The nights were the worst thing about being in prison, Charles Logan had decided. He had found some solace in keeping as busy as possible during the day with his cleaning job and volunteering in the prison library, but come nightfall he had no distractions to black out his racing thoughts. He had in fact adapted rather well to prison life, spurred by the realization that he was on his own: With his divorce and simultaneous realization that there was no one he could turn to for sympathy or support, some primitive survival instinct had kicked into action. Graem Bauer had expressed surprise at his ability to adjust, but Charles knew exactly what had happened. The brutal lessons he'd learned from his father had come back to him as he acclimated to prison life, and he found a certain grim humor in the realization that his current existence was very similar to his boyhood in the exclusive boarding school he'd attended.
His thoughts returned, as they so often did, to Martha. Graem's warning had not been lost on him; lately he'd found himself eyeing every guard and every fellow prisoner with suspicion. Are you working with Whitcomb? Did you leave the phone? What comes next? At the conclusion of their previous conversation Charles had been forced to leave the bathroom to return his cleaning supplies; when he returned ten minutes later to check behind the toilet the cell phone had vanished. It was highly likely, he thought, that Graem had informed Christian of the gist of their discussion. If so, Whitcomb would be aware both that he was suspected in Dunlap's death and that the Secret Service knew he had gained access to Martha's apartment. What measures might a ruthless man like Whitcomb resort to in order to protect himself? This idea sent Charles to the verge of panic, but he calmed himself and tried to review the situation carefully. His first thought was that it was time for Whitcomb to leave the country. Surely Graem could help with that, he decided, forcing himself to relax. Next he determined to send a message to Martha asking her to visit him as soon as possible. I have to warn her, he thought, absently turning his wedding ring on his finger.
Christian Whitcomb checked the display on his cell phone and grimaced slightly as he recognized the caller's number. Better get it over with, he thought as he answered the call.
"This is Whitcomb."
"Christian, it's Graem. I need to talk to our friend. The one who's having trouble communicating." (Unseen by Graem, Whitcomb rolled his eyes in exasperation.) "Have you made any progress with that?"
"I have, yes. Our facilitator has not been scheduled to work the last couple of days, but he's going to be there today and he knows what to do." For a moment Whitcomb was tempted to say "He's going to smuggle the phone to President Logan today" for the sheer pleasure of provoking a panic attack in his employer, but thought better of it. The impulse to court risk had been gaining on him in recent days, and he already knew Graem would not be pleased with what he had to report. He cleared his throat and changed the subject.
"Graem, after our last conversation I decided that it was worth doing some investigation into what you told me. You were right, I now have proof that I'm being watched."
"What sort of proof?"
Christian again found himself becoming impatient with the hint of anxiety in the other man's tone. "I decided to set up a situation that would allow me to check on the man I've been working with. I told the janitor I needed keys to the Powell apartment."
"You what?" Graem's panic was now off the scale. "What in God's name did you do that for?"
"I'll tell you." Christian made his tone as reasonable as possible. "I had nothing to lose by making this request. I didn't take the keys, which makes it Slater's word against mine. When I met him outside the building it was crystal-clear that we were under surveillance. Slater's no actor, I'm afraid. He couldn't stop himself from staring at the building across the street, especially when he went to hand me the keys." Remembering Slater's awkwardness, Whitcomb chuckled for a moment: "It was like watching a seven-year-old in a school play. At any rate, I told him I needed to speak with him and got him to open the door and invite me into the building. I sent him off to make tea and that gave me a chance to inspect the facilities. I gained a lot of information from that visit, let me tell you. He's keeping the keys for me—for a price, of course—and I can still get in any time I want. I also made it clear to him that I'll be coming after him if I find out he's been talking about me." Whitcomb's tone turned grim. "He won't be quite so eager to spill everything he knows now, but I still wouldn't tell him anything I wouldn't want him to share with the Secret Service. Or the police."
"That's all well and good, Christian, but you left one factor out of this equation. Charles. When I spoke to him he told me that if his ex-wife were put in any danger, he'd break his agreement. You know he's going to find out about this."
His confederate shrugged. "Just make sure he finds out from you first. When you call him, make it clear that she isn't in danger. At least for now. This was a stratagem, Graem, nothing else. I did this to get information and I found out what I needed to know. I don't anticipate any need to disturb Ms. Powell at this time. I admit I thought it might give us leverage if he knows that we could, but if you think it would panic him there's no need to emphasize that aspect of it."
"It would, but you're right, I can reassure him." Graem fidgeted for a moment. "I still think there's an unnecessary element of risk here. We're supposed to stay dark, not make spectacles of ourselves."
