“A strange disappearance in Madagascar, similar to the one in Oregon. Disappearances in India, similar to the one in New Mexico. A slaughter in Brazil, just like the one in Florida.”
Benita swallowed deeply. “Is there any common thread, any indication . . .”
The SOS said in a dry voice, “A common thread, yes. They were all in rural or remote areas, all of them unobserved, where people were working in or near jungles or forests. The men in Florida were digging ditches.”
“And allof it has happened sincethe envoys arrived,” said the FL flatly. “And the Congress has access to the same information we’re getting.”
“It couldn’t be Chiddy and Vess,” said Benita. “It’s not what they do.”
“You can understand that we do need to know,” pressed the FL. “And since you are the intermediary, you’re the only one we can ask to find out.”
Benita stared at her plate, thinking furiously. “These men who are out to get the president. Do you know who they are?”
The PL’s lips twisted. “Your senator, Byron Morse, for one.”
“He’s from my state, but he’s not my senator,” she replied. “Who else?”
Chad said, “McVane, as you might have suspected. They have a few smart goons working for them, men named Dinklemier, Arthur, and Briess. There’s a whole ring of them over at the Pentagon. There are others buried not very deeply in the Fascist Right, you know, Buchanan’s bunch. There are others, quite a few, CIA or ex-CIA, most of them, and there are several other legislators. McVane and Morse are the ringleaders. Or I should say cabal leaders. It’s definitely a cabal.”
Benita said, “Then what’s to have stopped these people from committing atrocities in India and Oregon and the other places, just to hurt the president’s credibility? If they’re CIA, they have the resources to do things like that, don’t they?”
The FL said soothingly, “It’s entirely possible, Benita. But we need toknow.”
“Next time I see them,” she said. “I haven’t seen them for several days.”
“I hate putting you under pressure this way,” said the FL. “Is there anything we can do for you? You don’t sound terribly happy.”
Benita laughed. “My son is being harassed by a small man with a ratty mustache who is offering him money to find out where I am . . .”
“We know who that is,” muttered Chad.
“. . . my husband is evidently also being solicited for his help, though not by the same man. I haven’t spoken to Chiddy or Vess for several days, and now you’re telling me about some more or less indiscriminate slaughter. I hear nothing in all that to make me even slightly happy.”
“Ratty mustache?” said the FL, looking at Chad.
“Definitely Briess,” he said, staring at Benita. “Part of the Morse Cabal. Benita, when did you hear he was bothering your kids?”
“Friday, when I spoke to Angelica on the phone, she said my son had been paid to get caller ID to trace where I am when I call them.”
“That won’t do them any good, will it?” the First Lady asked Chad.
“No. Caller ID won’t help him. But if they’ve talked to her son, they might try something more sophisticated from that end, with or without his help.”
“Can you prevent that?”
“We can play games. Escalate the complications. No barrier is ever unbreakable, but we can keep them off for a while.”
“Make them think I’m in Denver,” murmured Benita. “That’s the impression I’ve been giving them.”
The SOS set down her glass and wiped her lips, making a strange face. “You know, in recent years I’ve dealt with people who live in very different worlds from the one I’m familiar with. Some cultures are more foreign to me than the Pistachi In Iran or Arabia or Afghanistan, you’d swear there were no women in the society. They are as invisible as ghosts and have approximately the same status as cows. In parts of Latin America, family pride is so delicately balanced you have to watch every word. I try to see their point of view, of course, but the dissonance often gives me a feeling of unreality. Their societies haven’t changed fundamentally for . . . centuries.