dispense drugs directly into the bloodstream.”
Sawyer’s face betrayed his astonishment. Walter Burns and his secrets.
“The Fed chairman has six months to live and nobody knows?
Where’d you get the info?”
“I found a bottle of chemotherapy drugs in the medicine cabinet at his
apartment. Then I went right to the source. His personal physician.
Told him we were just doing routine background inquiries.
Lieberman’s personal calendar evidenced a lot of doctor visits.
Some visits to Johns Hopkins, another to the Mayo Clinic. Then I
mentioned the medication I’d found. The doc was nervous when I asked
him about it. I subtly suggested that not telling the whole truth to
the FBI could land his keister in a shitload of trouble.
When I mentioned a subpoena, he cracked. He probably figured the
patient was dead, what the hell would he care.”
“What about the White House? They had to know.”
“If they’re playing straight with us, they were in the dark too. I
talked with the chief of staff about Lieberman’s little secret. I don’t
think he believed me at first. Had to remind him FBI stands for
fidelity, bravery and integrity. I also sent over a copy of the medical
records to him. Word is the president went ape-shit when he saw them.”
“That’s an interesting twist,” Sawyer said. “I always understood
Lieberman was some financial god. Solid as a rock. And yet he forgets
to mention he’s about to check out with cancer and leave the country in
the lurch. That doesn’t make much sense.”
Jackson grinned. “Just reporting the facts. You’re right about the
guy’s abilities. He’s a bonafide legend. However, personally, he
wasn’t in such great shape financially.”
“What do you mean?” Sawyer asked.
Jackson turned the pages of his fat notebook and then stopped.
He flipped the notebook around and slid it across to Sawyer. Sawyer
stared down at the information while Jackson continued his report.
“Lieberman was divorced about five years ago after twenty-five years of
marriage. Apparently he was a naughty boy caught fooling around on the
side. The timing could not have been worse. He was just about to go
through Senate confirmation hearings for the Fed position. His wife
threatened to shred him in the papers. The Fed chairmanship, which I’m
told Lieberman coveted, would’ve gone bye-bye real quick. To get rid of
the problem, Lieberman gave just about everything he had to his ex. She
died just a couple of years ago. To complicate matters, rumor has it
his twenty-something girlfriend had expensive tastes. The Fed job is
prestigious, but it doesn’t pay the Wall Street bucks, nor anywhere
near. Fact is, Lieberman was up to his ass in debt. Lived in a crummy
apartment over on Capitol Hill while trying to crawl out of a financial
hole the size of the Grand Canyon. The stack of love letters we found
at the apartment apparently came from her.”
“What happened to the girlfriend?” Sawyer asked.
“Not sure. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d walked out when she found
out her little pot of gold was full of the big C.”
“Any idea where she is now?”
Jackson shook his head. “From all accounts, she’s been out of the
picture for some time now. I tracked down several colleagues of
Lieberman’s back in New York. The woman was beautiful but brainless
according to them.”
“It’s probably a waste of time, but make some more inquiries on her
anyway, Ray.”
Jackson nodded.
Sawyer looked at Barracks. “Any word from the Hill on who’s going to
take Lieberman’s slot?”
When Barracks answered, Sawyer was rocked for the second time in less
than a minute.
“General consensus: Walter Burns.”
Sawyer stared at Barracks for several moments and then wrote the name
“Walter Burns” in his notebook. In the margin next to it he scribbled
the word “asshole” and then the word “suspect” with a question mark next
to it.
Sawyer looked up from his notebook. “Sounds like our Mr. Lieberman was
riding a streak of particularly bad luck. So why kill him?”
“Lots of reasons,” Barracks spoke up. “The Fed chairman is the symbol
of American monetary policy. Make a nice little target for some third