18

JACK MIGHT NOT HAVE PURSUED a career in politics, but Kate realized immediately he had the necessary skill set to survive, if not thrive, in the profession had he chosen to work in that arena.

Emily wasted no time sitting him down and telling him exactly what problems his father had caused by failing to disclose that he held a large stock option in Pembrooke. When she mentioned how the company was in the prime position to make a sizable amount of money when Operation: Energy Independence was put into action, he sat up straight.

Once she was finished, he leaned forward and asked quietly, “What are you going to do?”

Emily shrugged. “What can we do? Kate and I agree that we have to tell the American public what we learned.”

He remained quiet as if pondering her words; then he shook his head. “No one would ever believe you.”

Kate wasn’t sure if Emily’s reaction of shock was real or not.

“What?”

“C’mon, Emily. No one would ever believe you didn’t have a hand —both hands —in this. Our families go back too far for anyone to believe Dad could even sneeze without you knowing about it.” He sat back on the couch and draped his arm across its cushions. “They’ll simply believe that you’re trying to minimize your role in what could amount to a huge scandal. One that could result in removal from office.”

He made a theatrical effort of glancing at his watch. “Congratulations. I think you’ll be setting a record. Your administration lasted almost six weeks before the first talks of impeachment.”

Emily glanced at Kate as if to say, Sorry, but it looks like we have to scrap our plans. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

His smile wasn’t a particularly pleasant one. “I can think of one or two options.”

“Such as?”

“First, I’d just as soon not see my father’s name smeared posthumously.”

Emily’s gaze sharpened as if she had suddenly made a leap in logic. She dropped down to the couch next to him. “So, do I assume you are his heir? you get everything?”

His expression grew less predatory. “I get most of it. He had a few charitable requests, but I get everything else. To my utter surprise, may I add.”

“You shouldn’t be all that surprised. You two might have had some bad blood, but it was family blood nonetheless.”

He looked as if he was contemplating her words. “True. But I’m willing to show there’s a difference between father and son, especially when it comes to the concept of greed. And I think that might help you.”

Emily managed to infuse several meanings into a single word. “Explain.”

“Sure. What you have to first understand is that I didn’t expect to inherit anything, so I’m ahead of the game. I don’t have to be so greedy that I take everything. Is there a way we can retroactively redirect his stock option —maybe make it appear the future money was earmarked for some higher purpose?”

Kate took an involuntary step forward, ready to insert an “Absolutely not,” until she saw how Emily’s grin lit her face, softening her sharp features.

“Exactly! That’s why I’ve always loved you. You think just as fast on your feet as your old man, but you’re actually nowhere as corrupt as that old shark.”

Kate couldn’t remain quiet any longer. “You’re willing to give up what amounts to a substantial inheritance, just to preserve your father’s name?”

Emily tried to interrupt her. “Kate —”

“No. Jack needs to know exactly how much money we’re talking about.” She turned to the man sitting on the couch. “Your father said he was expecting a $15 million return in the first year alone.” She expected Jack to be either amazed or disgusted by the amount, but what she didn’t expect was the reaction she did elicit from him.

“So?”

Jack turned toward Kate. “Let me repeat. I’m not a greedy man. I guess you don’t hear this often in Washington, but let me say this again. I don’t need the money. I’m doing quite well on my own.” A thoughtful look dropped over his face. “I’d much rather see the control of the stock option go somewhere worthy to offset his avarice. It seems almost . . . tainted to me.”

Kate realized this was a prime example of someone doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons.

Emily ignored his more altruistic reasoning and concentrated on the execution of their solution. “Since he appears to have hidden his ownership through the use of several offshore holding companies, it might be simply a matter of making some retroactive changes to the last company in the chain —once we figure out who holds what. The real difficulty will be unraveling all this quietly.”

Kate watched numbly, not quite believing what she was hearing.

Jack stroked his chin in obvious contemplation. “I’m thinking that maybe it ought to go to some charity.”

Emily nodded eagerly. “That way, if anyone gets nosy and starts to follow the trail, it’ll show that Dozier was involved, but only as a conduit to the final destination, some tree-hugger, green charity that’ll make even the most hardened journalist go ‘Aww. . . .’”

Jack continued to stroke his chin. “That’d work. But . . . it has to be a charity I don’t currently work with and something Dad might have chosen. After the fact, I can come onto the board as a sort of legacy to my father’s posthumous involvement.”

Emily leaned over and bussed him on the cheek. “I knew you’d find a solution. I have always been able to rely on you.”

He adopted his first genuinely warm smile, betraying a current sense of closeness with Emily rather than a nostalgic one. “Are you going to make this happen, or am I?”