"Risk appeals to me. Don't worry, I have everything under control. I can handle Slater; I promised him an extra two thousand dollars and he's well and truly on the hook. I'm the one taking the real risk here, not you. But then again, that's what you're paying me for, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. I don't mean to criticize. You're doing an excellent job. Just try to keep your impulses under control." Graem snapped his phone shut and glanced at his watch, calculating the time that he'd be able to call Logan.
Over breakfast Aaron was able to convince Martha to meet again with her ex-husband. The Washington police had made no further progress on Dunlap's murder, and Whitcomb's intimidation of Slater had been successful enough that Mitchell had extracted very little additional information from the janitor. Aaron pointed out that repeated meetings with Service agents would likely endanger Charles, whereas a visit from his ex-wife was much less likely to raise suspicion. Martha nodded. "I'll do it," she promised. "I'll call the prison today and see how soon I can arrange a visit." A muted beep turned their attention to Aaron's laptop, sitting open on the table: "I got an email back from Nathan," he commented, staring at the computer screen.
"What's he say?" Martha stood behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders.
"He's thrilled. He says under no circumstances are we to get married till he gets back," Aaron commented, smiling. "'I know you're feeling like the luckiest man in the world, but be sure to tell Em that she's a lucky woman.'"
"Em?"
"He wasn't sure what to call you," Aaron explained. "He didn't feel comfortable calling you Martha, so he had to come up with something else. He said he first thought of your initial M, but it sounded too much like James Bond, so he went with Em, e-m."
"Em," Martha repeated. "My new Texas name. I like it, but I'm not letting Jen call me 'Auntie Em,'" she finished, laughing. "When will he get leave, do we know?"
"He's due at the end of the summer. Does Labor Day weekend sound okay to you?"
"I've got to call Neil and see if that will work for him. Also, I've got to talk to him about Jennifer and see if she can help him in some way."
Aaron looked puzzled. "Neil?"
"Neil Roston, Aaron, the designer we met with at Neiman-Marcus. He's going to make my gown, or at least I have to offer him the chance to do it if he wants to."
"I thought you wanted a simple wedding," her fiancé frowned.
"I do, but even simple weddings can be complicated, Aaron. You know Jen wants to help, and I'd really like to let her have a part in designing the gown. And after the favor Neil just did us, I can't get married and not talk to him about my wedding dress."
"I see your point." Aaron sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You sure we can't get married at City Hall?" he added half-seriously.
"You don't really want to do that." Martha kissed his forehead. "Your family wouldn't be too happy about it, and if we're going to move back to Texas I need to put down some roots. I can't think of a better way to do that than a church wedding, in your church, in your town. This is a goodwill investment."
Aaron pulled her down onto his lap. "You're right," he agreed, "but somehow I was hoping it would just be us."
Martha slid her arms around him. "Weddings are never 'just us.' That's what the honeymoon is for. I'm going to put you in charge of planning that," she added as his expression brightened. "Don't worry, I'm not going to let this get out of control, and neither is Angie. Just your family, a few close friends, that's all I want."
Unfortunately for the state of her nerves, Martha's resolve to plan a quiet wedding was severely tested shortly afterward when she received a phone call from President Gardner.
"Martha, I have good news," he began after complimenting her on the success of her tour. "Our relations with Suvarov have continued to improve. He and his wife are planning a state visit and we're hoping you'll be able to meet with them."
"I'd love to, Hal. Do you know when they're coming?"
"They're scheduled for the week after Labor Day."
"Oh, no," Martha groaned. "Hal, I don't know if I'll be able to make it. The truth is, Aaron Pierce and I have gotten engaged and we're planning to get married right around that time."
After a split second of stunned silence, Gardner responded with congratulations. "You'll be getting married in Washington, of course?"
"Well, no, Hal. Aaron's family all live in Texas, and they couldn't really afford to travel to Washington. We're getting married there. This is a second marriage for both of us, and we just wanted a quiet family wedding."
"Martha, this is news! Everyone who counts in Washington will want to be there."
Martha grimaced. "That's just what we don't want. I've had enough publicity, Hal, really. And Aaron hates that sort of thing."
Gardner sighed. "Well, I'm afraid there's no way Beth and I would be able to make it to Texas, there's just too much going on. The election..." he let the sentence trail off.
Martha gulped as she realized that Gardner was clearly expecting to be invited. "Oh no, Hal, I understand completely. I can take you off the guest list if you'd like," she offered hopefully.
"Well, let me talk to Beth first. I still think we should do something for you, Martha. I know being a public figure is not something you've ever really enjoyed," he added, "but you are a public figure. And remember, this could boost your career. You know what they say: there's no such thing as bad publicity." He chuckled at his own quip and rang off, promising to call her back.
