To Kill the President: The most explosive thriller of the year. Sam Bourne

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СКАЧАТЬ a thing not just with a domestic servant, whose word he could brutally dismiss – such were the realities of Washington’s society – but with a foreign ambassador, and with people watching!

      What made this worse was that even if this incident were to be made public, there was no guarantee it would inflict that much damage on him, still less destroy his presidency. Revelations about his conduct just as damning had emerged during the campaign. People like Maggie had made the mistake then of thinking they would be terminal to his candidacy. They had proved to be nothing of the sort. So why would this be any different? She suspected the Dutch knew as much, and that was one reason why they had kept their objection muted.

      So she held back, listening to Richard’s chatter, chipping in now and then, the two of them talking about nothing, tiptoeing around both of the big subjects on Maggie’s mind.

      Eventually, as relaxed as she could manage it, Maggie said, ‘Did I see you come out of the Oval today? Big step up.’

      ‘It’s true. Second best thing to happen to me today.’ He stroked her thigh, held her gaze. She felt her face grow hot. Had she misinterpreted what she had seen? It wouldn’t be the first time.

      ‘How come?’

      ‘Frank’s not around. They needed someone from Commerce liaison to sit in.’

      ‘To sit in on what?’

      ‘Come on, Mags. Ground rules, remember. Chinese wall. Even here.’

      Maggie picked at a stray noodle on her plate. ‘You mean, you discussed something that may be of interest to the White House legal office? Should I be alerting the ethics team?’

      ‘Maggie!’

      And then, as relaxed and as offhand as she could, ‘I saw the daughter was also there.’

      ‘Yeah, she sort of dropped by.’

      ‘Oh, was she not there for the whole meeting?’

      ‘You know, I can’t remember, honestly.’ Maggie watched Richard’s throat, always a giveaway.

      He swallowed.

      ‘Well, she was either there at the start or she wasn’t.’

      ‘Is this an interview? Should you be reading me my rights?’

      ‘Sorry.’ Maggie got up to get water from the kitchen. She shouted from there, her tone striving for nonchalance. ‘So what’s she like then?’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘You know who. You seemed kind of friendly.’

      ‘Well, it’s like everyone says. She’s very charming.’

      ‘Très charmante.’

      ‘Exactly.’

      Maggie resumed her place on the couch. She wanted to ask what the two of them had been looking at on their phones, but restrained herself. She didn’t want to sound like a stalker. ‘Attractive, too.’

      He smiled, leaned over and began tickling Maggie’s sides. Then he kissed her. ‘Maggie Costello, I do believe you’re jealous.’

      ‘Of course I’m not,’ Maggie laughed. ‘Nothing of the sort. The very idea …’

      ‘You sure?’ he said, reaching for the remote.

      ‘I’m sure. If only because the last thing in the world I’d want is to have that man as my father.’

      ‘Are we back on that again?’

      ‘Did I tell you what McNamara asked me to do today?’

      ‘Hold on.’ Richard had tuned to CNN. Above a ‘Breaking News’ caption was a live shot of protesters in Florida, clashing with men in uniform. He turned up the volume.

       … escalated in the last hour or so. As you know, Kelly, officers of the new United States Deportation Force have been deployed across the state, part of the first phase of rounding up undocumented migrants. The USDF have come here in very big numbers and they’re armed. But as you can see, they’re meeting stiff resistance. Locals here in Miami have formed a human chain, insisting that they will not let the USDF pass. But you can see around me, Kelly, the officers are wielding nightsticks and they’re – hold on, whoa – they’re beating two men right in front of me. Press! We’re press! I’m sorry, Kelly, I don’t know if you can still hear me. Dave, our cameraman, is down. I’m just gonna keep … We’re press! CNN!… The USDF men are charging into this crowd now. They seem to be smashing the heads of anyone and everyone in their way. People are screaming and running and trying to get away. There are children here, Kelly …

      Richard turned the TV off.

      They were silent for a while until Maggie said, ‘“I cannot believe you work for that evil man.” That’s what Liz said.’

      ‘Look,’ Richard replied. ‘We’ve been over this. We can either be like everyone else in this country, sitting on the sofa, watching the news and doing nothing. Or we can stay where we are right now. On the inside. Where we can make a difference.’

      She had clung to that line, parroting it to herself for months. She felt it more keenly than anyone could possibly know. She of all people needed it to be true. How else was she to make amends?

      ‘But what difference are we actually making, Richard? I mean, look.’

      She grabbed the remote and turned the TV back on. It looked like a full-blown riot. A few of the protesters had started burning tyres. In the corner of the screen, she could see a USDF officer clubbing a man who lay unmoving on the ground.

      Maggie stood up. ‘This is not right, Richard. Something’s going to crack, very soon. I can feel it.’

       5

       The Watergate Building, Washington, DC, Monday, 7.25pm

      ‘Here. Scotch, water, no ice. Let’s talk on the balcony.’

      Robert Kassian let Jim Bruton steer him through the living room and outside. Bruton closed the door behind them, tight shut. ‘You can’t be too careful.’

      It was a warm, May evening – in that precious interim between the bone-chilling Washington winter and the stifling, damp summer. He’d been here over ten years, but still Kassian didn’t care for this city. He dreamed often of moving back home to Cleveland or perhaps, who knows, California. But if the place was bearable at all, it was in springtime.

      He looked at the glass dwarfed by Bruton’s hand, then down at his own. Physically, they were an odd match. They always had been. Bruton was a bear of a man. He’d played college football and, while the muscle tone had gone, the size had not. He was always the broadest, tallest man in the room. Kassian was perhaps an inch shorter than him, no more. But he was thinner and, he knew, with a fraction of his friend’s presence. Bruton spoke often and in a voice that demanded attention. Few would ever СКАЧАТЬ