"I was two months old when I came here. A nice young couple who couldn't get pregnant adopted me. I've never known another country or another culture. I never even traveled outside the United States until I was in college." He gave Harry a sobering look and said, "But I can't be president."
"A dumb rule, I suppose," said Harry.
"But it's in our Constitution. Article II, clause five."
"I'm just amazed that your adoption was able to be kept secret all these years."
"It was never an issue. Not even when I announced my candidacy for president did people have any reason to question my birthplace."
"Funny," said Harry. "In this world of information overload, we think we know everything about our leaders. But still we don't know them."
"You're talking as if this is an obvious thing. It's not. Do your homework. Before the laws changed in 1961, you could even do an adoption by proxy from places like Cyprus. International adoptions in this country were a mess."
"Was yours one of the messy ones?"
"It was 1960, Harry. Imagine a woman knows her life would be better without the man she's married to, but she doesn't have the courage to leave him. She tells her husband that the father of their child was the man who raped her, but she wants to keep the baby anyway. What do you think she expects a thug like Demetri to do?"
"Leave, I'm sure."
"But maybe he surprises her. Maybe he loves her so much in his own twisted and controlling way that he thinks he can fix things--if he can just get rid of the kid. So he convinces Cypriot officials to look the other way as the child is smuggled out of the country, no paper trail. The baby is sold on the black market to an unmarried woman in Philadelphia who, for a fee, falsifies th e b irth records and pretends that the baby is hers. A nice couple then makes a perfectly legal adoption, knowing nothing about the smuggling or supposed rape that took place halfway around the world."
"Are you saying that's what happened?"
The ensuing silence was profound, not even the drone of rubber tires on the interstate audible in the fortified limousine.
"What are you going to do now?" said Harry.
He shot Harry a puzzled look. "You said it yourself, this natural
-
born-citizen rule is just plain dumb. I'm going to fight it."
"How?"
"With guns blazing. You have to stay with me on this."
"What do you mean?"
The president leaned forward, suddenly energized. "Stick with the plan, Harry. Be my vice president."
"And do what? Pretend I don't know your situation?"
"You don't know it."
"You just told me."
"Forget what I just told you."
"You can't hide this," said Harry. "They'll do DNA tests on you, Sofia, and Demetri."
"My lawyers can tie that up."
"Somebody is probably pulling copies of your phony birth certificate even as we speak."
"The birth certificate says I was born at home to an unmarried woman in Philadelphia who died thirty years ago. Both my adoptive parents are deceased. Demetri's dead. To this day, Sofia doesn't want to say or do anything to hurt her son. Who's to say that the fingerprints and footprints on the birth certificate were made when I was eight weeks instead of eight hours old? I've had a social security number since I was three months old. There's no paper trail back to Cyprus, and the records here are airtight."
"You can't keep this up forever."
"I dont have to. There are only two years left on my term. You step in as my vice president now, and you're the heir apparent to the Oval Office."
"I can't do that," said Harry.
"Sure you can."
"No. I really can't."
"You're being a fool."
"Maybe I am."
"Do you realize that if I'm forced to resign before you're confirmed, you'll never be vice president?"
"I do understand that."
"Your only way to the White House is through the vice presidency--through me."
"That looks like a pretty tough road right now, Mr. President."
"Harry, get a grip. You're not negotiating from a position of power."
"Negotiating?"
"Listen to what I'm saying. Either you stand behind me, or I'm pulling your nomination."
"Do what you have to do, sir."
"Are you crazy?" he said, his voice turning shrill. "What's wrong with you? You have nothing right now, do you understand? You have no power over me. You are not the sitting vice president. You do not rise to the presidency if I'm forced out. You are not Phil Grayson!"
A chilling silence filled the vehicle. Their eyes locked, as if neither man could believe what President Keyes had just said.
Harry turned very serious. "Phil knew your secret, didn't he?"
"From a little whore named Chloe Sparks."
"You gave Madera the green light to eliminate him."
"I offered Phil the same deal I just offered you. Phil had to be a pain in the ass, wanted to be president right now."
"You killed him."
"I told Frank to deal with it. I didn't think he'd pump him so full of ED medication that he'd literally explode."
The limo stopped. Harry checked out the window. They were still on the interstate, at least a mile away from the Action News studio.
"Why are we stopping?" said the president, though the question wasn't really addressed to Harry.
His door opened.
"What's going on?"
Agent Schwartz was standing outside the limousine. He flashed his badge, his demeanor all business.
"Sir, could you please step out of the vehicle."
"I beg your pardon."
"Sir, don't make this worse than it already is. Please step out of the vehicle."
The president chuckled nervously, but he was the only one laughing.
"Harry, do you know anything about this?"
Harry didn't answer.
Agent Schwartz said, "Sir, could you please--"
"Yes, yes," he said as he climbed out of the limousine. "But this is totally outrageous and insulting beyond belief. In fact, it's inexcusable. I want your badge number."
Schwartz showed him his shield. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"Surely you jest," said the president.
"You have the right to an attorney . . ."
"I don't need to hear this," he said. But the recitation of his rights continued, and the president only became more agitated. Two other agents from the motorcade approached the limousine, one of them with handcuffs.
