A 212-foot Fade was at the dock, and everyone was waiting for him.All the staff on board are Arabs.
"Welcome, Mr. President," greeted Ali Al Fulani, a minister of the United Arab Emirates, "please come aboard."
Oliver got into the boat.Ali Alfurani gestures to a crew member.After a while, the speedboat set sail.
"Would you like to go under the cabin?"
This is just great.When I got to the cabin, I was either assassinated or kidnapped.Oliver thought, I've never done anything so stupid in my life.When they brought me here, perhaps to attack Israel, I couldn't order retaliation.
How could I do such a thing after listening to Tajir's words!
Oliver followed Ali Alfurani down to the cabin and into a luxurious living room decorated in a Middle Eastern style.In the living room there were four strong Arab guards standing guard.As soon as Oliver entered, a dignified man rose from his seat to meet him.
"Mr. President, this is His Majesty King Ahmed of Ajman," Ali Al Fulani said.
The two shook hands. "Your Majesty the King."
"Thank you for coming, Mr. President. How about some tea?"
"No thanks."
"I believe that your trip will be worthwhile," King Ahmed began to pace. "Mr. President, we have had differences for centuries, philosophical, linguistic, religious, and cultural, and to bridge those differences, if not Possibly, or at least, difficult. It is for these reasons that there are constant wars in our land. If the Jews occupy the land of the Palestinians, neither the Americans in Omaha nor Kansas will be affected, and they will live their lives. days; if the synagogues in Jerusalem were bombed, the Italians in Rome and Venice would not mind."
Oliver didn't know where he was leading the topic. Is this a warning to start a war?
"For all the war and bloodshed in the Middle East, there's only one place in the world that suffers, and that's the Middle East."
He sat down across from Oliver. "It's time we put a stop to this madness."
Oliver thought: He's done talking.
"I am authorized by the heads of governments and parliaments of the Arab countries to make a proposal to you."
"What advice?"
"Peace proposal."
Oliver blinked. "Peace?"
"We want to make peace with your ally Israel. Your embargo policy on Iran and other Arab countries has cost us billions of dollars, and we want to end this situation. If the United States is willing to intervene, the Arab countries-- Including Iran, Libya and Syria - agreed to sit down and negotiate a permanent peace treaty with Israel."
Oliver was stunned, and answered unconsciously: "You did this because—"
"Believe me, it's not out of love for Israelis or Americans, it's in our own interest. Too many of our sons and daughters have died in this crazy war, and we want to end it. War's We've had enough. We want to regain our freedom and sell our oil to the world. If we have to fight, we're ready to fight, but we'd rather have peace."
Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. "I'd like some tea."
"If only you'd go," Oliver said to Peter Tagil. "It's incredible. They're ready for war, but they don't want to. They're pragmatists, they want to sell oil to the world, so they want peace."
"It's really wonderful," Tajir said energetically. "If this story gets out, you will become a hero."
"I can handle this myself," Oliver told him. "Don't make a fuss in Congress. I'm going to talk to the Prime Minister of Israel. I'm going to help him make a deal with the Arab countries." He looked at Tajir, Said sourly: "At that moment, I thought I would be kidnapped."
"Impossible," Peter Tagier reassured him, "I have already arranged for a ship and a helicopter to follow."
"Mr. President, Senator Davis is here waiting to see you. He doesn't have an appointment, but he says it's urgent."
"The next arrangement is suspended for a while, please come in the senator."
The door opened, and Todd Davis walked into the Oval Office.
"Surprised me, Todd, is everything okay?"
Senator Davis sat down. "Very well, Oliver. I just thought of talking to you a little."
Oliver smiled. "I'm very busy today, but for you—"
"Only a few minutes. I met Peter Tagil just now. He told me you met the Arabs."
Oliver grinned. "Isn't it a good thing? Looks like we're finally going to have peace in the Middle East." He slammed his fist on the table. "After all these decades, it's finally here! Todd, this is my achievement, people Will never forget."
Senator Davis asked calmly: "Have you seriously considered the matter, Oliver?"
Oliver frowned. "What? What do you mean?"
"The word peace is simple, but its meaning is ever-changing. Peace will not bring any economic benefits. When there is a war, all countries buy American-made weapons, worth billions of dollars. No one will buy them in peacetime. The U.S. reaps the benefits of rising oil prices because Iranian oil can’t be sold.”