On the other end of the line: "Oh, my God. Angie!"
When the cell phone rang Logan was shelving books in the library. He had been performing maintenance duties prior to opening the library to his fellow inmates and had managed to soothe his worries by focusing on the intricacies of the Dewey Decimal System. The ringing startled him for an instant, but this time he immediately realized what was happening and looked around for the phone. Before he picked it up he glanced around quickly, wondering absently who had gained access to the library to place the phone on the bookshelf. It did cross his mind that its location would have been a typical gesture on Christian's part: it was sitting innocently next to a copy of All The President's Men.
"Yes?"
"Charles, it's me."
"I'm glad you called, Graem. I've been thinking—"
"So have I." Logan, irritated by Graem's interruption, suddenly realized that he sounded nervous. "Our friend is becoming more reckless. He actually requested keys to your former wife's residence."
"What?"
"I'm dealing with it, Charles. I think he was acting out. He told me that he didn't really want the keys; he did this to find out whether or not he was being followed. I wanted you to know, I thought you were entitled to the truth. Believe me when I say I had no idea that this was going to happen."
"Graem, you've got to get him out of the country. I don't trust him; I think events are starting to go to his head. He's always had a problem with overconfidence, and it's getting worse. I think it's the only safe thing to do at this point."
"I'm not saying you're wrong. The problem is that we're in the middle of some very delicate negotiations right now with China and Central Asia. I think we're on the verge of getting access to those oil fields and I need Christian's help to pull this off. I can't afford for anything to screw this up, not after what's already happened."
"I imagine your father wouldn't be too happy about that. Would he?" Charles responded dryly.
Graem stiffened. "Don't bring my father into this." Realizing he'd answered too quickly, he forced himself to relax. "None of us wanted things to turn out the way they did. Not him, not me, not you. We just have to keep going and make things right as best we can. He's trusting me to salvage this project and I don't want to let him down."
Logan raised his eyebrows. He well remembered Philip Bauer's strong support of the Keeler/Logan ticket in the last election. It was now clear to him that, having been successful in enlisting Logan, Philip had then dragged his son into his plot to gain access to the Central Asian oil fields. The fact that they were rightfully owned by Russia evidently meant nothing to the elder Bauer except that ownership was an obstacle that needed to be overcome, and Graem, intimidated by his father, would do anything Philip asked. Tough old bastard, thought Charles. It suddenly struck him how similar Philip was to his own father. Was there any way he could draw on this resemblance to forge a closer link with Graem? He thought it was worth a try.
"Graem, I understand what you're saying. I know what it's like to deal with a difficult parent. Philip reminds me of my father in some ways." Logan paused invitingly.
Graem snorted. "Warm, fuzzy memories?" he asked in a mocking tone.
"Anything but." Charles clipped the words off. "My relationship with him was not the best. As a child I was more afraid of him than anything. As I got older things got better, but not by much. Being successful was very important to me because I knew it was something he wanted to see."
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "When you went into politics, was it something he approved of?" Graem finally asked.
"At first he wasn't sure I was doing the right thing, but after I won my first election he became much more supportive. He died just after Keeler picked me as his running mate. That made him very happy." Logan paused for a moment. "I wasn't sure it was the right position for me, and Martha didn't want me to run, but once I saw he approved of it there was no way I was going to turn the opportunity down. I told myself I was doing it for him. In retrospect, that was probably the worst decision I've ever made in my life."
"Why are you telling me this, Charles?" Graem asked quietly.
"Because I don't want you to make the same mistakes I made. You talked about making things right; there's no way I can ever do that. I was in charge, and it was the decisions I made that cost all those people their lives. I don't know how much longer I can live with that, Graem." Logan was pacing around the library to work off his agitation.
"Wait. Just wait. There's nothing you can do about that now. If we can secure that oil it will still be a great help to this country, Charles. And it will have been because of you."
"It won't bring those people back to life."
"Charles, don't do anything in haste. I need to know that I can depend on you." Graem was almost pleading with Logan. "You've been loyal, you haven't let us down. Let's get back to the main issue here. I need you to convince your ex-wife to back off. Get her to focus on her career for a while. That tour of hers did well, from what I hear; when you talk to her, concentrate on that. Butter her up. Promise her that she and Pierce will be safe if she lets it go. Do whatever you have to do, but get them to drop the case."
Logan closed his eyes in frustration. He'd thought that he was getting through to Graem, but the younger man was too deeply involved in his father's schemes to listen to his warning. It was time for the library to open, and he had to end the call. "I will, Graem. Keep Christian away from her. I'll talk to her as soon as possible."
