[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

justice, I won t lie to you, I ll do it. I ll expose them and truthfully, it s
part of the reason I want us to go away. It s possible they might try to find
me when it s over. But I can take care of everything. You have to trust me,
Jill. It s the right thing.
 You re going to expose them?
 Yes.
 But it s dangerous?
 I won t lie to you, he said with a grim smile.  It could be dangerous, but
nothing I can t handle.
 And that s why you asked about Talia? she said.  Because we might have to
hide?
 Yes, he said solemnly,  we might. There s a very real chance you might not
be able to see her or anyone ever.
Jill was silent. After a time she reached out and brought his hand to her
mouth, kissing his fingers lightly.  I don t want that, Kurt, she said
softly,  I really don t. But if you re asking me will I still go away with
you, even with all that, the answer is still yes. Yes, I will.
His mind began to spin now, but in an ordered, balanced way, like a gyroscope.
There were a million things he had to do; a million things he had to consider.
Each one had to be thought out and executed to perfection. The simplest error,
like the brush of a sleeve against a house of cards, could ruin everything.
First, he had to avenge his son. At the same time, he had to plan an effective
escape, not just for himself, but for Jill. He had to do it in secret. If
things went wrong, he didn t want her to be culpable. If his plan worked, he
wanted to be able to whisk her away and disappear without a trace. He d have
to find a place for them to go. He d have to create new identities. He d have
to move his money out of the country so they could live out their lives in
hidden comfort. It was a daunting task, but Kurt knew if he could build a
billion-dollar company from nothing, he could do this too.
 Thank you, my love, he whispered, repeatedly kissing her face and hugging
her tight. When he finally felt her relax, he gave her one last gentle squeeze
and got up to take a shower.
Page 36
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
 Call the pilots, will you? he said with a disarming smile.  Tell them we ll
be heading back in two hours.
 Are we going home? she asked excitedly.
 Yeah, he said as he disappeared into the bathroom.  We ll go to the lake. I
need some time to think about how I m going to do all this.
Kurt came out of the shower refreshed and steadier than when he d gone in. But
the undercurrent of sadness that hung about him was palpable. Only the arrival
of Jill had bolstered his spirits enough to give him even the outward
appearance of calm. The image of the dead girl from the night before had been
relegated to the same dark corner as the photos of Collin. But the troubling
emotions from everything that had happened lurked just beneath the surface. He
needed to get out of Washington, back to a place where he could consider the
situation from afar. Then he would act.
Jill had everything packed and had arranged for the plane to be ready by
twelve-thirty. They had a late breakfast in the hotel restaurant and then
stopped briefly at the Starbucks across the street for cappuccino before
heading out to the airport. Their conversation was limited to fluffy banter,
each of them apparently keeping it afloat for the sake of the other.
At thirty thousand feet, however, their talk ebbed. In the pocket on the side
of Kurt s leather recliner were stuffed several newspapers from that morning.
On page three of the Washington Post was a story about the president s
campaign schedule for the coming months. Kurt eyed Jill warily before digging
into the article. She was oblivious. She had already taken his cue and was
reading her book.
A third of the way down the page, Kurt nearly gasped aloud. His eyes were
locked on the words  Skaneateles Lake. The article said the president was
coming to Skaneateles, his town, the town where he kept his summer home, in
less than six weeks. An appearance at the nearby New York State Fair would
give the president the opportunity to glad-hand the swing voters of upstate
New York that could carry the state in what people were predicting would be a
close race. Kurt s mind went back into high gear. It was serendipity, the
events of the earth and the stars lining up to serve the implacable forces of
justice. Kurt had the intoxicating thrill of a man about to commit an act of
almost religious significance, a man about to eradicate a scourge from
humanity.
Killing the president was something that required fearlessness and luck.
Getting away with it would require even more of both. Inside knowledge that he
had but also serendipity. Now he had that too. It was as if it had been
written down long ago. It was meant to be.
The president and his wife were to be the guests of a federal judge whose
turn-of-the-century mansion was almost directly across the lake from Kurt s.
Six weeks gave him plenty of time to reconnoiter the house and the grounds
before the advance team for the Secret Service even began their work. Kurt
could get in and around the house and devise his plan without arousing the
slightest suspicion. It was an opportunity so perfect that his heart raced in
his chest and a merciless grin broke out on his lips.
CHAPTER 10
In the Oval Office of the White House, the president of the United States,
Calvin Parkes, sat behind his desk facing the high-living, obese secretary of
state and the ramrod-straight chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Behind
them, by the door, Mack Taylor stood impassively as he always did, less
obtrusive than a floor lamp to those who spent any time at all around the
president. The president measured his words carefully before he spoke.
 Let s try to talk to the Iranians, he said. He was a large man, and although
his shoulders were rounded he liked to keep them pulled back straight. His
blustery red face, thick white hair, and deep, sonorous voice made him an
imposing figure.
What he wanted to say was:  Let s launch some missiles. But that wouldn t do.
Page 37
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
It was one of the most painful things to him about being president. Calvin
Parkes had grown up accustomed to saying anything he thought. As a boy in
Pittsburgh, he was the son of Jonathan Parkes, the third-generation owner of
the Pennsylvania and Ohio Railroad. From an early age, the president had grown
used to flinging his opinion carelessly about, whether it was asked for or
not. Now, with the entire world hanging on his every inclination, he had
learned to bury his more caustic sentiments beneath the guarded mumbo-jumbo
that he d come to acquire in public life.
He hadn t chosen politics out of need but desire. It was a desire, however,
born from a vanity that superseded most men s needs. His father had
successfully sold the family railroad in the seventies and just as
successfully invested the proceeds in the stock market. So people thought
things came easy to the Parkeses.
While being the scion of a long line of millionaires had its advantages, it
also incited jealousy, and only among the vulgar did it garner real
admiration. Men of accomplishment tended to view a young man who came from old [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]