Jim McGill 04 The Last Ballot Cast, Part 2 Page 26

  That made it all the more unusual that there were four visitors in the room.

  Three of them young.

  Kenny and Caitie McGill sat along the side wall near the entrance to the room. Next to Caitie sat Cassidy Kimbrough. With Cassidy was her mother, Sheryl.

  The president began, “I can’t say Jennifer Dean was a friend of mine, but she might have become one, if she had not chosen to take her own life. When I knew her, she was young, beautiful and talented. Chances were good she would have had a life most people might have envied. But she got hit hard by three of the most daunting emotional traumas anyone can experience, and they came in quick succession.

  “She suffered a professional setback when she failed to get a part in a movie that went to me. Her father died unexpectedly in his mid-forties. And the young man she’d dated for two years left her for someone else just when she needed him most. Family or a professional counselor might have pulled Jenny out of that awful tailspin, but she spent her last days alone. With no one to reassure her that things could get better, she took her own life.”

  The president’s face turned hard. “Jennifer Dean’s death was a tragedy. That it should be used as part of a political smear attempt all these years later is despicable. It renews the heartbreak all of Jenny’s family members and friends felt when they lost her.

  “An act of such cruelty should be punished, and Attorney General Jaworksy is going to see that it will. Trying to link me to the death of Jennifer Dean for political advantage constitutes a fraud upon the American public. Someone is seeking to gain a job for his or her preferred candidate that pays four hundred thousand dollars a year for at least four years and possibly eight years by deceiving the people who hold the power to make that decision.

  “My administration will not tolerate such a fraud being perpetrated. The FBI is working right now to find the people behind the misnamed group Americans for Truth who paid for the fraudulent attack now popularly known as Presidential Confidential. When they are found, they will be arrested, indicted and tried.

  “At this moment, Elton Galbreath, the chief executive officer of Ubiquity Cable Television, is being taken into custody for facilitation of fraud. He either knew or should have known his company has televised a fraudulent ad that sought to deny the American people their chance of having an honest presidential election.”

  The news that a corporate titan, a multi-billionaire, would be brought to trial for airing a political ad had every newsy in the room dying to leap out of his or her chair and shout a question, but all of them saw the president shake her head. The woman was still furious. Crossing her now could be professional suicide.

  The president continued, “This loathsome attack commercial mentioned two other actors by name, one of whom was given a speaking role in it. Jeremy Danvers was said to be my costar in a film. He was a day player in a movie in which I was featured. I never met him.

  “Day player is movie jargon for an actor who is hired for one day’s work. It’s an emotionally trying job done by people who passionately want to act for a living. Typically, they give their all to say no more than a single line of dialogue. They hope someone will see they are capable of so much more. For them, hope and disappointment are most often conjoined twins.

  “I don’t know whether the medication that caused Jeremy Danver’s terrible auto accident was prescribed or taken illicitly. In either case, impaired driving is always unacceptable and often a tragic mistake. My condolences go out to the families of the young man and woman who lost their lives. I hope they and Jeremy Danvers can find some measure of peace, and that this vile attempt to smear me has not damaged them further.

  “I never met Paige Nelson, never knew we competed for anything. But I understand all too well the tremendous pressure a young woman can feel to conform to impossible standards of beauty. There were times when I ate fewer than a thousand calories a day and thought that it was far too much. Fortunately for me, one day I looked at myself in a mirror and saw the structure of my rib cage all too clearly. I thought, ‘Now, that is ugly. If that’s what it takes to get a role, to hell with it.’”

  The president shook her head, as the memory ran through her mind.

  She said, “What Paige Nelson needs to do right now is to get some real help. Paige, if that’s something you can’t afford it, call me. I’ll find someone to help you.”

  The president paused once more.

  “The ad that slandered me did the same to the movie industry. It’s true that Hollywood is not a place for the timid. Egos run amok and all too often they are supported by huge sums of money. Business deals can be cutthroat, friendships can be a matter of convenience.

  “Despite all its warts, the film industry still manages to give us movies that entertain us. Some of these films approach the level of real art. In the face of great personal vexation, people both in front of the camera and behind it, strive to put aside their personal differences and get the best possible movie in the can. You can carp all you want about the movies that come out of Hollywood, but very few of us would want to live in a world without filmed entertainment.

  “I will tell you frankly that some of my best friends are actors, and one of the people I love most in the world …” The president gestured to Caitie, who knew a cue when she heard one got to her feet. “Caitie McGill will be acting in her first movie this year.”

  Caitie blew a kiss to her stepmother and got the only laugh of the press conference.

  The president let her smile disappear before she brought her speech to a close.

  “That was a moment of personal pride, but in a more serious vein let me say that no attack on me will ever cause me to abandon any of my friends, even if they make movies for a living.”

  The president exited the room with her guests.

  Leaving Aggie Wu to handle all the questions shouted at the president’s back.

  The Chief of Staff’s Office — the White House.

  Galia Mindel clicked off the television in her office as the president left the press room.

  Patricia Darden Grant had bared her soul.

  Damn thing was as dazzling as the rest of her.

