Read My King The President Online
Authors: Tom Lewis
The sound of the approaching helicopter jerked me out of my mental vacuum. Agent Franklin came in from the second bedroom, straightening his tie. “That’ll be the boss.” He slipped his overcoat on and left, but was back fifteen minutes later. “The President will see you now, over at Aspen. Follow me.”
* * *
Helene Fordham didn’t waste time. As soon as I greeted her and was shown a seat across the low coffee table from her, she said, “I wouldn’t have recognized you, Jeb. I presume that costume and your altered looks are for a good reason. Who have you been hiding from?”
“The man behind it all. The man responsible for the deaths of five people since I saw you last, and the man who arranged to kidnap my father. Judge Ezekiel J. Koontz.”
Her reaction to my comment about Koontz was as if she’d just heard her straight arrow daughter had been arrested for shoplifting. For a moment or so, she made no reply. Recovering, her voice slightly lower, she said, “You have to be joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Can you prove it?”
That was the one question I’d hoped she wouldn’t ask, but knew she would. I shook my head. “Not yet. I’ve been too busy running for my life.” I then told her essentially the same story I’d told Ernie, and just as he had, she listened to it all without interrupting. After I finished, she sat there a couple minutes longer still without commenting. Then, in almost a whisper, said, “Koontz called me yesterday, offering to help me out in any way I might need him. I had him come to the White House for a long talk.”
She hesitated, then said, “Jeb, I don’t know how to tell you this, but at a press conference this morning at eight o’clock, I announced his appointment to the Office of Vice President.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I’m sorry, but it’s done. I’ll have to deal with all that later.” She straightened. Lifted her chin up in that resolute way she always had. “First we must decide on what to do about you. And your father. Any suggestions?”
I told her about the diary idea. “But I need some help with it. I need to talk to people who knew both Mac McCarty and President Tyndall.”
“Names, Jeb. Give me some names.”
I looked our new President square in the eye. If there was anyone who could do this, it was her. “Two, and neither are going to be easy. Sergeant Joe Mackenzie, who was Tyndall’s personal driver back when he was a General, and Abby McCarty, Mac’s wife.”
She nodded, got up and walked to her desk, picked up a pen and wrote the names down, along with Mackenzie’s Bethesda address, saying, “Ernie Latham was right, Jeb. There is no law against helping elect a President. I suppose I helped, too, in my own naïve way, and it’s going to be virtually impossible to nail Koontz’s hide to the wall regarding the deaths of all those people, especially now. Without rock-solid proof, we couldn’t touch him. Can you imagine the outcry in the country, especially in the press, if we tried? I’d be crucified. Drawn and quartered. On the other hand, I don’t really believe Jean Tyndall would take her own life either.” She returned to her chair, facing me. “There has to be a way. A better way than the crude bluff you tried before. First things first, however. I got you and your father into this mess, and I feel responsible for getting you both out of it, and in one piece. Do you have any notion of how we can do that?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“I’m listening.”
I took a deep breath and laid out the second part of the idea that had been forming in my mind since flying away from Cancelossi’s yacht. “My guess is that the toughest nut you’ll have to crack in your presidency will be the military. They’ve never had a lady boss-man. What if you called Cornelius Ferris and told him that because of that fact, you want to spring a surprise ‘inspection visit’ to several military bases? He is, after all,
your
Secretary of Defense now, and his reaction to having to set such a trip up on short notice might be very revealing. If I’m allowed to go with you, I might find a way to exchange the diary for my Dad. This Sergeant Mackenzie I mentioned knows his way around Fort Bragg, and—”
“You’re talking about a diversion.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m talking a major league diversion.”
A smile crept around the corners of her mouth. “I’ll say one thing for you, Mr. Jeb Willard. You’ve got one hell of an imagination.”
I grinned back at her. “It’s the only weapon I have to fight with, Ms. President. Plus, I’m sure Cal and I can find the proof we need against old Snow White, that is, if we can stay alive long enough to do it. The country has to learn that he’s responsible for a lot more than rigging an election, Vice President or not.”
