The Library at Mount Char Part 22

"OK, that's about enough of-" Hamann began.

The president held up his hand. "How do you mean, Agent Leffington?"

Hamann's face was really red now. Yup, Erwin thought. a.s.shole. "Call me Erwin," he said to the president. "Yeah, what I mean is, why do you give a f.u.c.k? I mean, it was all horrific and s.h.i.t, but ain't it a little below your pay grade?" He meant this sincerely. A thirty-person ma.s.sacre ain't so much, as presidents go.

The president and Hamann exchanged a glance. The president gave a small nod. "Mr. Leffington-" Hamann began.

"It's Erwin," Erwin said.

Hamann's face got redder still. Erwin gave no f.u.c.ks.

"Erwin, then," Hamann said, smiling through gritted teeth, "do you have a security clearance?"

"Sure," Erwin said. He had one from the Homeland Security gig. He told them the level. It wasn't especially high.

Hamann looked smug for a moment, but when he glanced at the president his face fell.

"Tell him anyway," the president said.

"Sir, I don't think-"

The president gave him a look.

"Right," Hamann said. "Ah, yesterday, this office received a call from a member of the terrorist organization. A woman."

"Carolyn? She called here?"

They all looked at him again. "That's correct," Hamann said.

"Nooooooo s.h.i.t," Erwin said softly. "Huh. What'd she want to talk about?"

"Steve Hodgson was the reason she called," the president said.

"I ain't followin'."

"She wanted me to arrange a pardon for him," the president said.

"Oh?" Erwin said, very interested now. "You talked to her? Yourself? Personal-like?"

"She had the access codes," Hamann said. He and the president exchanged another glance.

Erwin waited, but neither of them said anything more. He's holding something back, Erwin thought. Access codes will only get you so far. What did she say? What did she say to make that a.s.shole put the president on the phone? He suddenly thought of the tellers at the bank robbery, of Amrita Krishnamurti, that spotless employee of twelve years, tossing away dye packs, marked bills, her career. But someone was speaking to him. The question was a good one, though. He tucked it away for later examination. "Sorry," Erwin said. "Say again?"

The president didn't seem too put out about Erwin zoning out. Erwin provisionally decided that he liked the guy. "I said," the president said again, "what made you take an interest in her in the first place?"

"She did a bank robbery three, four weeks back, her and some other lady. Left prints all over the place, at the bank. Everywhere, like. Then, just one single print at the house where they found this Hodgson guy."

"Just the one print?" the president asked. He sounded like he understood why this was weird, which surprised Erwin again.

Oh. Right. He was a prosecutor. "Yeah. Just the one. Weird, huh? Usually you either get lots of 'em, or none at all, if they wear gloves. But this time, just one. It was perfect, too. They found it on the plate over the light switch in the dining room, like she rolled it out on a pad."

"So she wanted us to find it," the president said. "Why?"

"Don't know," Erwin allowed. "Good question, though. Wanted us to connect her with this Hodgson guy, maybe?"

"We keep coming back to him. Who is he?"

"n.o.body in particular, so far as I can tell. He's a plumber."

The secretary of state, regal, studied him over the top of her gla.s.ses. "A plumber?"

"Yeah," Erwin said. He spat in the president's trash can. "You know-them guys who make the toilets work? He seemed pretty normal, though," he said meditatively. "Not like them bank-robber ladies or the tutu guy."

"Did anything strike you about him?" the president asked.

Erwin considered the question. "I didn't have a whole lot of time with him. But I don't think he had any more idea what was going on than I do. He seemed all guilty about something, though. I couldn't figure out what. He got busted selling a little weed when he was a kid, did two years when he wouldn't roll over on his supplier. No arrests after that, but he got mentioned in a lot of other guys' files."

"And now?"

"These days he's clean, best I can tell. Other than the dead cop, I mean. And he denies that."

"Do you believe him?" the president asked.

"Yeah," Erwin said. "I do. I think she set him up."

"Why?"

"Leverage, I 'spect. What'd you say when she asked about the pardon?" The president didn't answer. His eyes were like ice. He said yes, then. "Never mind. None-a my f.u.c.king business. Sorry."

"You might be right," the president said. "Leverage. Hmmm. What would she want from him?"

"Dunno. Seems like a lotta trouble to get him to fix a faucet. Does it matter?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you got Thorpe over there. He ain't much of a negotiator. You gonna kill 'em?"

Everyone was very quiet. Then, after a moment, Hamann spoke. "Thank you, Erwin. That will be all."

Erwin waited a second, but this time the president didn't override him. "Yeah. Sure." He spat again. "I wouldn't."