Kate had remained quiet to this point but knew she had to insert herself into the conversation. “I want to go on the record to state that I’m against this idea. I think it would be far better to put your cards on the table and simply explain to the world that Dozier kept this vital piece of information a secret, even from us. After all, it’s the truth. All this under-the-table paperwork could backfire on you if someone catches on.”

Emily stood, taking advantage of her position to tower over Kate, who had remained seated. “Trust me. They won’t catch on.”

“You can’t be sure.”

Emily glanced at Jack. “Yeah. I can be sure. The man’s a miracle maker.”

section divider

Kate waited until she got back into her office before she allowed her sense of concern to turn into open panic. Discounting the eventual funding of some yet unnamed charity, what Emily was doing was still wrong on all levels. As much as Kate understood the need to protect self, lying to the American public —even with good intentions —was rife with problems, not to mention a dozen or so large pits filled with alligators.

Her head throbbed as her imagination began to work overtime to spell out exactly what sort of mess Dozier had put them in and how much messier it might get once Emily and Jack started their “renovation” plans.

“Lord, what do I do?” she prayed aloud, frightened by the amount of panic she heard in her own voice. “We didn’t know about Dozier. Given how many scandals have torn apart the White House in the past, I hate to admit Jack’s right —no one will believe we had no knowledge of this. But what Emily’s planning to do —to hide the truth —that’s not right, either. What should I do?”

The answer didn’t come in the guise of a burning bush, a clap of thunder, or any other overt symbolism. She simply looked up.

Hanging above her desk was a photograph of her and Emily on graduation day, both decked out in cap, gown, and colors. They’d been standing on the steps of the library, and in taking the snapshot, her father, their intrepid photographer, had also gotten the inscription over the library’s entrance.

Cognoscetis Veritatem et Veritas Liberabit Vos.

“You will know the truth and the truth will make you free.”

If Jack was going to make widespread changes to organizational records through whatever manner —bribery, break-in, or such —what Kate needed was a pristine copy of those records before they were altered. She needed a snapshot of the real world before Emily’s revisionist handiwork gave it a makeover.

She picked up the phone to call District Discreet, then hung up after the first ring. Call it paranoia, call it being overly cautious, but since she’d already made her objections known, Emily might predict what her next actions would be and easily guess what company Kate might use to ferret out the unfindable.

Kate needed to use a different route than her usual one, and that meant trusting somebody other than Lee and Sierra to dig up the truth.

But who? The more people who knew the truth, the less security they had.

Who did Kate trust enough to reveal this less-than-flattering side of Dozier Marsh, revelations of Maia the blackmailer, and Emily’s efforts to sanitize the past?

One person.

Nick.

She used her cell phone to call him, and it rang four times before he picked up.

“Beaudry.”

“It’s me. Kate. I saw you at the funeral,” she said, realizing only after she spoke that she sounded slightly accusatory.

“Yeah, I felt like I needed to go.”

“It was a nice gesture. But I’m not sure why.”

“I guess I got to know Dozier pretty well when M and I were together.”

“As I recall, you never really liked him.” She was beating around the non–burning bush, but she needed time to formulate her plans, then find her courage to implement them.

“I didn’t like Dozier butting into my marriage, but I guess he felt like he was protecting her like a father protects his daughter. I didn’t . . . dislike the man. For an old-time politician used to twisting the truth when it was convenient for him, once we made peace, he was always pretty straight with me.”

Nick offered a rosier view of the past than she’d anticipated, but his description of Dozier twisting the truth was all too accurate.

“Can we talk?”

He cleared his throat. “Aren’t we doing that now?”

“I mean —” she searched for the right words —“privately.”

“Sure. When? Where?”

She’d already come up with the answer. “There’s a diplomatic reception here this evening for the new ambassador from Ecuador. I can put you on the guest list.”

“At this late date?”

“Hello? Chief of staff here.”

He paused as if contemplating the idea. “Can you get me a little face time with the ambassador? Nothing antagonistic or long. Strictly business.”

She bristled a bit. “Is it a conditional yes, then?”

He backpedaled quickly. “No, nothing like that. I was just wondering if I could kill two birds with one White House visit. I’m still willing to come whether you can get M to let me talk to him or not.”

There was a moment of silence, and then he spoke again, his words holding a hint of confusion mixed with mild regret. “I don’t play those kinds of games, Kate. I thought you knew that.”

“Well, I was hoping that was the case.” She splayed her hand across her forehead, her headache reminding her that she really needed to take some meds or risk it turning into a migraine. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day already, what with the funeral and everything.”

Emphasis on everything.

“I wasn’t trying to be accusatory.” She searched for the right phrase of apology and settled on a legal one: “Absit iniuria verbis.” Let injury by words be absent.

He made a choking noise, then laughed. “I know it’s been a hard day if you’re resorting to law school Latin.”

You don’t know the half of it, she thought.

