Term Limits (52 page)

“So you would like me to sit on it?”

“Yes and no. I do not want what Arthur did for the Agency to become public, but there is an issue I need resolved, and to do that I think I'm going to need you to threaten an all-out investigation.”

“This is where Garret comes in?”

“Yes, Arthur was not dumped on his lawn without reason. He and Nance were involved in something with Arthur.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be at this point.… Last night, after Arthur was kidnapped and before his body
was discovered, I went to the White House to brief the National Security Council. When I told them that Arthur had been abducted, Garret became noticeably agitated. So much so that I had to stop in midsentence and ask him if he knew Arthur personally. Garret said no… that he had only heard of him through Mike Nance.” Stansfield frowned. “You know as well as I do, Stu Garret doesn't show concern for anyone unless he stands to lose something. Later, when I told them that Arthur's body had been discovered on Garret's lawn, he almost had a nervous breakdown.”

“Did he admit to any involvement with Higgins?”

“No, he still denied it.”

“What did Nance say?”

“He wasn't at the meeting. He was tied up somewhere else. I left the White House a little more than suspicious. Garret was hiding something, and my suspicion was soon backed up by two disturbing facts. Arthur's autopsy revealed sodium pentothal in his blood. He was interrogated, but whoever did it must have only wanted a specific piece of information; there wouldn't have been time for more. We also have a surveillance video from Arthur's security room with Garret and Nance on it. They visited him last Saturday, and Nance also came alone on Thursday—which means Garret lied to me about not knowing Arthur.”

“So what role would you like me to play?”

“I need you to threaten a full-scale investigation. We'll give them two options. They can either sit down with my people and tell them everything they know under the protection of the national
secrecy act, or they can give a deposition to you and your agents and risk prosecution.”

Roach thought about it for a minute. “As you said earlier, this case is under the jurisdiction of the FBI. What if at some point I decide to pursue the investigation regardless of any deal you may have struck with Nance and Garret?”

“That's entirely up to you.”

Stu Garret paced frantically behind his desk with a cigarette in hand. Mike Nance sat stiff and upright on the couch. He'd been watching Garret for the last ten minutes, waiting for the Valium to kick in, straining to control the urge to bash Garret over the head with a lamp. He had to stay calm… above everything he had to stay calm.

Garret stopped and pointed his cigarette at Nance. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I must have been out of my fucking mind when I agreed to get into bed with Arthur.”

Nance bit down on his lip and said, “Stu, do you think your emotional tirades are doing us any good?”

“Hey, don't give me that cool-as-ice attitude. You deal with it your way, and I'll deal with it my way.… Fuck!” Garret took a vacuumlike pull off his cigarette and his face turned bright red.

Nance stood abruptly and raised his voice. “All right, I'll do things your way! Sit down and shut up! We have a meeting with Stansfield in ten minutes, and we are going to have to come up with some answers as to why Arthur's body ended up on your lawn… and if you don't get control of your emotions,
Stansfield will tear you to shreds!” Nance stared hard at Garret.

Garret exhaled and his shoulders slumped. “I'm sorry, Mike, I just can't believe all of this is happening so fast. What in the hell are we going to do? Stansfield is going to want to know why Arthur was found at my house. He knows I was lying to him last night when I told him I'd never met Arthur. What in the fuck am I going to tell him? What am I going to tell the press? What am I going to tell the cops? They're gonna want to talk to me, too.”

Nance put a hand on his shoulder. “Stu, one problem at a time. Don't worry about the cops and don't worry about the press. For the next hour, I need you to stay calm and keep your mouth shut. Stansfield is our main problem. Now just sit down and relax while I tell you what we're going to do.”

Garret sank into the couch and stuck a cigarette in his mouth.

Nance paced slowly across the room. “I have a good idea for damage control.” With his hands on his hips, he turned and said, “We tell Stansfield the truth.”