Now both Hamann and the secretary of state were glaring at him.

"Why not?" the president said.

"I think it's what they want," Erwin said. "What she wants. Whoever she is, she's not dumb. She had to know you'd trace the call, right? And she had to know it would p.i.s.s you off, getting your cage rattled."

"She didn't rattle-" Hamann began.

"Yeah. Whatever. So, way I see it, you can either go skip-skip-skippin' down this merry trail she's blazed for you, or you can lay back in the tall gra.s.s for a while, see if maybe you can figure out what the f.u.c.k is going on."

The president eyeballed him for a long moment. "Duly noted," he said. "I'll think it over."

"You do that. You done with me?"

"Yes."

Everyone looked relieved.

"Erwin, can you wait for me in the lobby?" Thorpe said. "I'd like a chance to debrief you on a couple other details."

"Yeah," Erwin said. He sighed inside, thinking of the fall leaves. "Sure." He walked out the funky curved door, pausing just a moment to run his fingers across the perfect wainscoting.

III.

They conspired for another hour or so. Erwin, irritated, amused himself by annoying the secretary. Eventually the door opened. The herd of a.s.sholes spilled out, most of them glaring at Erwin as they left.

Thorpe was one of the last ones to leave. He walked up to Erwin, eyes wide. "You know," he said, "they talk about you, in the Unit. Yos.h.i.taka and the others. I'd heard some of the stories. But before today, I never really believed-"

"Hey," the president called through the open door. "Erwin? Got a second?"

Erwin and Thorpe exchanged a look. "He can't kill me," Erwin said with a shrug. "I got the Distinguished Service Cross."

"Two of them. And the Medal of Honor."

"Yeah, well, that one got all blown out of proportion." Erwin went back into the Oval Office. "Yes, sir?"

"I wanted to thank you for your help today," the president said, "and your service to your country, of course." He paused. "It's been very memorable, meeting you."

"Yeah. Nice meetin' you, too." He waved a hand dismissively. "Happy to help and s.h.i.t." Erwin paused. "Say, you mind if I ask you something?"

The president gave the question serious consideration before he answered. "Go ahead. I may take the fifth, though."

Erwin didn't smile. "I didn't vote for you." He waited for a reaction. There wasn't one. "Reason was, all the time you talked on TV, you always sounded like a dumba.s.s. It was really convincing."

"Erwin, we should probably-" Thorpe said, from out in the lobby.

"Years of practice," the president said. "What's your question?"

"I was just wondering why you did that. Pretend to be a dips.h.i.t, I mean."

The president grinned. "Prolly the same f.u.c.kin' reason you do."

They looked at each other for a second, then both of them laughed, long and loud.

"Yeah," Erwin said. "OK. I'm convinced. Good luck in November!"

"Thanks," the president said. "I won't need it."

They both laughed again. Erwin stepped back out into the b.i.t.c.hy secretary's lobby.

"Hey! Erwin?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"We do a card game, every other Tuesday. If you're in town, I'd love to have you sit in."

Erwin considered this. "No ya wouldn't. I'll clean yer f.u.c.kin' clock."

"I can print money," the president said, grinning again.

"Hmm. Yeah. Good point. OK, I'm in. What time?"

"Around six, usually."

"See you."

"Phyllis?" The president's secretary looked up. "Add Erwin to the Tuesday list. If I'm tied up, have Harold take him over to the residence."

She glowered, then jotted a note down on a legal pad. "Yes, sir."

Thorpe was looking at Erwin with something like awe. "Be looking forward to it," Erwin said.

He kinda was, too.

INTERLUDE III.

JACK.

Steve had been about twelve when he was orphaned. Even now, he remembered life with his birth parents fairly well. But the car accident that killed them and put him in a coma was a blank, his memory completely gone after breakfast cornflakes three days prior. They told him this was common with violent brain injury. He remembered waking up in a hospital room. It was night, and he had been alone, though his aunt Mary showed up an hour or so later, all tears and hugs. His parents were dead. Steve himself had been in a coma.

He'd gotten a bad concussion. That led to swelling of the brain, hence the coma. If there was permanent damage, no one could find it. Other than his long nap-a little over six weeks-and some minor burns, he was unhurt, remarkably so considering the ferocity of the crash. Years later, in his senior year of high school, Steve tracked down a newspaper photo of the wreckage. A tractor trailer had run a stop sign on a back road, speeding. It smacked into the front end of his mom's Cadillac, essentially flattening the front half. This made jelly of his parents and catapulted Steve into a new life, quite different from the one he was used to.