I Do Solemnly Swear (33 page)

“It was Ellenwood who asked me to contact Peter,” McDermott said. “
I
set up the meeting with Jack Miller. But Victor said Miller was going to persuade Peter to come home to help you get through the first few weeks of transition. I had no idea Peter tried to convince you to resign.”

She did not doubt McDermott. “Remember the morning I walked into the Oval Office and you were penciling in an appointment for Olivia?”

He nodded.

“Earlier that morning, you were in your office talking on the telephone. Who were you speaking to?”

McDermott thought for a moment. “The vice president.”

“Walter Owens?”

“Yes. It was his idea to send Miller to Topeka. He was deeply concerned about your state of mind.”

“I’ll bet he was.”

“When he asked me if I thought Peter’s presence would help you get settled, I told him it was just a matter of time.”

Just a matter of time
. She recalled those words. There were more questions, but Kate sensed it was wise to let him rest. “Get some sleep, Charles. I’ll be back in the morning, and maybe then we can talk about that raise.” She kissed his cheek.

“Have they identified the assassin?”

“The name on his student ID is William Thompson, but the FBI checked with the school administrator’s office, and no one by that name attends Georgetown.”

“Any other leads?”

“The would-be assassin had a swastika tattooed on top of his head, so that might identify him as a member of a particular gang. One thing is certain: Jack Miller’s fingernails are dirty, and the FBI is utilizing every possible agent to locate him.”

McDermott yawned.

“See you in the morning, Charles.”

Kate returned to the White House at five twenty a.m. She tried to sleep, but her mind swirled like a carousel. Half resting and half sorting out the fragments of information she’d processed since speaking to Kramer, she forced herself to stay in bed until ten fifteen. At Kate’s request, Olivia Carter notified all Cabinet members and other key advisors that the president and Kramer had urgent business, and they were asked not to disturb her—not even enter the West Wing—unless it was imperative.

Kate took a quick shower, got dressed, ate a piece of rye toast, and headed for the Oval Office. A slight limp remained, and she still favored her right knee, but the throbbing had diminished considerably, and movement no longer caused severe discomfort. As soon as Kate came through the doorway of the executive offices, Emily ran over to her like a lost child reunited with her mother.

“Oh, Madam President, I’m so happy you’re all right.” She put her arms around Kate and firmly hugged her.

Kate could feel a familiar lump grow in her throat. “Thank you, Emily.”

“There are hundreds of messages for you. Everyone in the
world
has called and sent their regards. Wait until you see your office. Is there anything I can get you?”

“Locate Carl Kramer for me. Tell him I’d like to see him as soon as possible.”

“Right away, Madam President. How about some hazelnut coffee?”

“That would be wonderful.”

When Kate walked into the Oval Office, it was like entering a colorful botanical garden. Throughout the office, occupying just about every flat surface, were roses, birds of paradise, orchids, and exotic flowers she couldn’t identify. Kate took a deep breath and choked back the tears. She guessed that the dike would break the moment she saw her father.

On her desk were piles of telephone messages and fax communications. She was about to look through them when her intercom buzzed.

“Have you located Mr. Kramer?” Kate asked.

“Mr. Miles is on the telephone.”

Peter was the last person she wished to speak with. She forced a long, hard swallow.

“Hello, Peter.”

“It’s great to hear your voice, Kate. I feel so relieved. Cranston told me you were OK, but I wasn’t sure if he was being honest. One TV station said you might have been shot in the leg. Is that true?”

“My knee got banged up, but it’s nothing serious.”

“Thank God. How’s McDermott?”

“It was frightful for a while, but he’ll be OK.”

“Did he really save your life?”

“He pushed me out of the way and stepped in front of a bullet.”

“I didn’t think the little twerp had it in him. I’m gonna have to put him on my Christmas list.”

Kate did not have the time or the patience to hear much of anything her estranged husband had to say. “So, Peter, what can I do for you?”

“Did you get the flowers I sent?”

Kate scanned the assortment of floral arrangements throughout the office. Then she noticed the bouquet of violet calla lilies—her favorite flowers. “Yes, I did. They’re lovely.”

“Glad you like them.”

Silence.

“How would you feel about me flying back to DC—just so we can talk?”

“We can talk on the telephone.”

“Kate, I really screwed up, and I just want the opportunity to make it up to you.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Not at this time, anyway.”

“Can I call you again when things settle down?”

“As long as I’m president, Peter, things will never settle down.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. She remembered the day they’d first met. Pieces of their ambivalent relationship flashed through her mind.

“It’s over, Peter.”

“Kate, please give me—”

“I want a divorce.”

For several moments, Peter was silent. “At least talk to me face-to-face, Kate.” His voice quieted to a whisper.

“My attorney will contact you in a couple of weeks. I’m really sorry, Peter.” She did not wait for him to say good-bye.

She set down the telephone and sat motionless for several minutes. She didn’t feel regret or anger, only sorrow. Had she done the right thing? It was a question that she couldn’t truthfully answer at this time.

Emily knocked on the door and stuck her head inside. “Mr. Kramer is here, Madam President.”

“Tell him to give me five minutes.”

She swallowed the knot in the back of her throat and inhaled a quivering breath of air. After a few moments, her pounding heart settled down, and she regained her composure.

Kramer walked in and approached Kate’s desk with purpose in his step. “I think it’s time to put a big piece of cheese in the rat trap, Madam President.”

***

Accompanied by four Secret Service agents, Kate went to the hospital and visited with McDermott. The color was starting to return to his face, and he looked more animated than when she’d first seen him.

“There’s a pile of work waiting for you, Charles, so I expect a quick recovery.” Kate couldn’t keep a straight face.