“Rest assured, no offense taken.” His voice remained lighter. “I’ve had days like that too. When you’re the person at the top, you get used to the idea that without exception, everybody wants something. Or so I’ve been told. I’m still a very small cog in a great big lobbying machine.”

She heard a tapping sound at her door. “Hang on,” she said to him. She covered the mouthpiece and then called out, “Come in.”

An aide cracked open the door, realized she was on the phone, and made the universal expression for Oops! Sorry. I can wait until you’re off the phone.

She held the aide at bay with a raised forefinger and turned back to the phone, trying to sound light and carefree. “If it’s any consolation, sir, this job has its coglike attributes too. But apparently, this cog is being paged. I have to go. See you tonight?”

“Someone walked in?”

“Yes.”

“Got it. See you tonight.”

section divider

That evening, Kate knew the minute that Nick walked into the room simply by the look on Emily’s face. Others might not have recognized the very brief flash of irritation across her face, but Kate knew it all too well.

The commander in chief was not happy, and she wasted no time in complaining to Kate.

“What’s he doing here?” she said in a terse whisper.

Kate lied. “I don’t know. But I’ll get rid of him.”

“You do that,” Emily said while nodding and greeting the people in the reception line. “I’ve already given him as much slack as I can stomach.”

Kate caught Nick’s eye and gestured toward the door where he’d just entered. She followed him as he wheeled about and stepped into the hallway.

He crooked a smile only after he was out of Emily’s view. “Her Majesty is not pleased.”

“Of course not. Her Majesty will never be pleased. You know that.”

To her surprise, Nick chided her. “Hey, give her a break. She went to a funeral today for a very close friend. She’s allowed to be in a bad mood.”

Kate hated to admit that not only was he right, but he was being much more solicitous than she was at the moment. “Point taken.” She looked around to make sure no one could overhear them. “By the way, I’m out here reading you the riot act for showing up.”

He looked confused. “But you invited me.”

“I did. But Emily doesn’t know that and never needs to know that.”

“Why?”

She grabbed his sleeve and tugged him, forcing him to follow her. “Because I have a very big problem, and you’re the only person I can trust.”

“Me? Wow. I mean, don’t you have all sorts of people who are supposed to do what you say? The FBI, CIA, NSA?”

“Not this time.” She continued walking. “Just look irritated as we talk so anyone passing us thinks I’m getting you out of Emily’s eyesight and giving you what for.”

He stumbled along with her, keeping up the act. “So, I guess this means I have no chance of getting a little face time with the ambassador tonight?”

She offered a plastic smile and nod of greeting to a couple coming their direction. After they passed, she whispered, “No, but I promise I’ll make it up to you another time.”

As they continued along the hallway, they passed by several more guests and a couple of aides. Kate knew the aides would be instrumental in providing the rumor mill with this particular bit of gristle —the chief of staff intercepting the president’s ex-husband and hustling him out of the White House. The gossipmongers and pundits would delight in the news.

Time to add a bit to the drama. “I don’t care how you got on the invitation list,” she said a bit louder than she normally would. “We both know this isn’t a good idea.”

Nick gave her a questioning look but played along nonetheless. “Don’t blame me. I got the invitation, I responded, and I came. How was I to know Emily knew nothing about it?”

She led him past the Map Room and had the key to the medical clinic already in her hand, so it took only a moment to unlock the door and guide him in.

“I’m not sick,” he joked once they were safely inside, the door locked behind them and the lights switched on.

She released the breath she’d been holding. “I am. Sick with worry.” At his reaction to the room, she shook her head. “It’s okay. No one will interrupt us here. I made sure of it.”

Kate had planned carefully, trying to find a location that was both close to the reception and would offer them complete privacy. Being the White House chief of staff meant she could get the keys to specific offices without too many questions, and the White House physician’s on-site clinic filled the bill nicely.

She’d arranged for the entire on call medical staff to be treated to a movie premiere in the White House theater as a personal thank-you for their speedy reaction to Dozier’s collapse. They’d still be only steps away from the president should any medical emergencies arise.

Nick settled himself on the couch. “Okay, Kate. Why all the skulduggery?”

Kate contemplated sitting on the arm of the couch but knew she wouldn’t be able to sit still. So instead, she began to pace the small office, spilling her guts and telling him everything that had transpired —Dozier’s deathbed confession, Jack Marsh’s involvement, and Emily’s plans.

As she explained, Nick’s posture shifted from a carefree “Tell me a story” pose until, as she finished, he was perched on the edge of the couch, elbows planted on his knees and his head cradled in his palms as if the details were making his head ache.

After she finished her recitation, he sighed noisily into his hands, then looked up at her. “You honestly think Dozier had something to do with the crash?”

