“No argument there. Just like us all.”
The President closed the binder he had been examining and stood up,
surveyed the White House grounds from the window.
“So the man will shortly be in custody?” He turned to look at Russell.
“So it would seem.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that the best-laid plans sometimes go awry.”
“Does Burton know?”
“Burton seems to have orchestrated the entire thing.”
The President walked over to Russell; put his hand on her arm.
“What are you talking about?”
Russell relayed the events of the last few days to her boss.
The President rubbed his jaw. “What is Burton up to?”
The question was said more to himself than to Russell.
“Why don’t you buzz him and ask him yourself ? the only point he was
absolutely insistent on was your relaying the message to Sullivan.”
“Sullivan? Why the hell would…” The President did not finish his
thought. He tang for Burton but was told he had suddenly become ill and
gone to the hospital.
the President’s eyes bored into his Chief of Staff. “Is Burton going to
do what I think he’s going to do?”
“Depends on what you’re thinking.”
“Cut the games, Gloria. You know exactly what I mean.”
“If you mean does Burton intend on making sure that this individual is
never taken into custody, yes, that thought had crossed my mind.”
The President fingered a heavy letter opener on his desk, sat down in
his chair and faced out the window. Russell shuddered when she looked at
it. She had thrown the one on her desk away.
“Alan? What do you want me to do?” She stared at the back of his head.
He was the President and you had to sit and wait patiently, even if you
wanted to reach across and throttle him.
Finally he swiveled around. The eyes were dark, cold and commanding.
“Nothing. I want you to do nothing. I better get in @? touch with
Sullivan. Give me the location and time again.
Russell thought the same thing she had earlier as she recounted the
information. Some friend.
The President picked up his phone. Russell reached across and put her
hand on top of his. “Alan, the reports said Christine Sullivan had
bruises on her jaw and had been partially strangled.”
The President didn’t look up. “Oh really?”
“What exactly happened in that bedroom, Alan?”
“Well, from the small pieces I can remember she wanted to play a bit
rougher than I did. The marks on her neck?” He paused and put down the
phone. “Let’s just put it this way: Christy was into a lot of kinky
things, Gloria. Including sexual asphyxiation. You know, people get off
when they’re gasping for air and climaxing at the same time.”
“I’ve heard of it, Alan, I just didn’t think you’d be into something
like that.” Her tone was harsh.
The President snapped back: “Remember your place, Russell. I do not
answer to you or anyone else for my actions.”
She stepped back, and quickly said, “Of course, I’m sorry, Mr.
President.”
Richmond’s face relaxed; he stood up and spread his arms resignedly. “I
did it for Christy, Gloria, what can I say.
Women sometimes have strange effects on men. I’m certainly not immune to
it.”
“So why did she try to kill you?”
“Like I said, she wanted to play rougher than I did. She was drunk and
she just went out of control. Unfortunate, but those things happen.”
Gloria looked past him out the window. The encounter with Christine
Sullivan did not just “happen.” The time and planning that had gone into
that rendezvous had eventually taken on the elements of a full-blown
election campaign. She shook her head as the images from that night
poured back to her.
The President came up behind her, gripped her shoulders, turned her to
him.
“it was an awful experience for everyone, Gloria. I certainly didn’t
want Christy to die. It was the last thing in the world I wanted. I went
there to have a quiet, romantic evening with a very beautiful woman. My
God, I’m no monster.” A disarming smile emerged across his face.
“I know that, Alan. It’s just, all those women, all those times.