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Fritz shrugs. “At this point, what difference does it make? The investigations here on the Hill and no doubt from the FBI are underway, and that work will take weeks to conduct, weeks where the people’s business won’t take place, and things here and in the Senate will be in lockdown.”
She says, “Fritz, I really admire the way you say ‘the people’s business’ without that rug on your head bursting into flames. It sounds so noble, so pure, only being concerned with the people’s business. That’s utter horseshit and you know it.”
Gwen glances over at the old wind-up clock in the corner of her office, once belonging to her great-grandfather, the son of slaves, alive, still working.
“You have two minutes now,” the speaker of the House says. “Don’t waste them.”
His face flushes. Gwen knows how much he hates his toupee, but it’s part of his “street cred” or whatever with his fellow caucus members and constituents that he wears something so cheap on his scalp.
“It’s like this,” he says. “You have two choices ahead of you. Let the investigations kick in and have the Hill and the nation suffer. Or resign.”
“The way you’re saying that, Fritz, it sounds pretty simple,” she says.
“It’s the best thing for the party and the country, and you know it, Gwen,” he says. “Step down with your name and dignity intact and retire back home to California. I’m sure you can get a comfortable teaching job at some university or college.”
“You think that’s what I really want? A comfortable teaching job?”
“Why not?” he asks. “Leave the charges behind, slip on out—”
Cold fury seizes her. “Congressman, my whole life I’ve never ‘slipped on out’ on any damn thing, and I’m not going to start it today.”
“I was just suggesting—”
“Take your suggestions and shove them where the proverbial sun don’t shine, Congressman,” Gwen says. “The charges are false. And I’m going to fight them every second, minute, and hour of every day, even with you egging on your Stone Age caucus.”
“Fine,” he says, abruptly standing up. “The president is wavering on you, every day I get another phone call from a member who wants to see you gone. There’s too much that has to be done with a weakened speaker in charge. I came here in good faith, to help you out. I should have known I was wasting my time with the likes of you.”
Gwen clenches a fist and gives him a steely smile. “What do you mean, the likes of you? An uppity Black woman who doesn’t know her place?”
“Whatever,” he says, walking quickly to the door. “But I guarantee you, Gwen, in a week, my place will be here.”
CHAPTER 80
LIAM LOOKS TO Noa and Director Abrams, and says, “Kay’s working on a story about Barrett. She knows he’s funding and supporting private paramilitary teams, here and overseas. She doesn’t have all the pieces, but she’s got enough to keep working on it.”
He takes in the surveillance photo. “That’s her. The way she’s dressed, the body frame, the way she holds her arms and the way her head is cocked. That’s Kay.”
Noa says, “But why is she meeting with Donna Otterson? A finance resource officer?”
“Kay’s thorough,” he says. “There has to be something there. She won’t go through official channels to get to her story. And as another incentive, she also hates the Agency for breaking up our marriage.”
The director says, “Is she right?”
Liam says, “Of course she’s right.”
“Can you still see her?” Hannah asks. “Will she talk to you?”
“If she thinks she can get a story out of it, yes,” Liam says. “I talked to her a couple of days ago.”
Hannah says, “What about?”
Liam stares at the director of the CIA. “My violation of my oath.I was confirming her information about President Barrett’s illegal activities, about setting up paramilitary teams here and abroad.”
His boss’s eyes darken and narrow. “One hell of a violation, Mr. Grey.”
“Yes, ma’am. But it was the right thing to do.”
“Says who? Your supervisor, or your conscience?”