person in two bodies. Lisa's sensitivity had made the experience even more remarkably delicious. She hoped for a repeat performance.

She thought of how she had helped bring Rick back to life. Both she and her twin have a strong sexual drive. His wife had been so good for him. Linda may have looked like a Royal Doulton bone china figurine, gorgeous to look at, almost too fragile to play with, but that wasn't Linda on the inside. She had the fire of a Spanish flamenco dancer in heat. She was a much greater loss to Rick than anyone would ever imagine.

Frankie loved him, knew his needs, and would do anything for him except copulate. There had been no way she could provide someone for him in their hometown. She also knew, though, that for as long as he was unfulfilled sexually, he would stay in his funk.

She talked to him. He wanted no attachments. No love. Just sex.

When he returned to Washington, Frankie explored possibilities with a couple of her lesbian friends who had been with men. She knew both had crushes on her, and she would be happy to repay the favor. It was a patch job at best, but it helped Rick.

George Manchester commented on how lethargic Rick still seemed to be. She shared Rick's needs with him, and true to his nature, he came through with flying colors. Manchester confided he used a particular service on a regular basis when at his Watergate apartment and that he could easily arrange something.

The women George recommended were high-class and high-priced call girls, but he never asked to be reimbursed. Rick used both George's Watergate apartment and Frankie's townhouse. He preferred and used Watergate more often because it was convenient to his Arlington home where Tracy and his parents lived.

It was perfect while he was a senator. As Vice President, he acquired a permanent escort. George came to the rescue again, suggesting Frankie hire a couple of his son's actresses for lower level staff work. He would make sure they had brains, big boobs, office skills, and be able to pass a background check. Frankie could supervise the whole thing. In effect, become Rick's Madam.

She had hoped Beth would help out in the transition period. She had dated guys before turning lesbian. She and Beth had had two great years together, and Beth liked Rick. She approached Beth, who had already begun work for her. She was amenable. However, after a few times with Rick, something went wrong and Beth revolted. Again, George came through big time. He had felt responsible for the problem and did well by Beth, who also wanted to work elsewhere. Frankie helped her with that.

Frankie stayed mostly at the Vice President's dwelling that made the drive to the White House about five to seven minutes. She took Massachusetts to Connecticut, then onto 17th Street and into the southwest entrance to the White House parking area. She listened to CDs while in the car. The world's events would be thrust upon her soon enough. She drove through security and parked in her assigned spot.

Rick tried to have breakfast with Tracy every morning he could. This was one of them, so he wouldn't get in until 7:00. Being Vice President had its perks as related to Tracy. She was driven to and from school. Dad didn't even have to be home all the time. The staff saw to Tracy's needs after school.

Frankie's regimen was a workout and shower that allowed her to be in her office by the time Rick reached his. Donna was usually in the workout room by 6:00. They enjoyed working out together. She liked Donna. She was a very special, loyal, and dedicated person.

The Secret Service agent was also very straight. Fortunately, their sexual differences never affected their working relationship. They teamed well in taking care of problems. Donna was a low-key, very private person. Come to think of it, she knew very little about the agent, other than her superb record in five and a half years with the Service. Before that, Donna had been in Special Forces, which they never talked about.

Donna talked glowingly about Rick. She knew about the “arrangements” for Rick, and Frankie wondered if the agent ever wanted to do it with him. Although Donna might do anything for the Vice President, that wouldn't be one of them. It was against the rules.

Frankie found the agent already in the workout room jumping rope. She liked getting her cardiovascular going before working with the weights. Donna stopped as she entered and rushed over to her. No one else was in the room, but a few would be coming in soon.

“What's up?” Frankie asked, seeing her concerned look.

“There was an accident last night on New York Avenue between 17th and 18th, right after the game. Kat's in the hospital.”

“Kat? How? What happened!?”

“She was struck by a hit-and-run driver.”

“How bad?” Frankie demanded.

“It's serious. She's in the Reagan Emergency Center. Broken shoulder and arm, fractured pelvis and femur, a busted knee, cuts, and bruises.”

“When did you hear this?”

“This is complicated. We know the driver, or rather, the driver's employer: Manchester. The driver is dead. I was tailing Wolfe. She and Kat had talked, remember?”

Frankie sat on a workout bench, in near shock.

“Manchester's man was tailing Kat, who was walking with Wolfe and Captain Walsh after the game. You probably saw them at the game. Wolfe's husband as well, but he left early,” she reported clearly. “They were walking on New York Avenue. Most of the players go to the Sports Bar on Pennsylvania Avenue. I got my car just in case they didn't go to the bar.”

“So Kat, Wolfe, and Walsh were walking on the sidewalk down New York toward 18th? Then what?” Frankie asked, impatiently.

“Manchester's man was at the game. He went to his car too. I watched him turn on New York going slowly. When I crossed 17th, I thought I'd pull right up behind him, but instead he had taken off fast. Then I saw sparks flying off parked cars on the right hand side as he sideswiped them. I didn't see the women. Walsh was on the left side of the street. He started shooting at the guy's car, which never made the turn at 18th, but plowed into a pole and tree and blew up.”

Frankie was dumbfounded. “So Walsh was shooting. Where was Kat?”

“That's just it. I didn't see her or Wolfe. Walsh ran across the road and I pulled up near him and stopped. I saw two women running back toward Walsh and the three went in between the cars. An SUV passed me slowly and Walsh stopped it.

“I realized the women must have been hit and grabbed my first aid kit and a blanket, and ran to them. Walsh was on his phone. Beth Carr and—”

“Beth.”