Garret blurted out a loud cackle. “Have you lost your fucking mind! … Yeah… sure… let's tell him the truth…”

Nance stuck his finger in Garret's face. “Stu, this is the last time I'm going to tell you to stay quiet and get control of yourself. Don't forget, Arthur put a price tag on your head before he was killed, and I'm the only one who can rescind the order.” Nance stared as hard and as deep as he could into Garret's eyes, making sure there was no doubt that he was
serious. Garret tried to speak, but Nance cut him off. “Shut up, Stu. Just shut up for the next five minutes!”

Garret bit down on his tongue and nodded.

“We are going to tell Stansfield about our recruitment of Arthur to help get the president's budget passed. We'll tell him that Arthur helped blackmail Congressman Moore. It is simple, it is the truth, and Stansfield will buy it because we can prove it. We admit to some wrongdoing and Stansfield goes away satisfied.”

“What about the press? I can't tell them that.”

“Stu, I'm not going to say it again! We are talking about Stansfield right now! We'll talk about the press later.”

“Should we tell Jim?”

“No! That way he'll have complete deniability. We can tell him after the meeting that we wanted to protect him. Just let me do the talking, and whatever you do, don't lose your cool.”

Nance finished filling Garret in on the plan, and when he was done, they went down to the Situation Room. Nance stopped when he entered the room and looked for Stansfield. He wasn't there yet, but the Joint Chiefs, the secretary of state, and the secretary of defense were. Nance quickly realized they could not be present when he gave Stansfield their excuse.

Nance walked to the far end of the room where the president was sitting and whispered into his ear, “Sir, for reasons I can't discuss right now, I need you to excuse the Joint Chiefs, the secretary of defense, and the secretary of state from the meeting.”

“Won't that look rather unusual?”

“Please, trust me, sir. We need to talk to Director Stansfield alone.… It's for the best. I'll explain later.”

Stevens hesitated for a second and then looked at Garret and made the connection. Clearing his throat, he said, “Gentlemen, there has been a slight change of plans. I am going to need to talk to Director Stansfield alone. If the rest of you could wait for us in the Cabinet Room, we'll join you just as soon as possible.”

The generals and admirals all stood and gave Garret a look as they headed for the door. They all knew who Arthur Higgins was and wanted to know why he had been found dead on the chief of staff's lawn. They continued out the door, and Nance closed it behind them.

Stevens asked, “Are you two going to tell me what in the hell is going on?”

“Mr. President, sir… I think it would be best if we waited for Director Stansfield to get here,” replied Nance in his cool and detached voice.

“Why?”

“You are going to want complete deniability on this one, sir.”

Stevens frowned. “What in the hell have you two been up to?” The president looked to Garret for the answer, but Nance gave it.

“Sir, this will not affect your presidency. You are just going to have to trust me that it will be best if you look surprised when we tell Director Stansfield what our connection with Arthur was.”

MICHAEL SAT ABOVE THE REST OF THE MORNING traffic as he rolled through downtown D.C. in his forest green Chevy Tahoe. He was tired and nervous. His nerves were shot from a lack of sleep and too much coffee, not to mention the little excursion involving Arthur. When he was about four blocks away from the Hoover Building, he dialed the phone number for the main switchboard. After several rings a woman with a pleasant voice answered.

“Federal Bureau of Investigation. How may I help you?”

“Special Agent McMahon, please.”

“Just one moment.”

The phone started to ring again and then another person answered. “Special Agent McMahon's office.”

“Special Agent McMahon, please.”

“Special Agent McMahon is away from his desk right now. May I ask who is calling?”

“Is he in the building this morning?”

“I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to answer that. May I ask who is calling?”

Michael hit the brakes to avoid ramming a cab that pulled out in front of him. “This is Congressman O'Rourke, and I need to speak with him… it's extremely urgent!”

“Special Agent McMahon is very busy right now. It would help if I could tell him what it was that you wanted.”

