“Our country can breathe easier, now that this terrible episode in our history has been brought to an end. Mr. Fay, I’m afraid, is all too typical of those, of whatever nationality, who believe that they are right and others are wrong and that violence can move others to their point of view. This never works, at home or abroad, and our nation is poorer for those who have been lost. I wish, once again, to extend my profound sympathy to their families and friends. Thank you.”
JUSTICE THOMAS GRAYDON watched the press conference with his wife in their cabin in the Maryland mountains. “Well, that’s a relief,” his wife said, turning off the TV.
A U.S. Marshal came into the room. “Judge, the plowing is done, and the road is clear now. Are you ready to go?”
“Thanks, Bill, I guess we are.” Gray don and his wife got into their coats and followed the marshal out to the judge’s black SUV.
“Better let me drive, Judge,” the marshal said. “There’s still ice, and we’re trained for this sort of thing.”
Graydon, who preferred to drive himself, reluctantly handed over the keys and got into the front passenger seat, while the marshal assisted his wife into the rear. After a moment, they were headed down the mountainside, followed by another car carrying two marshals.
Graydon instinctively grabbed for the dashboard as the car hit a slippery spot and skidded a little. “Watch it, Bill,” he said.
“Judge, please fasten your seat belt,” the marshal said.
Graydon, who detested seat belts and felt they were an infringement on his civil rights, grudgingly reached for his seat belt.
At that moment, the car began to skid again.
“Hang on, Judge,” the marshal said. “It’s going to be all right.”
But then the SUV was suddenly traveling sideways.
“What the hell?” the marshal was able to say before they crashed through the guard rail.
Justice Graydon saw the river far below rushing up at him. He was not able to fasten his seat belt before they crashed.
ED RAWLS watched the press conference in the warden’s office.
“Why were you so interested in that, Ed?”
“Just curious,” Rawls replied. He hadn’t expected to be mentioned, but still, he was disappointed.
“All right, Ed,” the warden said, standing up and extending two envelopes. “Here’s your pardon; it was delivered by messenger a few minutes ago, along with an envelope from the FBI.”
Rawls stuck both in a pocket of his old civilian suit without opening them.
The warden offered his hand. “Good luck, Ed,” he said. “Try to stay out of trouble.”
“You bet, Warden,” Rawls replied, shaking the hand. He followed the guard out of the office, through the prison and to the front gate, where a taxi was waiting. He shook hands with the guard and got into the cab. “Atlanta Airport,” he said.
As the taxi drove away, Rawls opened the first envelope and read over the pardon. “Very satisfactory,” he said aloud.
“What?” the cabdriver asked.
“Just talking to myself,” Rawls replied. He opened the other envelope and found $10,000 in hundred-dollar bills and a cashier’s check for $990,000.
“Very,
very
satisfactory,” he said.
KINNEY AND SMITH were driven away from the White House by an FBI car and driver.
“Bob,” Smith said, “I’ll bet you’re going to be the next director.”
“Oh, shut up, Kerry,” Kinney said. He wanted to get back to his office to call Nancy Kimble.
They rode along in silence for a while, then Smith spoke again. “The Coast Guard still hasn’t found Fay’s body, have they?”
“Not the last I heard,” Kinney said.
“Jesus,” Smith said. “I hope the son of a bitch didn’t have a parachute.”
Kinney made a groaning noise. “Kerry, I told you to shut up.”