“Yeah, she was working on Kat, who was sprawled across the trunk unconscious. The reporter Wolfe was down in between the cars, and this other woman, Annika, I learned later, was with her. Wolfe didn't appear badly hurt. We had to put tourniquets on Kat.”

Frankie felt weak and dropped her head to her chest.

Talbot continued. “Vehicles were stopping, people helping, Walsh organizing. They got Kat in the back of the SUV and put Wolfe in the front. Walsh got in and they took off for the hospital. Beth, Annika, and I sat on the curb next to the cars that had been hit. We talked until some cops came over and got a statement from each of us. As soon as I could, I got out of there. I called the hospital around 10:30. All they'd say was Kat was in surgery.”

“So you don't know what happened to her?”

“I checked this morning. At first they wouldn't say, but when I asked how the surgery had gone, they opened up. No visitors were allowed, only family.”

“We're her family. Oh God, I've got to call her parents.”

“Why don't you let Mr. Smith do that?”

Frankie thought about that, and then nodded. “I'll ask him.”

“This could complicate things. You do everything you can to keep negative stuff from your brother, now this happens.”

“What happened to Wolfe?”

“I asked that, too, saying the two were in the same accident. The hospital person said no one by that name was listed.”

“She had Walsh there,” Frankie added, regrouping. “I'm sure he used his authority to keep her name out of it. Those two seem very chummy.”

“They do.”

“Find out who the attending doctor or surgeon was. Make it an official call. Use the power of this office and get some answers. We'll send flowers. I'll go over later.”

“Is there something I don't know?” Donna asked with concern.

“Meaning?”

“Mr. Manchester?”

“Of course not. The only thing George and I discussed was keeping an eye on Kat. He said he'd do it. I wasn't distrusting Kat. I just wanted to know who might be putting pressure on her, and I was right. It was Wolfe. Kat is a trusted employee. We go back four, five years on Capitol Hill. She is very loyal.”

“Then why would this guy try and run either one of them down?”

“Look, I'm going to shower and get dressed. I want to see Rick before he reads the Morning Report. Thanks, Donna.”

When Frankie finished up, she went straight to Rick's office. She was certain Kat's accident was an unlucky incident. Manchester would never do something like that. Her brother had just arrived when she reached his office.

“Good morning,” he said cheerily.

She hated to burst his bubble. “We need to talk.”

“Come on in.” She followed him in and closed the door. He noticed that.

“Something wrong?” he asked concerned.

“Something happened. Kat was hit by a car last night after the ballgame. She's in the Reagan Emergency Center.”

“Serious?” he asked, startled.

“I don't think life-threatening, but broken bones, badly banged up. She'll be out a couple of months for sure.”

“We'll send flowers?”

“Already have. We'll coordinate visitations. I'm going over as soon as I can.”

“Absolutely. You'll tell Adam?”

She nodded.

“I'll make some time to go after lunch. What about her family?”

“Donna checked and was told her father had called the hospital this morning to say his wife would be arriving there later in the morning.”

“Can we have her picked up?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, it was just a thought,” he said softly. “No. Send my car,” he said firmly.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. Ask the Service supervisor. Tell him I'm asking. If that doesn't work, call the motor pool.”

“I'll call Mr. Turner, too, and get the flight.”

“Have somebody update me with all medical reports.”

“Okay.”

She left her brother's office and walked briskly to hers. She told Maude about Kat and asked her to arrange for the Vice President's car, or a reasonable facsimile, to pick up Kat's mother at the gate. “And, ah, order some flowers. I'm going to be busy on my private line. No interruptions.” She entered her office and closed the door.

She called Mr. Turner. It was difficult because she didn't have any facts, but assured him they would have some quickly.

Her next call was going to be even tougher. George Manchester had done many good things for them. But she had to know what was going on. Did he even know about the accident? She worried that too many things were putting the wrong kind of focus on the Vice President.

J
erry hoped Laura would sleep late. As far as he could tell, she had slept well, but he had no idea of what was happening to their baby. How would two traumatic events affect the embryo? The hospital said the baby was fine. He wanted an opinion from her OB-GYN.

He called the nurses' station to check on Kat and was told she had spent as peaceful a night as was possible, given her situation. He asked for Marsha, but it turned out she was in the cafeteria getting breakfast. He left their apartment's number and asked that Marsha call back.

He poured some coffee, fixed a bagel, and retrieved the morning paper. He found the accident in Metro, page three. No names or details about the victims. He turned on the TV. After a few minutes, he found a local newscast that showed a clip of a smoldering car. Milo Bannini of Arlington was the driver. Nothing was said about Max's gunshots.

The reporter did mention that two women crossing the street had been struck by Bannini's car. One remained in the Reagan Emergency Center in critical condition. The second woman had been treated and released. Jerry smiled to himself. Max had a hand in no names being given, he thought.

The house phone rang. He grabbed it. It was Marsha.

“Kat's father called. He had just taken Mrs. Turner to the airport. She is scheduled to arrive at Reagan National around 10:30. I have her cell phone number. I gave him Laura's and mine. Is there anyone who can pick her up?”

“At the moment, I don't think so. Metro would be the best bet. It stops right outside the hospital's door.”

“Oh of course, Foggy Bottom. I'll call Kat's father. He said his wife would be calling him when she got off the plane.”

“That will work out best. How are you doing?”

“Fine. I don't have any classes today. I'll hang here until Kat's mom arrives.”

“Good. We'll take it one calamitous event at a time.” He heard Marsha laugh. “Let us know what happens, including medical reports. I'm sure Laura would like to know who shows up from the Vice President's office.”