Oliver couldn't believe what he said. "Todd—this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"
"Don't be so naive, Oliver. If we really wanted to make peace between Israel and the Arab countries, we could have done so long ago. Israel is a small country, and any of the five or six previous presidents could have forced it to make a deal with the Arabs, But they'd rather keep the status quo. Don't get me wrong. The Jews are a great people, and I'm working with some of them in the Senate."
"I don't believe you'd—"
"It's up to you, Oliver. It's not good for this country to sign a peace agreement now. I hope you don't go any further."
"I have to go."
"Don't tell me what you have to do, Oliver," Senator Davis bowed. "I've got to tell you, don't forget who put you in this chair."
Oliver said calmly: "Todd, you can disrespect me personally, but you have to respect this office. No matter who puts me in this position, I am the president after all."
Senator Davis stood up abruptly and said, "You're the President? You're a fucking blow-up toy! Oliver, you're my puppet. You carry out orders, not give them."
Oliver was in a daze at him, and it took a long time before he asked, "Todd, how many oil fields do you and your friends own?"
"This has nothing to do with you at all. If you do what you want, I will kill you, understand? Give you twenty-four hours to wake you up."
At supper that evening Jane said, "Papa wants me to talk to you, Oliver, he's very upset."
He looked at his wife across the table and thought to himself: I want to have a fight with you too.
"He told me everything that happened."
"Did he say it?"
"Well," she said, leaning over, "I think what you're about to do is wonderful."
It took Oliver a moment to understand. "But your father objected."
"I know, but he's wrong. If they're willing to make peace—you must help."
Oliver sat listening to Jane, looking at her carefully, and couldn't help thinking that she behaved very well as a first lady.She's been involved in some major philanthropic endeavors, and she's been the advocate of half a dozen major ones.She was smart, beautiful, and considerate—as if he was looking at her for the first time.Oliver was thinking: Why am I still running around restlessly?I already have everything I need here.
"Was the meeting long tonight?"
"No," Oliver said slowly, "I'm going to cancel this meeting. I'm going to stay home."
That night Oliver made love to Jane for the first time in weeks and it was wonderful.By morning, he was thinking: I'm going to tell Peter to vacate that apartment.
The next morning, there was a note on his desk.
"My God," Sim Lombardo sighed softly. "Unbelievable. How did this note arrive?"
"By the mail," Peter Tajer told him, "by name and address to the President, marked 'Personal Letter.'"
Sim Lombardo said, "Probably some madman, purely trying to—"
"Sim, we can't take it lightly. I have no doubts about its authenticity. But if one word gets out, the President is doomed. We must protect the President."
"any idea?"
"First we need to find the person who wrote the letter."
Peter Tajer was talking to Special Agent Clay Jacobs at the FBI headquarters between Pennsylvania Avenue and Tenth Street.
"Peter, you said something urgent?"
"Yes." Peter Tagier opened the briefcase, took out a single piece of paper, and pushed it over the desk.Clay Jacobs picked it up and read it aloud:
"'I want you to know that I am a true admirer of yours... I will get back to you in a few days so you can think about it...'"
Everything in between is painted out.
Jacobs looked up and asked, "What is this?"
"It's top secret," Peter Tajer said. "The President wants me to try to find out who wrote it. He wants you to get your fingerprints."
Clay Jacobs looked at the slip of paper carefully again, frowned and said, "This kind of thing is unusual, Peter."
"why?"
"It's kind of wrong to do that."
"The President just wants you to find out the name of the person who wrote the letter."
"Judging by the fingerprints on the letter?"
Peter Tagier nodded. "Based on the fingerprints on the letter."
"Wait a minute." Jacobs got up and left the office.
Peter Tagier sat looking out of the window, thinking about the letter and the terrible consequences that might follow.A full seven minutes later, Clay Jacques returned to the office.
"You're lucky," he said.Peter Tagier was a little excited. "Did you find anything?"
"Yes," Jacobs said, handing Tajir a note. "The man you're looking for had a traffic accident a year ago. His name is Carl Gorman, and he's a clerk at the Monroe Arms Hotel." He stood for a while, looking at Tajir. "Anything else you want to tell me about this?"
"No," said Peter Tagil sincerely. "Not really."
"Miss Stewart, Frank Lonnogan called from number three and said there was an emergency."
"I'll pick it up." Leslie picked up the phone and pressed the button. "Is that Frank?"
"Is there no one else around?"
"No."
She heard the other party sigh: "Okay, we have a clue." Then he talked for ten minutes at a stretch.
Leslie Stewart hurried to Matt Baker's office. "We need to talk, Matt." She sat down across the table from him. "What would you say if I told you that Oliver Russell was involved in the murder of Chloe Houston?"
