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‘I can’t believe the
Post
would even print this crap,’ Steve Wade said, half shouting. ‘Don’t they have any standards over there any more?’

‘I called Harold and chewed him out,’ Martha said. ‘He wouldn’t tell me where they got the story, of course, but he did insist it was legitimate.’

‘Legitimate, my ass,’ Julia Wade said. ‘It’s obvious where they got the story. This bimbo is out to sell her story for whatever money she can screw out of the vultures, just like the rest of them.’

Martha took a deep breath before replying.

‘That may prove to be true, Ma’am, but in all honesty, it’s not looking that way right now.’

‘What the hell do you mean?’ the First Lady asked furiously.

‘Well, in the first place, Harold did specifically tell me she wasn’t the source.’

‘And you swallowed that?’

‘Yes, Ma’am, actually I did. Harold has as good an eye for a story as any newspaper man, but he’s a straight shooter. He will protect his source, but he wouldn’t tell me a deliberate lie. He could have just kept quiet.’

‘And in the second place?’ the President asked.

‘In the second place, if she were a gold-digger we would have heard from her by now. She would have a lawyer, and they would be taking the lead, scheduling a press conference of their own. They wouldn’t wait for the press to come to them. They certainly wouldn’t lie low and let the
Post
put its own spin on the story. Not unless she’s being very badly advised.’

‘So, I’m being set up? The opposition is doing this?’

‘That would be my guess, Sir.’

‘God damn it.’

Martha hesitated and swallowed hard.

‘Mr. President, if you don’t feel inclined to just ride out the storm, there are some things we can do.’

‘Let me hear it.’

‘Well, Sir, we could do some digging of our own.’

‘What kind of digging?’ the First Lady asked sharply.

‘We could have the Bureau run a check on her. Also the Secret Service. We could find out whether she’s ever been to the White House.’

‘Why the hell should she have been in the White House?’ Julia asked, looking at her husband.

‘Ma’am, thousands of people come to the White House in any given year, for functions and so on. It might help to know who she associates with. Maybe we can prove that she has connections with the opposition.’

Steve Wade turned his back on them, and finished his coffee.

‘If you think it may get us somewhere, have someone take a look. Very discreetly, and for my eyes only.’

‘I’ll get right on it, Mr. President.’

‘I’m still coming to the press conference.’

‘Mr. President…’

‘No, Martha, my mind is made up.’

Martha headed for the door.

‘I’ll alert them… if you’re quite sure that’s what you’ve decided?’

‘He didn’t decide,’ Julia Wade said. ‘I did.’

* * *

The President was just entering the White House press room when Ted Lazenby’s call came in to his private secretary, Steffie Walinsky. After agonizing over it for some time, the Director had decided that he should tell Steve Wade what was going on, even though it had to be unofficially until the facts were confirmed. It was an uncomfortable decision. Whatever he did, the situation would do nothing to improve his relationship with the President. But Lazenby concluded that it was the best of the several unattractive options open to him. As soon as he made the decision, he called Steffie to arrange a meeting. He was a couple of minutes too late.

‘This is important,’ he said. ‘Can’t you interrupt him?’

‘I’m afraid not, Director, not during a press conference. Not unless the United States is under attack. Standing orders from Miss Graylor. It could give the impression that there’s some panic going on.’

Lazenby fought back an urge to tell her there was.

‘I’ll have him call you right back. We don’t expect it to last very long. He’s just making a cameo today. Miss Graylor’s handling most of it.’

Lazenby went hot and cold in turn.

‘A cameo? Why?’

‘I’m not sure, Director. Will you be in your office?’

‘Don’t bother, Steffie. I’ll call the President myself later.’

‘All right, Director.’

Lazenby replaced the receiver.

‘Oh, fuck,’ he said out loud.

* * *

Steve Wade’s arrival caused something of a stir in the press room. Martha had told the journalists only that the President would make a short statement and would take a few questions, and she had abruptly fended off further inquiries. No, she could not speculate about it, and no, there were no advance copies, there was no prepared text. The room was abuzz although, as Martha well knew, it was not because there was any doubt as to what the President intended to speak about. The applause as he took the podium was more restrained than usual. There were even a few cynical chuckles. Martha was relieved to see that Wade appeared quite composed. His manner betrayed no hint of unease.

