"Of course, but - "
"You're too important to let anything like this happen to you. This office controls the world, Oliver. You don't want to give this up."
"Todd - I'm not guilty of anything."
"But they think you are. I'm told you have no alibi for the evening of Chloe Houston's murder?"
There was a momentary silence. "No."
Senator Davis smiled. "What happened to your memory, son? You were with me that evening. We spent the whole evening together."
Oliver was looking at him, confused. "What?"
"That's right. I'm your alibi. No one's going to question my word. No one. I'm going to save you, Oliver."
There was a long silence. Oliver said, "What do you want in return, Todd?"
Senator Davis nodded. "We'll start with the Middle Eastern peace conference. You'll call that off. After that, we'll talk. I have great plans for us. We're not going to let anything spoil them."
Oliver said, "I'm going ahead with the peace conference."
Senator Davis's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
"I've decided to go ahead with it. You see, what's important is not how long a president stays in this office, Todd, but what he does when he's in it."
Senator Davis's face was turning red. "Do you know what you're doing?"
"Yes."
The senator leaned across the desk. "I don't think you do. They're on their way here to accuse you of murder, Oliver. Where are you going to make your goddam deals from - the penitentiary? You've just thrown your whole life away, you stupid - "
A voice came over the intercom. "Mr. President, there are some people here to see you. Attorney General Gatlin, Mr. Brandon from the FBI, Chief Justice Graves, and - "
"Send them in."
Senator Davis said savagely, "It looks like I should stick to judging horseflesh. I made a big mistake with you, Oliver. But you just made the biggest mistake of your life. I'm going to destroy you."
The door opened and Attorney General Gatlin entered, followed by Brandon, Justice Graves, and Bergstrom.
Justice Graves said, "Senator Davis..."
Todd Davis nodded curtly and strode out of the room. Barbara Gatlin closed the door behind him. She walked up to the desk.
"Mr. President, this is highly embarrassing, but I hope you will understand. We have to ask you some questions."
Oliver faced them. "I've been told why you're here. Of course, I had nothing to do with any of those deaths."
"I'm sure we're all relieved to hear that, Mr. President," Scott Brandon said, "and I assure you that none of us really believes that you could be involved. But an accusation has been made, and we have no choice but to pursue it."
"I understand."
"Mr. President, have you ever taken the drug Ecstasy?"
"No."
The group looked at one another.
"Mr. President, if you could tell us where you were on October fifteenth, the evening of Chloe Houston's death..."
There was a silence.
"Mr. President?"
"I'm sorry. I can't."
"But surely you can remember where you were, or what you were doing on that evening?"
Silence.
"Mr. President?"
"I - I can't think right now. I'd like you to come back later."
"How much later?" Bergstrom asked.
"Eight o'clock."
Oliver watched them leave. He got up and slowly walked into the small sitting room where Jan was working at a desk. She looked up as Oliver entered.
He took a deep breath and said, "Jan, I - I have a confession to make."
Senator Davis was in an icy rage. How could I have been so stupid? I picked the wrong man. He's trying to destroy everything Vve worked for. I'll teach him what happens to people who try to double-cross me. The Senator sat at his desk for a long time, deciding what he was going to do. Then he picked up a telephone and dialed.
"Miss Stewart, you told me to call you when I had something more for you."
"Yes, Senator?"
"Let me tell you what I want. From now on, I'll expect the full support of the Tribune - campaign contributions, glowing editorials, the works."
"And what do I get in exchange for all this?" Leslie asked.
"The President of the United States. The attorney general has just sworn out a warrant for his arrest for a series of murders."
There was a sharp intake of breath. "Keep talking."
Leslie Stewart was speaking so fast that Matt Baker could not understand a word. "For God's sake, calm down," he said. "What are you trying to say?"
"The president! We've got him, Matt! I just talked to Senator Todd Davis. The chief justice of the Supreme Court, the chief of police, the director of the FBI, and the U.S. attorney general are in the president's office now with a warrant for his arrest on charges of murder. There's a pile of evidence against him, Matt, and he has no alibi. It's the story of the goddam century!"
"You can't print it."
She looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Leslie, a story like this is too big to just - I mean the facts have to be checked and rechecked - "
"And rechecked again until it becomes a headline in The Washington Post? No, thank you. I'm not going to lose this one."