  Fewer than a thousand calories a day? Just the idea made Galia’s stomach growl. She wanted a Danish and she wanted it now. Only she was limiting herself to just under two thousand calories a day — and that was torture.

  Galia’s assessment of the speech was that the president had hit back hard. She’d bet any number of political trolls around the country had come to a screeching halt in the writing and filming of their attack ads. It put a real crimp in the old creative spirit to think that the FBI might come to pay a visit.

  For Elton Galbreath, that had already happened. He was in custody. The plutocracy would be aquiver with terror that the revolution had finally come and they, too, might be hauled off to the calaboose. The upper reaches of the upper crust would also be enraged that one of their own had set this dangerous precedent. If one president could commit such an outrage, who was to say the next one wouldn’t also? Just to show he was as much of a man as Patti Grant.

  For the rest of the population, Galia thought Galbreath’s arrest would play brilliantly. Nobody was above the law with President Grant in the Oval Office. Screw with her, she’d make you pay. Well, that was the way much of the country would feel.

  For a large number of people, however, proof would never refute prejudice. They would believe every last lie in Presidential Confidential was gospel truth. They’d believe that until the day they died. In the meantime, they’d regurgitate the lies they’d swallowed whole.

  Those people and their heirs were beyond reach.

  Fuck ‘em, Galia thought with a grim smile.

  A more serious concern for Galia was the near certainty that she knew who was behind Presidential Confidential: Roger Michaelson. He’d been Patti Grant’s political nemesis from the start. He’d lost his first race for a House seat to her. He’d thought he would be nominated to replace Mather
Wyman as vice president. He’d lost every presidential primary election, save South Carolina, to her, having given up his Senate seat to pursue the presidency.

  He was now done in electoral politics. So what could be sweeter than to take the president down with him. Accusing the president of murder would fit his mood perfectly. He’d probably thought he would get away with it, too.

  No way in the world he’d have done it, or he’d at least have been more careful about how he did it, if he thought the FBI would be tracking him down. Galia had to plan for the way things would look when Roger Michaelson was caught. Not only would the president be advancing the radical notion that political lies were a criminal offense, she’d be bagging her biggest political enemy as only the second offender to be prosecuted.

  That might look just a tad personal.

  Galia would be the one who’d have to make it look completely justified.

  She was about to get back to work when her phone rang. Either the president or —

  McGill. Asking her, “Galia, what would the blowback be if I told the House Committee on Oversight to take the subpoena they sent me and cram it right up their heinies?”

  The White House Mess

  The president and her guests, Kenny, Caitie, Cassidy and Sheryl, had no trouble getting a good table. Service was excellent and Patti told her guests to order whatever they liked. If they weren’t partial to anything on the menu, reasonable requests could be accommodated.

  Caitie told Cassidy, “I know it seems like a kid thing, but the peanut butter and jelly sandwich is crazy good. The peanut butter is the best ever, and you can have your choice of three jellies or ask for all of them.”

  The president smiled. Caitie clearly had no concerns about counting her calories.

  Kenny offered his opinion to their guests, “They do a great burger, too. It’s not on the menu, but they’re real nice about giving you what you want. I’m trying to eat a little smarter these days so I’m going with the grilled tuna salad.”

  Showing a flare for diplomacy, Cassidy said, “Yeah, the tuna sounds good, and maybe I could get half a deluxe PBJ to go?”

  The president said she could. Sheryl ordered a Caesar salad. Patti had the Oriental Mandarin Chicken Salad.

  As they waited for their orders to arrive, Cassidy told Patti, “Madam President, I can’t tell you how much your calls meant to all the other kids and me. We were all kind of in shock, and hearing from you, it was like all of a sudden the whole country was pulling for us.”

  “Thank you, Cassidy. We have many different political opinions in this country, but I’m sure you’re right. Everyone was hoping and praying for your recovery.”

  A large number of Americans, Patti knew, would have thought she was exploiting the situation for political gain if they’d known she’d called the burn victims. But the president had kept that to herself. Just one more secret added to an endless list.

  Caitie, in her usual fashion, bluntly asked Cassidy, “What were those kids doing on a college campus? They were only in high school, right? And why was there such a big fire?”

  The memory was still not easy for Cassidy to deal with, but she said, “They told me they all hope to go to Indiana University. So they thought they’d drive through campus and shoot off fireworks to show off school spirit and then they’d write about it in their college application essays. The fireworks went off early, inside the car. That’s what caused the crash and the fire.”

  Everyone at the table winced. Kenny gave Cassidy’s hand a gentle squeeze.

  She returned the gesture with a small smile.

  Then Cassidy said, “Madam President, I listened carefully to what you said in the press room and I didn’t hear one word of bull-puckey.”

  That got a laugh from Caitie and Kenny.

  Sheryl Kimbrough turned bright red, but she found the nerve to explain her daughter’s comment to the president. Patti laughed.

  She said, “It’s a good idea to be honest with the people who hired you. Sometimes you even have to put a little sting in your honesty. That’s what happened today.”

  “It was mean, the lies that commercial told about you,” Caitie said to Patti. “I’d like to sock someone.”