"I first thought that you were suffering from paranoia, and had slipped to the edge of danger."
"Frank Lonnogan just called and said what happened. He talked to the governor of Houston, who doesn't believe that Paul Yerby killed her daughter. He also talked to Paul Yerby's parents, and they didn't believe it either. "
"I don't expect them to believe it," Matt Baker said, "if it's just—"
"That was just the beginning. Frank also went to the coroner's room and found the coroner. She said to Frank: The child's belt was tightening the neck and they had to cut the belt around the throat."
Matt listened carefully. "later--?"
"Frank went to check on Jerbie's belongings again and found his belt. The belt was intact."
Matt Baker let out a long breath. "You mean to say that he was murdered in prison and that the truth was concealed?"
"I don't mean anything, I'm just reporting the facts to you. Oliver Russell tried to dope me too. During his campaign for governor, a woman who was a legal secretary died of doping. In When he became governor, his secretary was found in a coma in a park induced by doping. Lonnogan learned: Oliver called the hospital and advised them to remove everything that would keep her alive." Leslie Leaning closer to him, he continued, "The night Chloe Houston was killed, someone called the White House from the Grand Suite. Frank checked the hotel's phone records. The records for the 15th were missing. President's schedule The secretary of the arrangement told Lonnogan that the President had a meeting with General Whitman that evening, but there was none. When Frank spoke with the Governor of Houston, she said that Crowe was visiting the White House and that she had made arrangements for her daughter to meet See the President."
After a long silence, Matt Baker asked, "Where is Frank Lonnogan now?"
"He's looking for Karl Gorman, the hotel clerk. He's the one who made the booking for the superior suite."
Jeremy Robinson explained: "Unfortunately, we do not provide personal information on hotel staff."
Frank Lonnogan said: "I just want his home address so I can—"
"It's no use telling you. Mr. Gorman is on vacation."
Lonnogan sighed. "It's so out of date. I was expecting him to help clarify a few details."
"Find out the details?"
"Yeah. We're about to make a big story about the death of the Governor of Houston's daughter at your hotel. Come on, I can't find Gorman, so I'll have to piece together."
He took out the clip board and pen. "How long has this hotel been in business? I want to know the background, the tenants, and—"
Jeremy Robinson frowned. "Wait a minute! It's really unnecessary. I mean—she's going to die anywhere."
Frank Lonnogan said sympathetically: "I know, but this is where it happened. Your hotel will be famous all over the world as it was."
"Excuse me, is your name——?"
"Lonnogan."
"Mr. Lonnogan, I'd thank you if you could--I mean, that kind of reputation sucks. Isn't there any other way--?"
Lonnogan thought for a moment and replied, "Oh, it's just that if I can talk to Mr. Gorman, I think I might report from a different angle."
"Thank you so much. I'll give you his address."
Frank Lonnogan was getting nervous.As the outlines of the story began to emerge, it became clear that there was a murderous conspiracy within the top leadership, and a cover-up.Before meeting the hotel staff, he decided to go home first.His wife Rita is cooking in the kitchen.The wife was a petite red-haired woman with piercing green eyes and fair skin.She was surprised to see her husband come home.
"Frank, why are you home at noon in broad daylight?"
"Would you like to go home and ask?"
She looked at his expression. "No. There must be something, what is it?"
He hesitated for a moment. "How long has it been since you visited your mother?"
"I went to see her last week. What's the matter?"
"Wouldn't it be nice to go and see her again, dear?"
"What happened?"
He grinned. "An accident?" he said, walking towards the fireplace. "You'd better clean this fireplace. We're going to put a Pulitzer Prize on it, and a Peabody Prize."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm now embarking on a story that's going to blow everyone's minds -- and I mean the top ones: it's the most shocking news story I've ever done."
"Why should I go to see my mother?"
He shrugged and said helplessly: "This is just to prevent accidents, because I may be a little dangerous. Some people don't want to publish such reports. I think you'd better hide for a few days and wait until the wind passes."
"But if you're in real danger—"
"I'm not in any danger."
"Are you sure nothing will happen to you?"
"Certainly not. Pack your simple things. I'll call you tonight."
"Okay." Rita reluctantly agreed.
Lonnogan looked at his watch. "I'll drive you to the train station."
An hour later, Lonnogan stopped in front of a modest gray brick house in Wheaton.He got out of the car, went to the door and rang the doorbell, but there was no response.He pressed it again and waited.The door opened suddenly, and there was a big, middle-aged woman standing at the door, looking at him suspiciously.
"What's up?"
