pleadings; oh how a bottle of Jack could change a person.
“Of course it is, Alan, but some decisions have to be made. Some
alternative strategies have to be developed depending on what we find
ourselves faced with.”
“I can’t exactly cancel my schedule. Besides, this guy can’t do
anything.”
Russell shook her head. “We can’t be sure of that.”
“Think about it! He’ll have to admit to burglary to even place himself
there. Can you see him trying to get on the evening news with that
story? They’ll put him in a rubber room in a New York minute.” The
President shook his head. “I’m safe. This guy cannot touch me, Gloria.
Not in a million years.”
They had worked out a threshold strategy on the limo ride back to town.
Their position would be simple: categorical denial. They would let the
absurdity of the allegation, if it ever came, do their work for them.
And it was an absurd story despite the fact that it was absolutely true.
Sympathy from the White House for the poor, unbalanced and admitted
felon and his shamefaced family.
There was, of course, another possibility, but Russell had chosen not to
address that with the President just yet. In fact she concluded it was
the more likely scenario. It was really the only thing allowing her to
function.
“Stranger things have happened.” She looked at him.
“The place was cleaned, right? There’s nothing left to find, right,
except her?” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice.
“Right.” Russell licked her lips. The President didn’t know that the
letter opener with his prints and blood on it was now in the possession
of their felonious eyewitness.
She stood up and paced. “Of course I can’t speak about certain traces of
sexual contact. But that wouldn’t be linked to you in any event.”
“Jesus, I can’t even remember if we did it or not. It seems like I did.”
She couldn’t help smiling at his remark.
The President turned and looked at her. “What about Burton and Collin?”
“What about them?”
“Have you talked to them?” His message was clear enough.
“They have as much to lose as you, don’t they, Alan?”
“As us, Gloria, as us.” He fixed his tie in the mirror. “Any clue to the
Peeping Tom?”
“Not yet; they’re running the plate.”
“When do you think they’ll realize she’s missing?”
“As warm as it’s been during the day, soon I hope.”
“Real funny, Gloria.”
“She’ll be missed, inquiries will be made. Her husband will be called,
they’ll go to the house. The next day, maybe two, maybe three tops.”
“And then the police will investigate.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that.”
“But you’ll keep on top of it?” A trace of concern crossed the
President’s brow as he thought swiftly through various scenarios. Had he
tucked Christy Sullivan? He hoped that he had, At least the night
wouldn’t have been a total disaster.
‘@As much as we can without arousing too much suspicion.”
“That’s easy enough. You can use the angle that Walter Sullivan is a
close friend and political ally of mine. It would be natural for me to
have a personal interest in the case. Think things through, Gloria,
that’s what I pay you for.,”
And you were sleeping with his wife, Russell thought.
Some friend.
“That rationale had already occurred to me, Alan.”
She lit a cigarette, blew the smoke out slowly. That felt good. She had
to keep ahead of him on this. Just one small step ahead and she would be
fine. It wouldn’t be easy; he was sharp, but he was also arrogant.
Arrogant people habitually overestimated their own abilities and
underestimated everyone else’s.
“And nobody knew she was meeting you?”
“I think we can assume she was discreet, Gloria. Christy didn’t have too
much upstairs, her gifts were slightly lower, but she understood
economics with the best of them.” The President winked at his Chief of
Staff. “She had about eight hundred million to lose if her husband found
out she was screwing around, even with the President.”
Russell knew about Walter Sullivan’s odd viewing habits from the mirror
and chair, but then again, for the assignations he didn’t know about,