"You can't accuse the President of the United States of murder without - "
Leslie smiled. "I'm not going to, Matt. All we have to do is print the fact that there is a warrant for his arrest. That's enough to destroy him."
"Senator Davis - "
" - is turning in his own son-in-law. He believes the president is guilty. He told me so."
"That's not enough. We'll verify it first, and - "
"With whom - Katharine Graham? Are you out of your mind? We run this right now, or we lose it."
"I can't let you do this, not without verifying everything that - "
"Who do you think you're talking to? This is my paper, and I'll do anything I like with it."
Matt Baker rose. "This is irresponsible. I won't let any of my people write this story."
"They don't have to. I'll write it myself."
"Leslie, if you do this, I'm leaving. For good."
"No, you're not, Matt. You and I are going to share a Pulitzer Prize." She watched him turn and walk out of the office. "You'll be back."
Leslie pressed down the intercom button. "Have Zoltaire come in here."
She looked at him and said, "I want to know my horoscope for the next twenty-four hours."
"Yes, Miss Stewart. I'll be happy to do that." From his pocket, Zoltaire took a small ephemeris, the astrological bible, and opened it. He studied the positions of the stars and the planets for a moment, and his eyes widened.
"What is it?"
Zoltaire looked up. "I - something very important seems to be happening." He pointed to the ephemeris. "Look. Transiting Mars is going over your ninth house Pluto for three days, setting off a square to your - "
"Never mind that," Leslie said impatiently. "Cut to the chase."
He blinked. "The chase? Ah, yes." He looked at the book again. "There is some kind of major event happening. You are in the middle of it. You're going to be even more famous than you are now, Miss Stewart. The whole world is going to know your name."
Leslie was filled with a feeling of intense euphoria. The whole world was going to know her name. She was at the awards ceremonies and the speaker was saying, "And now, the recipient of this year's Pulitzer Prize for the most important story in newspaper history. I give you Miss Leslie Stewart." There was a standing ovation, and the roar was deafening.
"Miss Stewart..."
Leslie shook away the dream.
"Will there be anything else?"
"No," Leslie said. "Thank you, Zoltaire. That's enough."
At seven o'clock that evening, Leslie was looking at a proof of the story she had written. The headline read: MURDER WARRANT SERVED ON PRESIDENT RUSSELL. PRESIDENT ALSO TO BE QUESTIONED IN INVESTIGATION OF SIX DEATHS.
Leslie skimmed her story under it and turned to Lyle Bannister, her managing editor. "Run it," she said. "Put it out as an extra. I want it to hit the streets in an hour, and WTE can broadcast the story at the same time."
Lyle Bannister hesitated. "You don't think Matt Baker should take a look at - ?"
"This isn't his paper, it's mine. Run it. Now."
"Yes, ma'am." He reached for the telephone on Leslie's desk and dialed a number. "We're going with it."
At seven-thirty that evening, Barbara Gatlin and the others in the group were preparing to return to the White House. Barbara Gatlin said heavily, "I hope to God it isn't going to be necessary to use it, but just to be prepared, I'm bringing the warrant for the president's arrest."
Thirty minutes later, Oliver's secretary said, "Attorney General Gatlin and the others are here."
"Send them in."
Oliver watched, pale-faced, as they walked into the Oval Office. Jan was at his side, holding his hand tightly.
Barbara Gatlin said, "Are you prepared to answer our questions now, Mr. President?"
Oliver nodded. "I am."
"Mr. President, did Chloe Houston have an appointment to see you on October fifteenth?"
"She did."
"And did you see her?"
"No. I had to cancel."
The call had come in just before three o'clock. "Darling, it's me. I'm lonely for you. I'm at the lodge in Maryland. I'm sitting by the pool, naked."
"We'll have to do something about that."
"When can you get away?"
"I'll be there in an hour."
Oliver turned to face the group. "If what I'm about to tell you should ever leave this office, it would do irreparable damage to the presidency and to our relations with another country. I'm doing this with the greatest reluctance, but you leave me no choice."
As the group watched in wonder, Oliver walked over to a side door leading to a den and opened it. Sylva Picone stepped into the room.
"This is Sylva Picone, the wife of the Italian ambassador. On the fifteenth, Mrs. Picone and I were together at her lodge in Maryland from four o'clock in the afternoon until two o'clock in the morning. I know absolutely nothing about the murder of Chloe Houston, or any of the other deaths."