“I don't want anything. I need to give him something that I think he will be very interested in.”

“What is it regarding?”

Michael let out an audible sigh. “Listen, I know you're only trying to do your job, but this is something that I can't talk about over the phone.”

“You said your name was Congressman O'Rourke?”

“Yes.”

“I'll see if I can track him down, but it would help if I could give him even the slightest hint as to what you wanted. He has been getting a lot of phone calls from congressmen and senators lately.”

“I don't want anything from him. I want to give him something. Something that will have an enormous impact on his investigation.”

“Just one minute, Congressman. I'll see if I can track him down.”

With his digital phone clutched to his ear, O'Rourke circled the Hoover Building. Several minutes later, McMahon answered the phone.

“Congressman O'Rourke, sorry to keep you waiting. How are you doing?”

“I've been better.”

“Sorry to hear that. What can I do for you?”

“I have something that I need to give you.”

“What is it?”

“I don't want to talk about it over the phone.”

“All right, let me get my Day-Timer and see when I have an opening.”

“This can't wait.”

“Congressman, do you have any idea how busy I am right now?”

“Yes, I do. Believe me, it won't be a waste of your time.”

McMahon paused. “When do you want to meet?”

“I'm down on the street, in my truck.”

“Ah … I'm in the middle of something right now, can you give me an hour?”

Michael tried to sound as relaxed as he could. “Special Agent McMahon, do you want to know who killed Senator Olson and Congressman Turnquist?”

There was a moment of silence on the line and then McMahon responded, “All right, I'll be down in five minutes. Pick me up at the south entrance.”

O'Rourke completed one more circle and pulled up to the curb. McMahon came out of the building a moment later and approached the truck with someone Michael didn't recognize. Michael rolled down the passenger window and McMahon leaned in, sticking his hand out. Michael grabbed it and said, “Who is she?”

“This is Irene Kennedy. She works for the CIA and has been helping out with the investigation.”

“Get in,” replied O'Rourke.

McMahon climbed in the front seat and Kennedy got in back. Michael put the car into drive and pulled back out into traffic. Looking in the rearview mirror, Michael asked, “What do you do for the CIA, Dr. Kennedy?”

“I'm an analyst.”

“What do you analyze?”

“Terrorism is my specialty.”

“Are you familiar with a guy by the name of Arthur Higgins?”

Kennedy moved forward. “Very.… What do you know about him?”

Michael reached down and grabbed a letter-sized manila envelope from the center console and handed it to McMahon. “I found this on my doorstep this morning along with a tape, and you're not going to believe what's on it.” Michael put the tape into the cassette player.

Stansfield and Roach entered the Situation Room and sat across the table from Nance and Garret. Both directors said hello to the president, but ignored his national security adviser and chief of staff.

Nance hadn't planned on Roach coming. He forced a slight smile onto his face and said, “Director Roach, we weren't informed that you would be joining us this morning.”

“I asked him to come,” replied Stansfield. “Arthur was transported across state lines and killed. The investigation falls under the jurisdiction of the FBI.”

“What investigation?” asked Nance.

“The investigation into his death.”

“Surely you aren't serious. We can't have what Arthur did for the CIA brought under public scrutiny.”

“That will be up to Director Roach and the Justice Department.” Stansfield looked at the president. “Sir, may I be blunt?”

“I would prefer it,” responded an aggravated Stevens.

“Arthur Higgins was privy to a rather large amount of highly classified information. My foremost concern is to identify the correlation between his being taken from his estate and being left at Mr. Garret's house. I have to know what Arthur's relationship was with Mr. Garret so I can assess any possible damage to the Agency. We can go about this one of two ways: Mr. Garret can either tell me and my people everything he knows under the protection of the national secrecy act, or he can tell his story under deposition to the FBI.”

The president looked at Garret and said, “Stu?”

Garret turned to Nance for direction. Nance cleared his throat and said, “Director Roach, would you excuse us for a minute?”