She leaned back, thinking it over. At last she said, “I’ll never get my job done properly until this is behind me. Your idea is a good one, Jeb. Workable. I’ll get back to the oval office and make a few calls. Anything else you need?”
“Well, if it’s cricket, I’d really like for Mr. Franklin to take me back into town to the bank. With all this running, I’m almost out of money, and I’ll need some for sure.”
“Not a good idea, Jeb. People think you’re dead, remember? I’ll see that you have sufficient funds for whatever you need. You just sit tight here until you hear from me again, and get to work on that diary. Anything else?”
“Is it all right to use the phone in Holly?”
“Certainly. Your calls will be monitored, though. Who do you have to reach, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Mac’s sister. I left her in Tryon’s Cove when I took the nuns south.”
This time President Fordham laughed as she stood up, glancing at her watch. “Quite in character. I think I understand.” She put out her hand. “Good bye for now, Jeb. I’ll be in touch soon.”
As if on cue, my two keepers showed up at the door and wordlessly escorted me back to my cabin. A few minutes later I heard the helicopter take off for her twenty-five minute return trip to the White House. I poured yet another cup of coffee, went back into the bedroom and picked up the phone.
“She’s not here, Jeb.”
“Lollie, this is no time for jokes. What are you saying?”
“I’m sayin’ she isn’t here. That big boss nun came back here yesterday with a honest-to-God Bishop in a big car and Liz took off with them. The Reverend and I were both mighty upset, but I reckon there wasn’t much we could do about it. Liz left of her own free will. Said if you called to tell you she was fine and not to worry about her.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s it. I’m sorry Jeb. She’s one sweet girl. Pitched in around here like she was born to it. Put Ruby and Pearl to shame, she worked so hard.”
“All right, Lollie. Wasn’t your fault. Thanks for all you’ve done. By the way, I hope no one else in Tryon’s Cove knows I’d been there.”
“Not one soul outside our family.”
“Good. Keep it that way, please. I’ll get back to you soon. Promise.”
“Whatever you say, son. Any idea when Mr. Cal’s comin’ home?”
I took a deep breath. “It won’t be long, Lollie. We’re both really busy just now. You take care, and give my best to the Reverend.”
I didn’t have time just then to speculate about Liz’s departure from Tryon’s Cove, or her destination. I called information, asked for Bethesda, Maryland, and requested the number for Betty Kucinski. After giving it to me, the polite recorded operator dialed it for me.
“Hello?”
“Miz , this is Jeb Willard.”
“Mr. Willard? You ain’t
dead
?”
“No, not yet. I’m sorry to spring such a surprise on you, but it’s vital I talk to your husband. Is he there?”
“No, sir. He’s over at the gym, workin’ out. Under a different name, of course. Should be back in about an hour. Can I have him call you somewhere?”
“No. Listen carefully, please. Members of President Fordham’s Secret Service detail will be coming to pick him up. Tell him I said not to worry. He’ll be safe. They’re going to bring him to talk to me. Maybe both of you.”
“Bring us where?”
“I’m at Camp David.”
“You’re sure he’ll be safe?”
“Yes, ma’am. Absolutely certain. You have my word on it, and the word of the President of the United States.”
I paced the floor for hours, listening for the sound of a helicopter, a car, or the telephone. Nothing happened until well after midnight. Franklin came in, bringing with him a fleece-lined overcoat, scarf, and, bless him, a plaid hunter’s cap. I followed him to the door of the cabin named Laurel, waited while he knocked twice, then walked inside and found myself gazing into the warm brown eyes of Abigail McCarty.
And the cold gray ones of Thurmond Frye.