  Kenny told his sister, “We can’t just go around whacking people, not with Dad teaching us Dark Alley.”

  “What’s Dark Alley?” Cassidy asked.

  Both McGill offspring turned to their stepmother, silently asking whether they should answer.

  Patti took them off the hook. She told the Kimbroughs, “My husband, Kenny and Caitie’s father, practices a little known form of self-defense. He’s passing on his wisdom.”

  “Cool,” Cassidy said.

  The food arrived and the conversation turned to how delicious everything was. Lunch lasted just an hour, but Cassidy and Sheryl had acquired a memory to last a lifetime. Both of them shook Patti’s hand and thanked her repeatedly.

  “It’s the least I can do,” the president said. “Please say hello to your friends in Indiana for me.”

  Caitie bussed both Cassidy and Sheryl on the cheek.

  Kenny shook their hands. He told Cassidy he knew something about kids going through tough times in a hospital. He didn’t live that far from Bloomington. Maybe he could come and visit her and they could go see her friends together.

  Cassidy said, “I’d like that.”

  A mess steward brought Cassidy’s PBJ in a White House doggie bag. He said the chef just didn’t know how to make half-a-sandwich. He hoped she wouldn’t mind getting a whole one.

  In the taxi, on the way back to their hotel, Cassidy told her mother in mock agony, “It kills me that I won’t be able to vote for the president.”

  Sheryl only smiled.

  She thought she might be the only person in the country to cast her vote as a citizen for Patricia Darden Grant and her vote as an elector for Mather Wyman.

  McGill Investigations, Inc.

  “Galia says I’ll have to appear before the committee,” McGill told Sweetie and DeWitt.

  Elspeth and Leo were standing guard in the outer office and in the Chevy respectively.

  Deke Ky was handing off his duties protecting Abbie McGill to Special Agent August Latz. Abbie, ever industrious, was taking two classes during the summer session. Not leaving her the time to have lunch with her sibs and Patti at the White House.

  “That was pretty much to be expected,” DeWitt said. “If a president is going to stiff-arm Congress, it has to be for a big reason.”

  “Not just keeping hubby happy,” McGill said. “Well, it was worth asking.”

  “You could be the next one to get a subpoena,” DeWitt told Sweetie.

  “The Committee on Oversight breaks into my house, I’ll start worrying,” Sweetie told him.

  McGill grinned and said, “Margaret has a point. First things first. We have to assume Todd and his friends are going to make a move to grab her soon.”

  “It might be simpler than that,” DeWitt said.

  “You’re saying they might just shoot me?” Sweetie asked.

  DeWitt said, “That’s pretty much the way they’ve worked in the past, according to their files. They take out someone important whose death diverts a lot of official resources. Then they hit their main target.”

  “Me,” McGill said. “They might even think I’d be so angry I could get clumsy.”

  DeWitt asked, “Is that a fair assessment?”

  McGill said, “I’m pretty good at deferring grief and rage. That’s how I got Erna Godfrey.”

  “Point taken,” DeWitt said. “Another target of distraction might be … me.”

  Sweetie nodded. “You’re a bigshot. You’re leading the official investigation. Knock you off, it throws a monkey wrench into the effort to find them.”

  McGill said, “They might even go after Elspeth when she’s off duty. Necessitate a change in my Secret Service protection. Even bringing Deke back, there’d be a little hiccup.”

  “What about L
eo?” Sweetie asked. “Any driver who replaces him would be second best. Might give them an opportunity to attack from another car.”

  DeWitt liked that idea. “Yeah, could be. That car in the NRO photos, the one that picked up Anderson, it looked like a BMW to me. Some of them are damn fast beasts. Not as fast as your Chevy maybe, but if you have a new driver and the bad guys have recruited a hotshot …”

  Everybody thought about the various possibilities.

  DeWitt said, “We don’t know how much Todd’s guys know about us, but we have to consider each of us as vulnerable.”

  McGill nodded. “Yeah, but any of the scenarios we just raised assumes we’re just going to sit tight and wait for Todd’s side to make the first move.”

  “The FBI is doing all we can to find them,” DeWitt said.

  McGill said, “No criticism was implied, Mr. Deputy Director. I was only thinking of making the bad guys leap before they look.”

  Sweetie knew intuitively where McGill was going and smiled. “You want to reach way back into our bag of tricks, don’t you?”

  “If you don’t mind, Margaret.”

  “I’m not as young as I used to be,” Sweetie said.

  “You’ve still got it, no question.”

  “Someone want to let me in on the gag?” DeWitt asked.

  McGill told him, “Margaret is stylish when she wants to be, but ordinarily she’s not —”

  “Obvious about things,” Sweetie said. “Never saw any reason to be a tease.”

  “Unless there are some lawbreaking creeps to sucker,” McGill said. “Get them thinking with something besides their heads.”

  Strictly for law enforcement purposes, DeWitt looked at Sweetie. Up and down. In a frank manner. He said, “I agree. She’s still got it.”

  Sweetie laughed and said, “Men.”

  The foibles of the male gender taken into account, they worked out a plan.