‘Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he began without undue haste. ‘I have only one thing to say this morning. And I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you to learn that it has to do with the story which appeared this morning in
The Washington Post
.’

The male reporter who was sitting next to Mary Sullivan grinned at her and shook his head.

‘Bad girl,’ he scolded.

Mary gave him a kick on his shin, but could not stop herself returning the grin.

‘I must admit,’ the President continued, ‘that when the subject was raised yesterday, I was rather taken aback. I may not have made myself as clear as I would wish. So I hope you will forgive me if I take a few moments of your time to do so today. For the record, I want to make it as clear as I possibly can that I know no one by the name of Lucia Benoni, I have had no relationship with any such person, and I find it disturbing that a newspaper as respected as
The Washington Post
would print a story like this without giving us a chance to comment on it. One might wonder, if there were any truth to the story at all, why this Miss Benoni has not come forward herself. I hope I have made myself clear, and I hope and expect that you will all consider this matter closed, and go back to reporting what really matters, which is the work the American people elected me to do.’

The President stopped. There was a brief silence while the reporters finished making notes, and made sure that he was not going to continue. All eyes turned to Mary Sullivan, but she remained silent, appearing to concentrate on her notes. The White House correspondent for CBS News picked up the ball.

‘Mr. President, I wonder if you can comment on a report that was making the rounds this morning that Miss Benoni was an official guest at a White House function some time ago?’

‘No, I can’t, Bill. Several thousand people visit the White House every year for functions, yourself included, and I’m afraid I don’t remember them all.’

‘Following up, Mr. President, my network was told that Miss Benoni was the escort of a German diplomat at a function some months ago.’

‘If that’s the case, then that’s the case,’ Steve Wade replied testily. ‘I don’t personally supervise everything that goes on at the White House. And I repeat, I have no recollection of ever meeting this woman. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’

A female reporter for
Elle
stood up.

‘Mr. President, have you talked with the First Lady about this story? How does she feel about it?’

Steve Wade was already halfway to the door.

‘How do you think she feels about it?’ he replied angrily. ‘She wishes you people would leave us alone. And so do I.’

Martha Graylor was seething as she made her way to the podium to resume what should have been a routine press conference. As soon as she was in place, almost every hand in the room was raised, and a chorus of voices erupted. She cut the first questioner off at the knees.

‘Don’t even go there,’ she said. ‘I have nothing to add to what the President has just said. And now, we’re going to talk about the situation in the Middle East.’

* * *

As she left the President at the Oval Office, Linda Samuels was fighting off a desire to throw up. Listening to his lies disgusted her. She had even had the uncomfortable feeling that some of the reporters were looking at her, as if they thought she might have something to tell them. Surely that was just her imagination? She walked slowly back to the Presidential Detail office, poured herself a cup of coffee, flopped into a chair, and closed her eyes. Gary Mills opened the door.

‘Oh, there you are, Linda. There was a call for you. Sounded urgent.’

He handed Linda a note.

‘Thanks, Gary.’

‘The Boss has quite a way with the press, doesn’t he?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Gary grinned maliciously and left the office.

Linda recognized the number instantly. It was Kelly Smith’s direct line at the Hoover Building. She dialed it absent-mindedly.

‘Kelly?’

‘Oh. Hi Linda, thanks for calling back so quickly.’

‘Sure. What’s up?’

There was a pause.

‘Linda, I need you to take a look at a piece of evidence for me, and see if you can identify it.’

‘Evidence? What kind of evidence?’

‘I can’t go into it over the phone.’

‘What makes you think I can help?’

‘I’m sorry, Linda. I wish I could tell you more.’

‘This is on one of your cases?’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t know I had any information on an FBI case.’

‘You may not. But I need you to try.’

‘OK,’ Linda said slowly. ‘Can’t you at least give me a clue?’

