President's Girlfriend 06 - The Sins of the Fathers (16 page)

“Maybe,”
Crader said.
 
“It’s a remote
possibility.
 
But my money’s on Max
Brennan.
 
He’s a snake in the grass.
 
This clipping has that bitter, broken down
old Max written all over it.”

“Did you
have the envelope and this clipping tested?” Dutch asked.

“Of course.
 
I had it privately handled.
 
But nothing’s there.
 
No unknown fingerprints or smears,
nothing.
 
The sender was meticulous.
 
He knew what he was doing.”

“Damn,”
Dutch said.
 
This was all he needed.
 
“So what is it this time?
 
Some extortion scheme, what?”

“He wants
something all right,” Crader agreed.
 
“But damn if I know what.
 
I’m
just concerned, that’s all.
 
Did that
fucker record that shit?”

“Oh, come
on, Cray.”

“I wouldn’t
put it past him!
 
We thought Max was
loyal back then, somebody we could trust.
 
We didn’t know how low down and dirty he really was until here recently,
Dutch.
 
Think about it.”

Dutch did
think about it.
 
“I understand what
you’re saying.
 
And I wouldn’t put it
past Max to have recorded us, either.
 
But what would it really prove?
 
That we banged some female?”

“In our
capacity as United States Senators at a retreat paid for by taxpayer
dollars.
 
And if he recorded both of us
with her, at the same time, Dutch . . .” Crader stared at Dutch to make sure he
fully understood the implications of such a video.

Dutch looked
at his friend.
 
He was only now getting
the message.
 
“You’re going to run for
president when my term ends, aren’t you, Cray?”

Crader
hesitated.
 
Had to
admit the truth.
 
“I’ve been
approached by more than a few wealthy donors and yes, I’m considering it.”

“This video,
if it exists,” Dutch went on, “would end any chance you have of ever being
elected.”

“Hell,
Dutch, this video could end any chance of my remaining vice president, or of
you completing your own term!
 
The
American people may take a look at what we did with that young lady twelve
years ago and conclude we’re too morally corrupt to lead this nation.”

“We were
morally corrupt back then,” Dutch said with bite.
  
“That’s for damn sure.”
 
Then he exhaled.
 
“Okay,” he said.
 
“Keep trying to locate Max.
 
Get an FBI assist if necessary.
 
But quietly.”

Max stood
erect.
 
He was glad to know that Dutch
was taking this with the seriousness it deserved.
 
“I’m on it,” he said.

“And if they
do locate him, we’ll take it from there,” Dutch continued.
 
“We’ll see if Max was as twisted then as he
is now.
 
But I don’t think it’s as dire
as you’re making it out to be, Cray.
 
Just chill.
 
Enjoy
your wife.
 
Enjoy your new baby.
 
Find Max.”
 
He said this with that icy look in his eyes Crader was well familiar
with.
 
“And then we’ll handle it.”

Crader
wanted desperately to tell the other side of the story, but he couldn’t bring
himself to go there.
 
Besides, that
newspaper clipping could be all about that weekend in Vegas twelve years ago,
as he was hoping it would be, and nothing more.
 
It seemed the only logical conclusion, since Max would know about that
weekend too.
 

Nobody, not
even Dutch, was supposed to know the rest of the story.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Gina sipped from her scalding hot coffee as she sat sideways,
legs folded, at her conference table.
 
Christian, LaLa, and three of her additional top staffers were also
seated with her, their respective coffees in front of them.
 
This marked LaLa’s first day back to visit
Gina’s office, since she gave birth to Nicole.

“How does it
feel to be completely back to normal again?” Gina asked her.

“Like new
money,” LaLa said with a smile.
 

“I’m glad
you decided to bring baby Nicole to the Nursery over here rather than keeping
her all by herself at Blair House.”

“I want to
be able to peep in on her all hours of the day.
 
I wouldn’t be able to do that at Blair, and do my job.
 
I prefer to have my office here anyway, away
from home.”

Gina
understood that.
 
Little Walt was no
newborn any longer, but she was still peeping in on him all times of the day
too.

“Considering
all you’ve gone through,” Christian said, “you look great,
La
.”

LaLa looked
at him.
 
She was still hurt that Jade had
had a miscarriage.
 
Christian, she felt,
would have made an excellent father.
 
But
then again when it came to Christian, LaLa was always his biggest
supporter.
 
“You make it sound as if
having a baby is a tortuous thing,” she said to him.

“Well, isn’t
it?” he said to her with that innocent look on his face.

She
smiled.
 
“Hell to the yeah it is!” she
said, and everybody laughed.

Madge, one
of Gina’s top aides, interrupted the gaiety.
 
“Are we still on for the DC Rotary Club, Mrs. Harber?
 
I need to give them an answer by this afternoon.”

“Only if I
can get in and out,” Gina said.
 
“Those
gatherings tend to go on and on.
 
And I
still want to put in some volunteer hours at Bridge Gap.
 
See if my brother cares to join me.”

“Yes,
ma’am,” Madge said, writing furiously.