"I'm from the Tax Office," Lonnogan said, shaking his ID card. "I want to see Karl Gorman."
"My brother isn't home."
"Do you know where he is?"
"I don't know." The answer was too fast.
Lonnogan nodded. "What a coincidence. Well, you might as well pack up his things. I'll ask Corey to send a car." Lonnogan turned back to his car after speaking.
"Wait a minute! What car? What did you say?"
Lonnogan stopped, turned around and asked, "Didn't your brother tell you the situation?"
"what's the situation?"
Lonnogan took a few more steps towards the house. "He's in trouble."
She was very anxious when she heard it, and asked, "What's the trouble?"
"I'm afraid I don't want to talk about it," he said, shaking his head. "He seems like a nice fellow, too."
"Indeed," she replied eagerly, "Karl's a decent man."
Lonnogan nodded and replied, "I felt it when I questioned him at the Bureau last time."
She panicked. "Ask him what?"
"There's cheating on the personal income tax, it's too bad. I came to tell him there's a chance, and maybe get him out of trouble, but—" he shrugged, "since he's not here..." Turn around and leave.
"Wait! He's--he's at the fishing spot. I... I didn't mean to tell anybody."
He shrugged. "I just know that."
"No... This time it's another place, in Richmond, Virginia, on the sunny fishing ground on the lake."
"Well, I'll go there and find him."
"Excellent. Are you sure nothing will happen to him?"
"Absolutely not," said Lonnogan. "I will be responsible. He will be taken care of."
Lonnogan was driving south on Highway 1-95.It was a little over a hundred miles to Richmond.A few years ago, Lonnogan had had good luck fishing on the lake there while on vacation.
He wished the same luck this time.
It was drizzling, but Carl Gorman didn't care, because it was a good time for the fish to take the bait.He was fishing for European bass with very large minnows for bait on the line float that was pulling far behind the skiff.The waves gently lapped the small boats rippling in the lake.The bait floating behind the skiff had no fish yet to take it.The fish are not in a hurry, they don't care; and neither does he.He is now in an unbelievably happy mood.He was about to become a millionaire, something that he never even dreamed of.It's pure luck.The time is right, the place is right.He was returning to the Monroe Arms Hotel that day to pick up a jacket he had forgotten, and was about to leave the garage when the door of the secret elevator opened.As soon as he saw who walked out of the elevator door, he was stunned and sat still in the car. He saw with his own eyes that the person turned back to wipe his fingerprints before driving away.
It wasn't until the next day that he saw the report of the murder that he connected what he saw, and in a way he felt sorry for the man.He was thinking: I really adore him.The trouble is, when you're that famous, you can never hide from people's attention.Wherever you go, the whole world knows it.He's going to pay for my silence, he has no choice.At the beginning, I asked for a price of 100,000.Once he gives that number, he will keep sending money.Maybe I'll buy a big villa in France, or a wooden farmhouse in Switzerland.
He felt a tug at the end of the line and he pulled the rod towards him.He felt the fish was trying to escape.You can't get anywhere, I've got you hooked.
Then he heard the rumble of a speedboat in the distance.He thought: there should not be such a powerful speedboat cruising on the lake, it would scare all the fish away.The speedboat quickly approached him.
"Don't get too close," Carl yelled.
The speedboat seemed to be heading for him.
"Hey, watch out. See where you're sailing to. God—"
The speedboat plunged into the dinghy, cut it in half, and the lake covered Gorman.
Damn, drunk fool!He was cursing inwardly, gasping for breath, trying to stick his head out of the water.The speedboat made a circle and rushed straight at him again.Carl Gorman felt a fish tug on his line for the last moment before the speedboat smashed his head into pieces.
Frank Lonnogan drove to the lake and saw there were many police cars, a fire engine and an ambulance.The ambulance just drove away.
Frank Lonnogan got out of the car and asked a nearby spectator, "What's going on here, what's going on?"
"A poor man had an accident on the lake. I'm afraid he has few bones left."
Lonnogan knew it.
In the middle of the night, Frank Lonnogan is alone in his apartment, writing a report on his computer that will destroy the President of the United States.The story would earn him a Pulitzer Prize, he was sure of it.His fame would outweigh it.Such reports will be the monument of the century.
The doorbell interrupted his thoughts.He got up and walked towards the door.
"Who is it?"
"Package from Leslie Stewart."
It immediately occurred to him that she had discovered something new.He opened the door.The gleaming murder weapon shook, and he felt an unbearable pain, and his chest was split in two.
Then, nothing exists.
Notes:
Notes: