“Meaning what?” Peters asked.
“Meaning I can get a warrant to search Johnson’s workplace and talk to his colleagues, or you can just let me do it, security clearance i
nadequacy notwithstanding.”
Reinke smiled and shook his head. “There’s not a court in this country that would issue a search warrant for these premises.”
“What, you’re playing the national security card?” Alex said scornfully.
“Secret Service uses it all the time,” Peters retorted.
“Not for something like this. And let me remind you that the Department of Homeland Security is my boss now, not wimp-ass Treasury.”
“Right. And the director of Homeland Security reports to Carter Gray.”
“Bullshit, they’re both cabinet secretaries.”
Simpson cut in. “Are you guys finished seeing whose penis is bigger? Because this is getting pretty stupid.”
The door opened, and both Reinke and Peters shot to their feet.
Carter Gray stood there gazing at them. Alex watched in stunned silence as Gray walked over and gave Simpson a hug and a peck on the cheek.
“You’re looking lovely as always, Jackie. How are things?”
“I’ve had better days,” she answered, and then gave Alex a scowl before turning back to Gray. “This is my partner, Alex Ford.”
Gray nodded. “Good to meet you, Alex.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Simpson said, “I had dinner with Dad last night.”
“The senator needs to go deer hunting again with me. The last time I bagged a six-pointer. Haven’t had a damn bit of luck since.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“What can we do for you?”
She told him about wanting to look around Patrick Johnson’s office.
“I told them they lacked the necessary security clearances, sir,” Reinke interjected.
“I’m sure you did.” Gray glanced at Simpson. “Come on, Jackie, I’ll walk you down there myself.” He looked back at Reinke and Peters. “That’ll be all,” he said tersely. The two men instantly fled the room.
As Gray led them down the hall, Alex whispered into Simpson’s ear, “Jesus, you didn’t tell me you knew Carter Gray.”
“You never asked.”
“So how do you know him?”
“He’s my godfather.”
CHAPTER
29
WHILE ALEX AND SIMPSON WERE trying to make some headway at NIC, Oliver Stone was playing chess in a park near the White House. His opponent, Thomas Jefferson Wyatt, known universally as T.J., was an old friend who had worked in the kitchen at the White House for almost forty years.
T.J. was a member of the congregation of United Methodist that owned Mt. Zion Cemetery. It was T.J. who helped Stone get the caretaker’s job there.
Weather permitting, Stone and Wyatt would often play chess on Wyatt’s day off. In fact, it was through chess that the men became friends.
Stone made a move without his usual deliberation, and the adverse result was swift as Wyatt captured his queen.
“You okay, Oliver?” Wyatt asked. “Not like you to make mistakes like that.”
“Just some things on my mind, T.J.” He sat back against the park bench and gazed keenly at his friend. “It looks like your current boss will be around for another four years.”
Wyatt shrugged. “From the kitchen one president looks a lot like another, Republican or Democrat. They all eat. But don’t get me wrong. He’s doing an okay job. He treats us good, gives us respect. Gives respect to the Secret Service too; not all of them do, you know. You think you’d treat people willing to take a bullet for you pretty good.” Wyatt shook his head. “Things I’ve seen on that score make you sick.”
“Speaking of the Secret Service, I saw Agent Ford last night.”
Wyatt brightened. “Now, that’s a good man. I told you after Kitty died and I had pneumonia he came to my house to check on me almost every day he was in town.”
“I remember.”
Stone moved one of his bishops forward and said, “I saw Carter Gray land at the White House yesterday.”
“Secret Service don’t like that one bit. Chopper coming in should only be Marine One with the man on it and that’s all.”
“Carter Gray’s status allows him to make his own rules.”
Wyatt grinned, hunched forward and lowered his voice. “Got some scuttlebutt on him you’ll get a kick out of.”
Stone eased forward. Their chess matches sometimes included snatches of relatively innocuous gossip. White House domestic staff tended to have long tenures at the White House, and they were famous for both meticulous attention to their duties and, more important for the First Family, their discretion. It had taken Stone years to get Wyatt comfortable enough to discuss anything that happened at the White House, however trivial.
“The president asked Gray to go up to New York with him on 9/11, you know, for his big speech at the memorial site.” Wyatt paused and looked around at a passerby.
“And?” asked Stone.
“And Gray flat turned him down.”
“That’s a little brazen, even for Gray.”
“Well, you know what happened to his wife and daughter, right?”
“Yes.” Stone had met Barbara Gray decades ago. She was an accomplished woman even back then, with a compassion that her husband had never possessed. Stone had instantly respected her, later faulting the lady only for her poor choice in husbands.
“Then the president asked Gray to go up with him to that town in Pennsylvania, the place that changed its name to Brennan.”
“And is he?”
“You don’t turn down the man twice, right?”
“No, you don’t,” Stone agreed.
Both men fell silent as Wyatt studied the board and then made his move, edging his rook toward Stone’s knight.
While Stone considered his options, he said, “I see that Gray has some problems of his own to deal with. This fellow Patrick Johnson who was found dead on Roosevelt Island, he worked for NIC.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s been making the rounds at the big house.”
“The president’s concerned?”
“He and Gray are real tight. So dirt hits Gray, it’s bound to splash on the president. The man’s no dummy. The president’s loyal, but he’s not stupid.” T.J. glanced around. “I’m not telling tales out of school. Everybody knows that.”
“I’m sure NIC and the White House have been working the media hard, because there wasn’t much in the morning news about it.”
“I know the president’s been ordering a lot of late-night snacks and coffee. Man’s going into the homestretch on the election, and he doesn’t want nothing to upset the applecart. And a dead body can upset a lot of things.”
After their chess match was finished and Wyatt had left, Stone sat and thought for a bit. So Gray was going to Brennan, Pennsylvania? That was interesting. Stone had thought it a little gutsy of the town to pull a stunt like that, but apparently, it had paid off.
He was about to leave when he saw Adelphia walking toward him, carrying two cups of coffee. She sat down and handed him one. “Now we have the café and we chat,” she said firmly. “Unless you have meeting to go to,” she added drolly.
“No, no, I don’t, Adelphia. And thank you for the coffee.” He paused and added, “How did you know I was here?”
“Like that is big secret. Where do you come when you have the game of chess? It is here you come, always it is. With that black man who works at White House.”
“I didn’t know I was that predictable in my movements,” he said, his tone somewhat annoyed.
“Men, men are always predictable. Do you like your café?”