The president was red in the face with anger. Media helicopters were hovering overhead.
"Do you actually think you can arrest me?"
"Can I have your wrists, sir?" said Schwartz.
"I wont stand for this."
"Sir, your wrists."
"Is this some kind of political power play? This is--"
He stopped himself, turned, and peered into the backseat of the limo. The door was still open, and Harry looked back at him.
"You're wired, aren't you?" said the president.
Harry said nothing.
"You sneaky son of a bitch. You're wearing a wire!"
Harry drew on his oldest roots--those of a Miami cop--and forced himself to show no sign of enjoyment or satisfaction. In fact, he watched without any reaction at all as Agent Schwartz drew the president's wrists behind his back and slapped on the handcuffs. But self-restraint had its limits. As the president stood outside his presidential limousine, glaring at the vice presidential nominee in disbelief, Harry couldn't resist one parting shot--if not for himself, then for Phil Grayson.
"How do you like those beans, Mr. President?" he said.
Chapter
60
Jack locked up his law office at 3:00 P
. M
. on December 22. The move to the new building on Main Highway was a success, at least according to Theo, who had quickly pointed out that the reception area was the perfect size for an air hockey table. "Situation normal" had returned to Jack's life, just in time to be screwed up by the holidays.
President Keyes had resigned from office on the day of his arrest, the first U
. S
. president ever to do so from a prison cell. With no sitting vice president, the Speaker of the House was sworn in as president, and he promptly nominated former U
. S
. attorney general Allison Leahy as his vice president. Harry Swyteck was out, just as Keyes had predicted. Jack had actually dreamt that he represented Sofia at her congressional confirmation hearing for the number two spot, but in reality she was happy to return to New York and pour what remained of her heart and soul into the bakery that she and her late husband Angelo had created.
Predictably, the media--especially the talk shows--continued to feast on the White House scandal 24/7. Rumors were rampant, but there were some credible leaks. The last Jack had heard, Keyes might even identify a certain mobster who controlled him and Frank Madera, but only if the prosecution would cut him a deal on the conspiracy-to-commit-murder charge. Jack suspected there would be no deals if Elizabeth and Marilyn Grayson had anything to say about it.
"
Jack, hey, I'm glad I caught you."
Jack turned to see his father hurrying up the sidewalk. His
Lincoln was at the curb outside Jack's office with the motor running.
"Mr. almost-vice-president, how are you, sir?"
"Very funny."
"I thought you were leaving for Colorado today," said Jack.
"We're off to the airport as soon as I pick up Agnes. But there was something I wanted to tell you before I go."
Jack knew what a nervous flyer his father was. "Dad, we have this same conversation every time you and Agnes fly together. I know where you keep the key to the safe deposit box."
"It's not that. Before everything went crazy in Washington, there were more than a few jokes made about the fact that I fired you as my lawyer. The damn gossip papers even picked it up. I'm sure you realize what that was all about, but I feel like something needs to be said between us."
"I understand completely," said Jack. "You were working with the FBI, and one member of the Swyteck family at risk was enough."
"That's part of it," said Harry.
Jack flashed a hint of concern. "What's the other part?"
"I just want you to have the total picture. Yes, I fired you to keep you out of danger. But if this whole thing had turned out differently--if I had become vice president--it would have bee
n a dream come true to have my son working in Washington wit h m e.
Jack smiled, even though years of sad history lay between the lines. During Governor Swyteck's first term, the problems had run much deeper than the obvious fact that Jack worked for the Freedom Institute and defended death row inmates, while his father was signing more death warrants than any governor in Florida history. The rocky history dated back to Jack's childhood, and politics had made their disagreement so public that the two men didn't even speak to each other.
"Chief Justice Jack Swyteck/' said Jack. "Could have had a nice ring to it."
"Let's not get crazy in hindsight, all right?"
Jack stepped toward him, and they embraced.
"Oh, one other thing," said Harry. "I've completely run out of time with the holiday crunch. Can you stop by Carroll's Jewelers and pick up Agnes's Christmas present? It's an antique, I guess you'd say. Make sure it's cleaned up all pretty and overnight it to me."
"Sure thing. Have a great time in Beaver Creek."
Harry thanked him and went to his car.
Carroll's Jewelers on Miracle Mile wasn't exactly on Jack's way home, and the last-minute shoppers made getting there a bit like sneaking into the Super Bowl. Fortunately, the jeweler recognized him when he entered, and she brought the box to the counter straightaway and opened it for him.
"What do you think?" she said.
Jack slipped the ring onto the tip of his pinky and examined it beneath the spotlight.
"It looks like my mother's engagement ring," he said, puzzled.
"It is," said the jeweler. "It cleaned up nicely, don't you think?"
Precious few family heirlooms had been passed down through Jack's maternal family. His mother had come to Miami from Cuba as a teenager with little more than a suitcase in hand. The Castro regime didn't let her mother leave for another forty years, long after Anna Maria Fuentes had married Harry Swyteck and died giving birth to a son. The modest, round diamond in a traditional Tiffany setting was about what one would have expected from a recent college graduate in the mid-1960s. Jack had never asked for it, but he assumed it would be his someday--passed directly from his father.
"He's giving it to Agnes?"