Chapter 21
There wasn’t much time to react. I hugged Abby and whispered into her ear, “Thanks for coming. I’ll explain everything shortly. Let me talk to Frye first.” She gave me a silent, weak nod, and went into the bedroom where I assumed her twins were. I turned then to the FBI man whose gray eyes seemed to be full of unanswered questions mixed with unhidden contempt. I put out a hand, which he ignored. Instead, he did something quite remarkable and totally unexpected. He reached inside his coat, removed both his weapon and his ID wallet, which he placed on the table next to the sofa. Lightning fast, he wheeled back around and looped a right cross to my jaw that knocked me backwards against the door I’d come through. I was stunned more than hurt; glad he hadn’t put his whole weight behind the punch. “That’s for Mavis, you son of a bitch,” he growled. “No more games, friend Willard. Start talking, and this time you’d better tell me the truth.”
“Okay, I had that coming,” I answered, rubbing my smarting jaw. “But first you tell me why you’re here.”
“Orders. The President called my boss who ordered me to drop everything and personally escort Mrs. McCarty and the kids to the White House. President Fordham then commanded me to bring them here. Told me in no uncertain terms to cooperate with you!”
“What else did she tell you?”
“Nothing. But you’d better. Otherwise, you and I are going to seriously tangle, even it costs me my job.”
I raised both hands. “All right. Cool off and sit down, for God’s sake. This may take a while.”
He parked it on the arm of the sofa, crossed his arms, and said, “I’m listening, and this had better be good.”
I waited a couple of beats. “You know about Father Flaherty?”
Frye raised one eyebrow. “I know he’s dead. Captain Kemp is going nuts, too. So is my team. What do you know about it?”
“I was there. At the church, I mean. Probably no more than an hour after Hemiola cut his throat. But she’ll never cut another one.”
“She?”
“Yep. Hemiola was a woman.” Feeling I had no other choice, I told Frye about my two trips to south Florida, and what had happened on the second one. “…And that’s the truth, Thurmond, so help me God. You can call your people and Kemp if you want to. No sense in any of you spinning your wheels any longer over Hemiola.”
Frye pursed his lips, and sat for a while without saying anything. When he looked back up at me, he had a completely different look in his eyes. Almost human. “Jeb, I’m going to tell you something, and whether you go to jail for a long time or not depends on how close you can keep a secret. I know you think there is a big conspiracy behind President Tyndall’s murder, and I also know you don’t trust me. Otherwise you wouldn’t have run from us. Finally, I know you think Judge Koontz is behind that plot and is also responsible for the deaths of your friends.”
He leaned forward, as if to emphasize how earnest he was and lowered his voice a notch. “I assure you I am not secretly working for Koontz. Just the opposite. I have been on his trail for almost three years now. I know all about the dwarfs, and all about how they got Tyndall elected. As I mentioned to you earlier, my team has been quietly working on something a lot bigger. Something we believe the Judge was up to that’s almost too fantastic to imagine.”
“What?”
“Jeb, with your journalistic experience, maybe you won’t have such a hard time believing what I’m going to tell you. I’m talking about an intricate plot to take over the government! For some time now, the highest officers of the FBI have suspected Judge Koontz was planning to literally become an American dictator, using President Tyndall as his front man. We thought Koontz and Tyndall were actually planning a coup. A military coup. Koontz would have been the brains, Tyndall the brawn. The mouthpiece.
“We also think Tyndall’s wife knew about it, or at least suspected it, and after he was shot, was probably going to spill the whole pot of beans to you. Why, I have no idea. Your cute little ruse about those diaries caught the Judge by surprise. Forced him into some uncharacteristic, rather careless moves, and threw a monkey wrench into my investigation to boot.”
I whistled my surprise, staring at him, until something clicked inside my head. “Wait a minute. You used the past tense. You said you
thought
, not you
think
. Have you people changed your minds?”
“Had to, didn’t we? Nothing added up. If Koontz was planning a coup, why would he have Tyndall killed? It doesn’t make any sense.
Nothing
makes any sense. Besides, I didn’t have one shred of evidence. McCarty blew his own brains out, too, don’t forget. We couldn’t find anything at all connecting him to the Judge. Nothing whatsoever.”
We both sat there for a while, eyeing each other. For my part, I was trying hard to absorb what Frye had told me.
A plot to take over the government
?
How
?
When
?