Part 38 (1/2)
”But was anything he did worth what prosecuting him did to us, eventually? It was not.
”For this reason, and though it pains me to the core, and even though I hold her responsible for the deaths of my brother, my husband and my son...and even though she brought rack and ruin to my home state, I am going to ask you for one special amendment to the new-hopefully also the old-Const.i.tution. I am, in fact, asking you now for an amendment that will prevent a former President from being found criminally liable for political acts committed while in office.
”Fine her, if you wish. Exile her, if you wish. But do not let anyone send Wilhelmina Rottemeyer to jail lest you build at the same time, as President Tavern did, a jail for us all.”
She closed shyly, ”Thank you.”
New York, New York Rottemeyer glared at the television, furious. ”That b.i.t.c.h! That c.u.n.t! That miserable wetback t.w.a.t! How dare dare she be magnanimous to me? How she be magnanimous to me? How dare dare she?” she?”
Feldman merely shrugged. It seemed like a pretty good deal to him.
The President stood and began to pace the room. ”Killed her brother,” she mimicked. ”Killed her son. Killed her illiterate f.u.c.king husband, did I? When I think about what that b.i.t.c.h b.i.t.c.h cost cost me me...”
She turned a cold, harsh gaze onto Feldman, one so cold and harsh he actually s.h.i.+vered. ”Fine. Tell the chairman I'll go speak to this...d.a.m.ned... treacherous...convention.”
Once again, Rottemeyer glared at the television screen where Juanita was receiving the ovation that in her world was rightfully due only to herself.
Houston, Texas Elpi had been staying at a house of some friends of Minh. She was comfortable there, physically. Emotionally though it had never seemed quite right to her. The house was arranged differently. The furniture was different from what she was used to. The smells of cooking were-yes-pleasant, but also different, and a little unsettling.
The owners and her hosts, Madame and Monsieur Truong, certainly tried to make her comfortable. But their Spanish was poor and Elpi's French nonexistent. Communication in English was a trial for all concerned.
The girl found herself watching a lot of television. That also helped her refrain from worrying about her future.
For the governor had never sent for her. Or even communicated. Elpi was certain that Juanita was overwhelmed by events; she attached no blame. Elpi also had a sneaking suspicion that, whether the governor actually thought that way or not, the a.s.sociation with loss-Father Jorge, Mario, and Mr. Seguin-just might have caused Juanita to push the girl as far from her consciousness as possible.
On the television Juanita was speaking in English to the crowd. Naturally, Houston being Houston and the cable channels reflecting that, the speech was subt.i.tled in Spanish.
The Governor looks so worn and tired on the TV, thought the girl. She looks so sad, too.
Elpi resolved to have a talk with Colonel Minh.
Kansas City, Missouri Mr. Smythe was a simple man, in his way; an undistinguished one, also, to all appearances. Medium short, with a slight paunch, crowned by thinning blond hair tinged with unremarkable gray.
He lived simply enough, alone, in a two-bedroom condo between the city and nearby Leavenworth, Kansas. His needs were few and his job, though he was rarely called upon, more than met them.
Carroll had met Smythe before, once. As he had then, Smythe pushed across the table a piece of paper with a number, a rather large number, written on it.
Unnecessarily, Smythe added, ”My fee is not negotiable.”
”I understand that,” Carroll answered. ”You will be needing credentials?”
”Yes. I will list my requirements later.”
Though a cold man, Smythe couldn't help a warm s.h.i.+ver of antic.i.p.ation. He had his own standards of achievement. Two major figures in one lifetime. No one has ever gotten two in one lifetime. Two major figures in one lifetime. No one has ever gotten two in one lifetime.
Chapter Twenty-One.
From the transcript at trial: Commonwealth of Virginia v. Alvin Scheer DIRECT EXAMINATION, CONTINUEDBY MR. STENNINGS:.
Q. So you went to Virginia Beach, Alvin?
A. Yes, sir. I already said so, didn't I? But, Lord, it was a nightmare. I couldn't find a cheap room and I couldn't afford a good one if'n I could have found it. I ended up sleeping in my old truck. Moving from one rest area to another. And the nights were pretty chilly, too. Cold...and that wet breeze off the ocean? Well, it was bad.
I drove around a lot during the day. Wasn't too hard to figure out where everything was going on. And, too, I listened to my radio. That's how I found out where the President was staying....
Hotel Cavalier (Hilltop), Virginia Beach, Virginia
There was not, technically, a presidential suite at the Cavalier, though there was one in the nearby, and much newer, Cavalier Oceanfront. Normally. Normally. In fact, the old building, the Hotel Cavalier, was not usually open after the end of the normal season. These however, were not normal times. Sensing vast profits accompanying the convention, management had moved Heaven and Earth, calling back seasonally laid off employees, rus.h.i.+ng to hire fillers, and even calling back some retired personnel to fill the remaining gaps. In fact, the old building, the Hotel Cavalier, was not usually open after the end of the normal season. These however, were not normal times. Sensing vast profits accompanying the convention, management had moved Heaven and Earth, calling back seasonally laid off employees, rus.h.i.+ng to hire fillers, and even calling back some retired personnel to fill the remaining gaps.
Even in the Oceanfront, the Presidential Suite was nothing more than an ad hoc joining of four normally independent suites. Absent a President, these had already been rented individually.
The next best thing, and even Wilhelmina Rottemeyer had to confess that next best was very good indeed, was the Cavalier Suite in the old hotel. Not that it pleased her, precisely. Nothing could really please her but a long, peaceful contemplation of Juanita Seguin's corpse, well embalmed and neatly laid out.
But, sigh, that was not to be. Or, if it was, it was not going to happen as a result of anything Wilhelmina Rottemeyer could do, one way or the other.
If she believed in a G.o.d she would ask for that one little boon. Since she didn't believe...
The Secret Service, the real Secret Service, not the b.a.s.t.a.r.dized political army Rottemeyer had created and now lost, still took its duties seriously. They didn't like her, they could hardly wait for her disappearance from office, but they had-by G.o.d-a duty to defend her and they would meet that duty come h.e.l.l or high water.
Among the precautions that the Secret Service had taken were the posting of countersnipers on the roofs of both parts of the Cavalier-Hilltop and Oceanfront, plus on the roof of the Ocean Tower, a different hotel south of the Oceanfront and southwest of the Hilltop. These were not on duty twenty-four hours a day, but they would be on duty at anytime the President was in or around her hotel.
Smythe noticed this, of course, and wrote them off. The Secret Service was essentially irrelevant to his plans.
Alvin was having a difficult time of it. He drove the length of road fronting the beach over and over. He simply could not see any way to do what he intended to do. Dressed as he was, with a rifle that he could not very well hide, with little money and no expectation of actually getting inside of one of the hotels without being noticed...well, the task seemed hopeless.