‘No. I’m sorry, Linda. It’s something I have to keep the lid on for now. Also, I’m afraid it won’t wait. When can you get away?’

‘Today?’ Linda asked in astonishment.

‘Today or this evening.’

‘I guess I could leave about six. Will that do?’

‘I’ll pick you up at your place at seven. Thanks, Linda.’

Kelly hung up.

‘You’re welcome, I’m sure,’ Linda said into the dial tone. Her queasiness was getting worse, and she gulped the hot coffee, hoping it might somehow calm her down and make her feel better.

Then, just when she had concluded that her day could not get any worse, Bob called.

‘H
E
ACTUALLY
HAD
the nerve to tell me I should wish him and his new bimbo well, let bygones be bygones. Jesus, where do men get that kind of crap? I mean, we’re not even divorced yet, for Christ’s sake.’

Linda was sprawling dejectedly in the passenger seat of Kelly’s car, as they made their way through the tail end of the evening rush hour to the Headquarters of the Washington D.C. Police Department. Kelly had made an appointment with Lieutenant Jeff Morris and, feeling pretty sure that the situation was about to take a turn for the worse, she was in no mood for casual conversation. Linda had done most of the talking during the drive.

‘It’s almost as though we were never married at all,’ she continued. ‘Four years of my life just erased. He takes a fancy to some new woman and turns me off like a faucet. Why is this happening to me, Kelly? Am I a bad person? Do I have that kind of effect on people?’

Kelly made an effort.

‘No, of course not. He’s just behaving like your typical asshole. I thought he was talking about getting back together?’

‘He was. He’ll call and say ‘let’s talk’, we’ll have a drink, and I could swear he’s ready to move back in. Then he’ll call again, say he’s not sure, could we think about it for a while. Then it’s all off again. He’s driving me nuts, Kelly. Every time he calls, I believe him. Even today, I thought it was just possible that he might… oh, what the hell.’

‘It doesn’t sound like he’s too attached to the bimbo,’ Kelly offered. ‘Maybe he’s not sure what he wants. If it’s any comfort, I bet he will probably dump her before long.’

‘I don’t care. Oh God, yes I do. That’s the trouble.’

Kelly reached out, took her friend’s hand and squeezed hard.

‘You deserve better. Just hang in there, Linda. The right guy is out there just waiting for you to find him.’

‘He may have some time to wait. Bob may be able to change partners just like that, but I can’t. I’m not available.’

‘Well, if I were you,’ Kelly said, ‘I would work on becoming available.’

‘I’ll get started on it right now,’ Linda replied.

They exchanged smiles. Linda turned to look out of the side window of the car, contemplating the people they passed in the street, and suddenly the thought of Bob passed, and she regained her bearings.

‘This isn’t the way to your office. We crossed Pennsylvania Avenue a couple of blocks back.’

‘We’re not going to my office,’ Kelly said.

‘Great. I knew the evidence thing was just a practical joke. You’re taking me out for a wonderful dinner in some fancy restaurant to meet a rich, handsome doctor.’

Kelly laughed. ‘I wish,’ she said.

‘So where are we going?’

‘We’re here,’ Kelly announced, pulling up at a parking meter.

‘This is the D.C. Police building.’

‘Yes. This is where the evidence is.’

They climbed out of the car. Mechanically, her mind elsewhere, Kelly fed the meter, even though at that hour parking in the street was free.

‘I thought you said it was one of your cases,’ Linda said in the elevator.

‘It is, in a manner of speaking. It’s under the jurisdiction of the D.C. Police, but they’ve asked the Bureau to help out.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ll see.’

They left the elevator on the third floor, where Jeff Morris had instructed them to meet him. He was waiting, and seemed tired and preoccupied. As she made the introductions, Kelly speculated that Chief Bryson was probably giving him little time to rest. This was a case nobody relished. Headaches all round. Morris led them to a small conference room.

‘If you’ll wait here,’ he said, ‘I’ll go to the evidence room and get the exhibit. Help yourselves to coffee. Oh, and Kelly, if you have a moment afterwards, I did get some information about Middle and Near East Holdings, Incorporated.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Kelly said.