ABSOLUTE POWER By: DAVID BALDACCI

slowly went down to her desk and stayed there. She began to quietly sob.

Jack looked around again. Was Barry dead? Had there been a terrible

accident and no one had bothered to tell him?

Was the firm that big, that callous? Would he read about it in a firm

memo? He looked at his hands. They were trembling.

He perched on the edge of the desk, gently touched Sheila’s shoulder,

trying to bring her out of it, but without success. Jack looked around

helplessly as the sobs continued, rising higher and higher in their

intensity. Finally, two secretaries from around the corner appeared and

quietly led Sheila away. Each of them gave Jack a not very friendly

glance.

What the hell had he done? He looked at his watch. He had to meet Lord

in ten minutes. Suddenly he was very much looking forward to this lunch.

Lord knew everything that happened at the firm, usually before it

actually did happen.

Then a thought tickled the back of his head, a truly horrible thought.

His mind went back to the White House dinner and his irate fiance. He

had mentioned Barry Alvis by name to her. But she wouldn’t have … ?

Jack practically sprinted down the hallway, the back of his jacket

flapping behind him.

FILLMORE’S WAS A WASHINGTON LANDMARK OF FAIRLY RECENT vintage. The doors

were solid mahogany and bedecked with thick, weighty brass; the carpets

and drapes were handwoven and supremely costly. Each table area was a

self-contained haven of intense mealtime productivity. Phone, fax and

copier services were readily available and widely used. The ornately

carved tables were surrounded by richly upholstered chairs in which sat

the truly elite of Washington’s business and political circles. The

prices ensured that the clientele would remain that way.

While crowded, the pace of the restaurant was unhurried; its occupants

unused to being dictated to, they moved at their own level of intensity.

Sometimes their very presence at a particular table, a raised eyebrow, a

stifled cough, a knowing look, was a full day’s work for them, and would

reap huge rewards for them personally or for those whom they

represented. Money and raw power floated through the room in distinct

patterns, coupling and uncoupling.

Waiters in stiff shirts and neat bow ties appeared and then disappeared

at discreetly placed intervals. Patrons were coddled and served and

listened to or left alone as the particular occasion called for. And the

gratuities reflected the clientele’s appreciation.

Fillmore’s was Sandy Lord’s favorite lunch spot. He peered over his

menu, briefly, but methodically surveyed with his intense, gray eyes the

broad expanse of the dining room for potential business or perhaps

something else. He moved his heavy bulk gracefully in his chair and

carefully coaxed a few gray hairs back into place. The trouble was,

familiar faces kept disappearing as time moved forward, stolen away by

death or retirement to points south. He removed a fleck of dust from one

of his monogrammed shirt cuffs and sighed. Lord had picked this

establishment, maybe this town, clean.

He punched on his cellular phone and checked his messages. Walter

Sullivan hadn’t called. If Sullivan’s deal came through, Lord could land

a former Eastern Bloc country as a client.

A whole goddamned country! How much could you charge a country for

legal work? Normally a lot. The problem was the ex-communists had no

money, unless you counted rubles and coupons and kopecks and whatever

else they were using these days, all of which might as well be used for

toilet paper.

That reality did not trouble Lord. What the ex-commies had in abundance

was raw materials that Sullivan was salivating to acquire. That was the

reason Lord had spent three godforsaken months there. , But it would be

worth it if Sullivan came through.

Lord had learned to have his doubts about everyone. But if anyone could

pull this deal off, Walter Sullivan could.

Everything he had touched seemed to multiply to global proportions, and

the droppings that went to his cohorts were truly awe-inspiring. And at

almost eighty, the old man hadn’t slowed a step. He worked fifteen-hour

days, was married to a twenty-something babe right out of a drive-in

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