22

NEW YORK CITY

Sarah sat scowling in her desk chair at the DOJ. The Washington Post’s lead story revealed Jason Carson as the good guy who blew the lid off the Polar Bear bombing—risking all by telling his story. A quote from him proclaimed:

I have done things I’m not proud of, things I wish I could change in my desire to assist Eric Sandstrom and American Frontier with their mission to provide bountiful, economic fuel for our nation. But none of my actions were illegal. However, I became convinced now was the time to tell about the events behind the scenes. My conscience won’t allow me to do anything less.

Conscience? He has a conscience? Sarah dropped the newspaper on her desk in disgust.

As far as what had really happened, no details were revealed that could be supported or rebutted. Just a bunch of general information to raise the noise level.

Furious at not being notified by the White House of these events, Sarah again phoned Chalmers’s staff there. Again she was stonewalled with a song and dance: “I’m sorry. As you can imagine, Mr. Chalmers is rather busy at the moment but will return your call as soon as he is able.”

She slammed down her office phone and called Darcy. “I smell rotten fish.”

Darcy took over. “A whole barrel full of them. DHS wasn’t informed either.”

The next several hours flew by as Sarah pieced together details with the DOJ investigators and made multiple calls to the White House.

At 3:00 she was summoned to her boss’s office. John Barnhill, Criminal Division chief of the Department of Justice, was a political appointee in a Republican administration. At first he wasn’t keen on a blue-blood trust-fund baby working for him, but he’d grown to trust Sarah and her instincts. In fact, Sarah had served as a very useful shield for him on key cases like American Frontier. It looked good to have a member of one of the country’s wealthiest families working for him and the president, especially when her family was known for supporting the opposing party in power.

Barnhill was ambitious. The current attorney general had announced months earlier that he was leaving. Sarah knew, from Drew and Jon alike, that her boss was angling for the job. It made sense, actually. Barnhill had done everything that was asked of him. While jobs like AG usually went to those who were closest to the occupant of the Oval Office, they sometimes went to deserving and talented political appointees like Barnhill. But not always. Sarah knew that as well as anyone.

She assumed that her boss had news about the White House and that he’d give her a difficult time for her relentless badgering. This time, though, when Barnhill was silent, studying her, she had a feeling she was in deep trouble. So I’m going to be keelhauled for annoying the White House. She steeled herself for the onslaught that usually followed silence from John Barnhill.

“I just got a call from President Rich,” he announced. He looked at some papers on his desk, then up at Sarah. There was a glint of anger in his eyes, and perhaps a bit of resentment. “He wants to vet you as a possible candidate for attorney general. When he puts it that way, who am I to say no?”

Sarah opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. She honestly had no idea what to say. This was totally out of left field. “I’m not qualified.”

“Yes, you are,” Barnhill replied. “As much as anyone is qualified for jobs like this. AGs are political appointments. They serve at the pleasure of the president.”

“But you . . .”

“It doesn’t matter what I might or might not want. Appointments like this often serve very specific political interests.”

“And what possible interest could I serve?” Sarah was genuinely perplexed.

“I think you know,” her boss said softly.

“I don’t,” Sarah answered honestly. “I mean, it’s true that our family has the resources to support a Democrat to oppose President Rich in the next election. But that’s no reason—”

“There are always reasons. And right now, the issue with American Frontier, campaign contributions, culpability—it all presents a big problem for the president.”

“And my appointment as attorney general helps that?” Sarah mused out loud. But she and Barnhill both knew the answer. Of course it helped. The appointment would effectively keep Sarah from pursuing things to higher levels.

“Yes, it does.” Her boss smiled wanly. “If it works, and you’re confirmed, then at least I can say that I’ll have a boss I genuinely respect.”

Sarah blushed. “Thank you.” She rose from her chair. “So that’s all?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

Sarah nodded and left Barnhill’s office. She was still reeling as she walked back to her office. Attorney general? Now? In the midst of the AF case? In a daze, she headed back to her desk and dialed Darcy.

“Two times in one day?” Darcy quipped.

But when Sarah told her the news, her friend exclaimed, “Good for you! But . . .” Darcy’s voice lowered. “You know I have to ask this. Why the AG job? Why now?”

Sarah almost laughed. Her friend knew her so well.

“Maybe you did more than ruffle a few feathers by pestering the White House,” Darcy said.

“What do you mean?”

“Ever think somebody is anxious to take you out of the picture? What better way than to put you in a place where you have to report directly to those you’re trying to investigate, and to distract you from your bombing investigation and who that somebody might be?”

The possibility and weight of that knowledge settled in. Was the president of the United States trying to buy her off?

Just how deep and high was that barrel of rotten fish?

So Carson is now a good guy in the eyes of the world. Will exhaled in frustration. Drew was right, as always.

Then he remembered what his father always said: “Those who are honest and stay honest will win in the long run, son. Those who aren’t will be revealed for who they are someday.”

Still, Will was aggravated. He wanted that someday—when Carson and Sandstrom would both be revealed for who they were—to come soon enough that he could enjoy seeing it.

And he hoped his family wouldn’t be hurt in that revelation.