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Rhyme asked, “So your opinion—yourexpertopinion—is that these crimes have nothing to do with real estate?”
“Well, this guy isyourmillion-dollar killer, not mine, but on what you’ve given me, that’s correct. He has something else in mind entirely.”
49.
“MR. PRESIDENT.”
“Edward.”
Senator Talese stepped into the parlor. The exterior and lobby of the hotel may have been bland, but these rooms were decidedly posh.
But, then again, itwasthe Presidential Suite.
The commander in chief rose from a couch that was surrounded by a sea of paperwork and strode forward over the off-white sponge of carpet to grip the man’s hand. President William Boyd was a tall, angular man whose mixed-race heritage showed in the soft tone of his skin. He was known for his ready smile, which he flashed now.
Talese was senior in the opposing party and he wondered what Boyd would think if he knew that he’d just spent the last two hours strategizing about removing him from office come the election in November. Then decided the man wouldn’t care. It was all part of the game. And in fact he and Boyd had worked togetherfrequently, beating down partisanship when they could and getting compromise legislation hammered out.
“Senator.” The tall, regal First Lady stood in the doorway.
“Mrs. Boyd.”
“How’re Emily and the girls? The grandchildren?”
“All well, thank you.” Talese noted the First Daughter, ten years old, was also in good form, fervently tapping her iPad screen.
“I’ll leave you to it.” The woman closed the double doors behind her.
The men sat. Boyd said, “Sometimes, this business, don’t you feel like a magician? Sleight of hand, misdirection. Do you know any card tricks, Edward?”
“I do, sir. I play hearts with my grandkids and I watch my loose change vanish. So the hedge fund manager I was supposed to meet—it was a disappearing act.”
“I’d hardly dig up a rich man to fund my opponent’s war chest, would I? Caught you off guard.”
“Yessir.”
The man stretched. Despite his apparently robust health, he looked tired. But then Talese had worked with three presidents and they were perpetually tired. The job simply tuckers you out.
“The polls … It’s going to be a coin toss in November.”
“Close. Yes.”
“Good CEOs don’t last—business or government. And I don’t mean good as in talented and efficient. I mean as in doing good.” Boyd rose and poured himself coffee. He lifted an eyebrow. Talese shook his head. “You ever see the movieFail Safe, Edward?”
“Long time ago. Our bombers get a message by mistake to nuke Moscow. Are we worried about war?”
“No, no. I’m thinking of that scene where the president asks the American ambassador in Russia to sacrifice himself, so they’ll know that Moscow’s been destroyed.”
“He stays on the phone until it’s destroyed in the blast. The Russian ambassador in New York does the same.”
They traded the two cities to avoid all-out war. Like swapping queens at chess.
A chilling flick.
Talese continued, “Melted ambassadors. This is not a very auspicious conversation, Mr. President.”
“My infrastructure bill, Edward …”
“Ah.” And Talese saw what was coming and was suddenly aware of the concept of seeing his life pass before his eyes. In this case, his political life. “Only just a bit more popular than nuclear holocaust, I’ll give you that.”