“How’s that
working out?” LaLa asked.
 
“With Marcus
going with you I mean?”

“Beautifully,”
Gina said.
 
“In fact, they’ve asked him
to become their community outreach leader.”

This
astounded LaLa.
 
“Really?
 
Wow, G, that’s great.
 
Marcus does have a way with the ladies.”
 
They both laughed.
 
Christian turned slightly in his seat.
 
Then LaLa asked: “How does Marcus feel about
it?”

“He loves
the idea,” Gina said.
 
“He told them yes
immediately.
 
Of course their board would
have to agree, given his less than stellar background, but the executive
director has every confidence.
 
But
Marcus loves the idea.”
 

“Especially
since the president had nothing to do with it,” Christian said and LaLa looked
at him.

“What do you
mean?”

“He just
doesn’t like people doing things for him, especially the president.
 
He feels his hard work got him the job.”

“Oh, that’s
nonsense!” LaLa said.
 
“If he wasn’t the
half-brother of the First Lady of the United States and if his brother-in-law
wasn’t the president, Bridge Gap wouldn’t have allowed him to be a janitor in
their center.
 
I mean, let’s be real
here.
 
The fact that he has these
powerful connections, and could raise awareness about their organization, had
everything to do with them making him their outreach director.
 
Surely he realizes that.”

Christian
looked at Gina.
 
He wasn’t sure if Marcus
realized it at all.
 
And, in truth, Gina
wasn’t sure either.
 
After that incident
where Dutch decided to bar him from residing inside the White House with the
rest of the family, he seemed to have developed a powerful grudge against
Dutch.
 
Gina fought behind closed doors
on his behalf, she fought fiercely, but when Dutch made it clear that no way
was he staying there and they told Marcus, they presented a united front.
 
And although Gina still disagreed mightily
with Dutch’s decision, that was and always would be between her and Dutch.

The door to
the office of the First Lady flew open and Allison Shearer, the president’s
chief of staff, came hurrying in.
 

“Turn on the
TV,” she ordered.

“What is
it?” Gina asked.

“The
president is getting brutalized.”

“At the press conference?”
LaLa asked.

“Yes!
 
I mean he has been blindsided!”

Gina’s heart
began to pound.
 
“About
the summit?”

“Yes.
 
They’re calling his entire presidency a
failure just because he couldn’t broker an agreement on Europe’s debt
crisis.
 
It’s painful to watch,
Gina.
 
It’s painful to watch!”

Christian
quickly grabbed the remote and turned on the flat screen against the back
wall.
 
They all watched.
 
And there was Dutch Harber, standing by the podium
in the East Room of the White House.
 
The
press corps was packed in like sardines.
 
And they were letting Dutch have it.
 
It was as if Dutch was single-handedly responsible for the economic woes
in Europe simply because he couldn’t get the Europeans to agree to terms.
 
Dutch remained cool, but Gina could see that
Allison was right: he was under siege.

And it went
on like this for a good twenty minutes.
 
Question after question was an indictment of his leadership
abilities.
 
But then finally the subject
matter switched from the Helsinki Summit.
 
But it switched to an even greater potential blindside.
 
And Dutch’s cool exterior began to show some
signs of cracking.

“Mr.
President, what about Stephanie Mitchell?” a report from the AP casually asked.

“What about
her?” Dutch asked, although he’d never heard of the woman.
 
But he knew that the first rule in politics
for a sitting president was never to admit total ignorance.

“According
to our sources, sir, she says that her recently deceased sister, Elvelyn Rosenthal,
knew you.”

Gina looked
at Allison.
 
“Who’s Elvelyn Rosenthal?”

“I don’t
know her,” Allison said coyly, although she certainly knew of her from that
newspaper clipping someone had mailed to her home.

Dutch,
however, smiled, attempted to downplay his growing concern.
 
“I know lots of people, Ed,” he said to
laughter. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“How many
people do you know intimately, sir?” Ed of the AP asked the president.
 
This provoked murmurs.

“Before I was
married,” Dutch admitted honestly, “I knew many women.
 
And I knew many of them intimately,” he
added.

“What about
their children?” the reporter asked.

This stumped
Dutch.
 
And many others
in the room.
 
“Excuse me?”

“Stephanie
Mitchell also asserts that you should be asked about Elvelyn Rosenthal’s
child.”

Gina stared
at the screen when a child was mentioned.
 
Dutch’s heart began to pound.
 
A child?
 
What
child?
 
Did he impregnate this Elvelyn
person when he had her twelve years ago?
 
But he wore protection back then.
 
Didn’t he?

“I’m sure I
don’t know anything about her child,” Dutch said, his voice not as steady any
longer.

“I’ll be
blunt, sir,” a Reuters reporter chimed in.
 
“Are you the father of Elvelyn Rosenthal’s son?”

Dutch’s
heart began to pound.
 
“I am not,” he
made clear.

“What makes
you so certain, sir?
 
Have you taken a
DNA test?”

“Of course I
have not taken any DNA test.”