He shook his head and smiled. “Always the slave driver, huh, Madam President?”

“Can’t run the country without my right arm.” She kissed him on the forehead before leaving.

***

Carl Kramer had set up the meeting with Owens for four p.m. To review their strategy one last time, Kate met with Kramer at three thirty. Walter Owens walked into the Oval Office at three fifty-five.

Owens sandwiched Kate’s hand between his clammy hands. “Madam President, thank God you weren’t seriously injured. I can’t tell you how horrified I was. That maniac should rot in hell. Dean Whitney sends his warmest regards.” The VP shook Kramer’s hand and sat adjacent to him. “How are you, Mr. Kramer?”

“Couldn’t be better, Mr. Vice President.”

The VP looked at his Rolex. “Should we begin or wait for Victor?”

“Victor, unfortunately, has been detained,” Kramer said. “The FBI arrested him this morning and placed him under protective custody.”

Owens’s eyes opened wide. “The FBI arrested
Victor
?”

“As soon as we track down Jack Mueller, he’ll be visiting the big house too,” Kramer said.

The vice president’s forehead sprouted drops of perspiration. “Who is Jack Mueller?”

“You might know him as Jack Miller,” Kate said.

Owens’s voice was unsteady. “Did agent Miller have an alias?”

“So you know Miller?” Kramer asked.

“We were...acquainted.”

“We think you were more than acquainted,” Kramer said. “We also know that it was you who recommended Miller for the CIA job.”

Owens tugged at his shirt collar. “This is preposterous.” He glared at Kate; his face contorted grotesquely. “Are you accusing me of something, Madam President?”

Kate glanced at Kramer.

“We’d like to hear what you have to say about your relationship with Miller,” Kramer said.

Owens’s eyes darted around the room. He clasped and unclasped his hands and twisted his neck from side to side. Kate thoroughly enjoyed watching the fat man squirm.

“I hadn’t heard from Jack in years. Our grandfathers, best friends since childhood, emigrated here from Europe. I don’t know when they changed their last name, but it must have been a long time ago because I always knew him as Jack Miller. When
Jack contacted me a few months ago and asked if I could pull a few strings to get him a position with the CIA, I thought I was doing a good deed for an old friend. I spoke with Victor, he checked the guy out, and the next thing I knew, Jack was working for the CIA.”

“Why did you deny knowing Miller?” Kate asked.

“When Victor informed me that Jack was trying to blackmail him for President Rodgers’s assassination, I wanted to help, but Victor told me to keep my nose out of it.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Kate asked.

Owens pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and blotted his forehead. “I thought about it. But my past association with Jack placed me in a very awkward situation.”

“And you think by lying you’re in a better position now?” Kate asked.

“Madam President, you can accuse me of acting inappropriately, but I knew nothing about Agent Miller’s activities.”

“You’re ignoring one integral piece of information, Mr. Owens,” Kramer said. “Joseph Vitelli’s confession.”

Owens smiled with pursed lips. “Mr. Deputy Director, are you trying to dupe me? Vitelli was murdered in the Cayman Islands. Everyone who can read the newspaper knows that. Unless you’ve found a way to resurrect the dead, I have nothing more to say.”

“How do you know Vitelli’s dead, Walter?” Kate asked. “Did Miller tell you?”

“Of course not! It was the article in the
Post
. When the president’s former executive chef is mysteriously murdered, it makes front-page news.”

Kramer opened a manila folder and handed Owens a copy of the newspaper article. “Perhaps you should read the article more closely.”

Owens wagged his index finger at the DDCI. “I’ve got better things to do with my time, Mr. Kramer. I’m not interested in playing your little game of espionage any longer. Unless there is a point to this meeting, I’d like to be excused, Madam President.”

Kate stood and folded her arms across her chest. “Walter, the
Post
article reports that a Maryland resident by the name of Richard Crandall was murdered while vacationing in the Grand Cayman Islands. How could you possibly know that Joseph Vitelli and Richard Crandall were the same person?”

Walter Owens snatched the article from Kramer’s hand and gawked at it. His face turned scarlet red, and he collapsed in the chair. The vice president looked like an inflatable doll that had just been punctured with a knife.

“Would you care to change your position?” Kramer offered.

Owens nervously rubbed his hands together. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Kramer said.

“Save yourself, Walter, before it’s too late,” Kate added.

“Hitler’s mysterious disappearance at the end of World War II didn’t stop the Aryan movement; instead, it served only to intensify it. They have infiltrated every segment of society. Government. Private industry. Police departments. The Supreme Court. They work beside you, live in your neighborhoods, teach your children how to read—they are everywhere, and the movement cannot be stopped.”

“Movement?” Kramer said.

Owens’s lower lip was trembling. “The movement for white supremacy. For over sixty years, loyal supporters of the Aryan philosophy have carried on with the dream to rid the world of inferior ones.”

“That’s an interesting history lesson, Walter,” Kate said, “but what does it have to do with you spending the rest of your life in prison?”

“What happens to me is inconsequential. They control more than you’d like to believe, Madam President. They are getting closer every day. It could have been so easy if you weren’t so damned stubborn. Why didn’t you just resign?”

Kate wanted so badly to slap his face. “So—reading between the lines, here—the plan was to convince me to resign, and if that failed, kill me, which would have put you in the Oval Office?”

“Precisely. They would have gained a great deal with me as president.”

“And you can sit across from me and so casually say that you had no problem with me being assassinated?”

“It wasn’t personal, Madam President. You were simply in the way, and they wanted you gone.”

“You keep referring to
they
, Walter,” Kate said. “Who gives you orders?”