mouth and sat gravely chewing. “Not that it matters,” he said, “but the one thing
I can’t figure in the whole deal is Jay Fleming having the guts to go for it.”
“Who said he’s going for it? Who said he even knows?”
“I just assumed.”
“Didn’t I also teach you never to assume?”
Ken Harris laughed abruptly.
“Well this time you happen to have assumed correctly,” he said.
Chapter 18
K EN H ARRIS’S FIRST CHANCE to be alone with the vice president alter his meeting with Archer came later the following night in the deputy director’s
bachelor apartment.
Earlier, a purely social evening of dinner and a concert with the vice president and his wife had ended when Amy Fleming suffered
a sudden bout of migraine and had to be dropped off at home. The two men continued on to Harris’s condominium in Chevy Chase.
They were silent until Ken Harris had poured the obligatory Napoleon.
“It’s started,” said the deputy director. “I’ve set things in motion.”
Fleming briefly closed his eyes. He might have been offering a silent prayer.
“When?” he asked.
“Last night.”
“Tell me about it.”
Harris looked evenly at the vice president. “Are you sure you want to hear? There’s really no need for you to know every detail.”
“It could be worse not knowing. I’ve already begun dreaming about it.”
“Just don’t talk in your sleep,” said Ken Harris. “I don’t think Amy would enjoy the idea too much.”
Fleming rolled his eyes heavenward. “Christ!”
“Anyway, I met with my contact, told him what had to be done, and gave him the dates.”
“Just one man?”
The deputy director nodded. “Which means just a single link to me, and none at all to you.”
“He’s not one of your Agency people, is he?”
“Hell, no. I’d never use a Company man for something like this. That would give us too direct a connection if something went
wrong.”
“What if something goes wrong with this man involved?”
Harris shrugged. “He becomes expendable.”
“Who is he?” asked Fleming.
“A pro. The best. With no moral judgments clogging his arteries.”
“How long have you known him?”
“A lot of years. He believes we’re good friends.”
“And you? What do
you
believe?”
“Pretty much the same thing. Unless he becomes a threat.”
Sipping his brandy, Jayson Fleming got up and began to pace. “What about Cortlandt and this man of yours? Does Tommy know
him?”
“I doubt it.”
“You’re not sure?”
“What’s ever sure in this business? In any case, it hardly matters. Whatever has to be done will be done. We’re way beyond
Tommy now.”
The vice president stopped his pacing. “Is your man an American?”
“Yes. But he won’t be the one actually doing it.”
“Who will?”
“Some zealot with his own agenda. Someone who knows and cares nothing about either one of us and will probably end up dead
himself.”
It was nearly three in the morning when the vice president quietly slipped into bed and looked through the silverydark at his sleeping wife. The small frown of pain from her headache was gone and she slept as though she were eighteen years
old.
Amy
.
More than thirty years of living together and how much did they really know about the darker parts of each other? How many
secrets would they finally carry to their graves?
Just don’t talk in your sleep
, Ken Harris had warned.
Lord, if Amy knew.
Jayson Fleming’s eyes blurred at the thought.
Which left him with only one truly significant question. Did he really want the presidency badly enough to murder for it?
Obviously he did.
The whole concept of such a thing had not just sprung full-blown into his brain. It had been germinating ever since he was
forced to accept the fact that Jimmy Dunster was not going to honor his solemn, preconvention pledge not to bury him in all
the ceremonial nonsense that traditionally came with the vice presidency.
“Be honest with
I can’t figure in the whole deal is Jay Fleming having the guts to go for it.”
“Who said he’s going for it? Who said he even knows?”
“I just assumed.”
“Didn’t I also teach you never to assume?”
Ken Harris laughed abruptly.
“Well this time you happen to have assumed correctly,” he said.
Chapter 18
K EN H ARRIS’S FIRST CHANCE to be alone with the vice president alter his meeting with Archer came later the following night in the deputy director’s
bachelor apartment.
Earlier, a purely social evening of dinner and a concert with the vice president and his wife had ended when Amy Fleming suffered
a sudden bout of migraine and had to be dropped off at home. The two men continued on to Harris’s condominium in Chevy Chase.
They were silent until Ken Harris had poured the obligatory Napoleon.
“It’s started,” said the deputy director. “I’ve set things in motion.”
Fleming briefly closed his eyes. He might have been offering a silent prayer.
“When?” he asked.
“Last night.”
“Tell me about it.”
Harris looked evenly at the vice president. “Are you sure you want to hear? There’s really no need for you to know every detail.”
“It could be worse not knowing. I’ve already begun dreaming about it.”
“Just don’t talk in your sleep,” said Ken Harris. “I don’t think Amy would enjoy the idea too much.”
Fleming rolled his eyes heavenward. “Christ!”
“Anyway, I met with my contact, told him what had to be done, and gave him the dates.”
“Just one man?”
The deputy director nodded. “Which means just a single link to me, and none at all to you.”
“He’s not one of your Agency people, is he?”
“Hell, no. I’d never use a Company man for something like this. That would give us too direct a connection if something went
wrong.”
“What if something goes wrong with this man involved?”
Harris shrugged. “He becomes expendable.”
“Who is he?” asked Fleming.
“A pro. The best. With no moral judgments clogging his arteries.”
“How long have you known him?”
“A lot of years. He believes we’re good friends.”
“And you? What do
you
believe?”
“Pretty much the same thing. Unless he becomes a threat.”
Sipping his brandy, Jayson Fleming got up and began to pace. “What about Cortlandt and this man of yours? Does Tommy know
him?”
“I doubt it.”
“You’re not sure?”
“What’s ever sure in this business? In any case, it hardly matters. Whatever has to be done will be done. We’re way beyond
Tommy now.”
The vice president stopped his pacing. “Is your man an American?”
“Yes. But he won’t be the one actually doing it.”
“Who will?”
“Some zealot with his own agenda. Someone who knows and cares nothing about either one of us and will probably end up dead
himself.”
It was nearly three in the morning when the vice president quietly slipped into bed and looked through the silverydark at his sleeping wife. The small frown of pain from her headache was gone and she slept as though she were eighteen years
old.
Amy
.
More than thirty years of living together and how much did they really know about the darker parts of each other? How many
secrets would they finally carry to their graves?
Just don’t talk in your sleep
, Ken Harris had warned.
Lord, if Amy knew.
Jayson Fleming’s eyes blurred at the thought.
Which left him with only one truly significant question. Did he really want the presidency badly enough to murder for it?
Obviously he did.
The whole concept of such a thing had not just sprung full-blown into his brain. It had been germinating ever since he was
forced to accept the fact that Jimmy Dunster was not going to honor his solemn, preconvention pledge not to bury him in all
the ceremonial nonsense that traditionally came with the vice presidency.
“Be honest with
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