Death of American Virtue - Ken Gormley [357]
Bittman noted that the president’s neck and face appeared unusually red, as if sunburned; he wondered if the president had just returned from vacation. The agent, who held a Ph.D. in the field of science, commented as they exited the northeast gate. “That was not sunburn,” she said, offering her expert opinion. “He was angry.”
Although OIC would never know it, the White House physician took a third vial of blood from the president’s arm, the moment the Starr representatives left the building. The president’s private lawyers, still not knowing the truth about the Lewinsky puzzle, feared that Starr’s office might “hoke up the sample.” The only safe option, they concluded, was to extract their own specimen and lock it in a refrigerated repository in case OIC tried to pull a trick. David Kendall, feeling that he was obligated to maintain a strict dividing line between himself (as private counsel), the president’s White House counsel, and his political team, kept this second sample a secret even from Clinton’s highest-level advisers. Said one member of Kendall’s team: “We had to assume, whatever the facts were, the dress would reflect those facts. It was physical evidence.” DNA tests, the president’s lawyers knew, were “precise and powerful.” Like everyone else in the world interested in this drama, the president’s own counselors remained “totally in the dark.”
As speculation concerning President Clinton’s upcoming grand jury appearance intensified in the national media, the games of spy-versus-spy escalated. During this time, the friction between the Secret Service and the FBI reached a new level of intensity. One group was sworn to protect the life of the president; the other was fiercely loyal to the investigation headed by Ken Starr. This tension finally sent sparks flying by early August, as the nation held its breath waiting to see what President Bill Clinton would say once Starr’s prosecutors got him under oath.
Secret Service Director Lew Merletti was attending a conference in Atlantic City, trying to conduct business as usual. Merletti was making the rounds at a reception when a “very high level” official in the FBI’s Criminal Investigative Division sidled up to him quietly. This official, whom Merletti had known for years, leaned over and whispered, “Boy, what a mess with this whole thing.”
As Merletti recalled the startling sidebar discussion, his compatriot from the FBI began wading into forbidden waters, talking about the pending Starr investigation as if they were engaging in the most natural conversation in the world. “Now, certainly only a fool would go ask him about anything about the Monica Lewinsky case,” Merletti said later. “I mean, I hope I’m not a fool. At least not that big a one.” Already, the Secret Service had been accused of covering up for Bill Clinton and funneling sensitive information to the president. Director Merletti was not about to take the bait, yet the FBI official kept talking.
“Listen,” the man said in confidence. “I’m going to tell you something right now. The president has nothing to worry about.”
Merletti stared at him. The man continued: “I’m in charge of that at the lab. We’ve gone over that whole dress. There’s nothing there. There’s no DNA on it. That thing’s clean.”
Merletti thought to himself, “Why is he telling me this?” With that, the FBI official walked away as quickly as he had appeared.
The director of the Secret Service remained frozen in his tracks. He thought, “I’ve been told this for a reason. I mean, I believe they’re either trying to set me up, or they’re trying to set the president up, or they’re setting both of us up.” Obviously, the endgame was to see “if I would take this [information] back.” Merletti later concluded, raising his hands in angry exclamation, “Well, regardless, I wouldn’t take it back [to the White House], anyway. So I didn’t say a word. Not a word. And I’m thinking to myself, ‘Well, if he [President Clinton] knew what I knew, he would be able to testify a certain way.’”
Regardless of the possible consequences,