Now that her nervous energy had been given an outlet and she’d been able to actually voice the story, fatigue set in, and she dropped somewhat ungracefully to the couch and sat next to him. “I’m not sure,” she said, stifling a sudden yawn. “All he said was that it was his fault and that he didn’t mean for her to die. But he was pretty straightforward about the blackmail part.”

“Oh, man . . .” He shook his head, then spoke again, his voice low. “So what can I do to help?”

An unexpected sense of relief coursed through her. She hadn’t been sure whether his sympathy for her plight might be overwhelmed by his glee in Emily’s predicament. “Emily has asked Jack to do the ‘dirty work’ so no one can say that the White House had a hand in it. All I want you to do is get to the files before he does.”

He glanced up again, this time shock etched in his features. “You mean you want me to steal them?”

Her stomach clinched at the thought. “Absolutely not! I don’t want you to do anything but get a copy of them before any changes are made.”

His gaze narrowed. “How is an archive copy going to help?”

“I’m not sure, but if any of this is made public and people learn that changes were made, then without a basis of comparison, they can make it out for much worse than it actually was.”

“So if anyone catches wind of this and starts to scream scandal, you can pull out a copy of the original and show that the changes weren’t as invasive as they could have been.”

“Exactly. And a copy dated . . . let’s say, tomorrow, would show that any changes were done posthumously, helping to substantiate that we didn’t know anything about it until after Dozier’s death.”

Nick remained quiet for almost a minute, and Kate wasn’t sure whether his silence meant he wasn’t going to help after all.

A split second before she reached her breaking point, he looked up. “Are you sure Emily didn’t know anything about this beforehand?”

“About Dozier’s finances?”

He nodded. “It sounds like something she would have cooked up with him on the sly. I was never privy to all of their secrets.”

She thought back to Emily’s genuine expression of shock. After the last year of the campaign, Kate had decided she’d become an expert at reading the truth —no matter how bitter or poignant —in Emily’s face.

“No,” she said, hoping she sounded as resolute as she felt. “The news took both of us by complete and total surprise.”

He wore his doubt as plainly as his displeasure. “I know it surprised you, but can you really be so sure about Emily? Neither you nor I had any inkling about the toll road debacle. She hid that from everyone with a straight face.”

Kate searched her memory and her heart for the answer. After two hard years working on the campaign, she felt as if her sense of naiveté had been chipped away to the point that she couldn’t help but view almost everything —Emily included —with a jaded eye. But this time, she knew the answer wasn’t built on her hope or faith in her friend, but in raw facts and experience.

“I’d stake my life on it.”

She watched his expression go from doubtful to resolute.

“Good enough for me. That settles it, then. I’m in.” Nick stood. “But one more question. Why me?”

Why him indeed? Kate had already asked herself that, and the answer was twofold. “Because I trusted you before with sensitive information about Emily, and you didn’t abuse that trust. Plus, you’re the last person Emily expects to get involved in this. She’s counting on me to follow my usual operating procedure. As far as that goes, she knows exactly which investigators I always trust when I’m facing covert issues. So I know she’s keeping an eye on them.”

Confusion filled his face. “I thought you said Emily thinks you’re completely on board with her plans.”

“She’s 98 percent sure I’m in agreement with her, but the 2 percent of doubt will make her wary. She’ll watch me and the people I trust like a hawk.”

He gave her a critical once-over that made her feel as if he could see right through her protective shell and view all of her discomfort, her fears, her worries, and her sense of guilt for essentially working against her president. “You’ve changed. You’re more . . . skeptical, less trusting than you used to be.”

“Once burned . . .” She shrugged. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ve been a bit too trusting when it comes to Emily. She’s no less susceptible to temptation than anyone else.”

“Maybe more so. You know what they say about what absolute power brings.”

“Yeah. And all I want to do is make sure she’s not erasing something that doesn’t need to be erased.” Kate stood, reached into her evening bag, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper on which she’d scribbled a grocery list. Embedded in the list were the names of the three holding companies that she’d spent most of the late afternoon and early evening tracking down.

She handed him the paper. “Here’s where to start.”

He examined the list, raising an eyebrow over her unusual precaution, then slipped the paper into his inner jacket pocket.

“I’m afraid time may be of the essence. I just hope we’re not too late.”

“I’ll do my best.” He paused and took her hands in his. “You know I’m not doing this for Emily.” He waited a moment; then his face grew a little red as he quirked a brief smile. “Okay, so part of it’s for Emily. I consider this part of the reparation that I need to make to her for the years I spent more time in the bottle than I did with her. But I’m also doing this because I consider you a good friend.”

When he made eye contact with her, his momentary flush faded, and she found herself caught up in the seriousness and sincerity of his expression.

Kate wasn’t sure why she reacted like she did. She wasn’t an impetuous woman, but she did understand the value of taking proper advantage of a situation. Maybe that’s why she stood on her toes, reached up, and kissed him.