Home Free - Fern Michaels [47]
“So, did you get to meet everyone?”
Maggie nodded again because she didn’t know what else to do, even though she hadn’t been introduced to the important people.
“Isn’t Gus just the most interesting person?”
Maggie nodded again.
“Cleo just loves him. I am going to be devastated when he makes his full recovery and Cleo goes back to him.”
A devil perched itself on Maggie’s shoulder. “Gus asked me to marry him. I said yes.” Maggie giggled.
The president burst out laughing. “I know. He told me last night. He’s a great guy, Maggie. He’s really been into Washington politics since his return. All he does is read. He asks questions. I like that. Do you have any questions? The soup is salty, don’t you think?”
What the hell? Maggie tasted the soup and agreed it was salty. When the president pushed her bowl aside, she did the same thing.
“The reporter in me wants to know why all those money people are here. The reporter in me wants to know why all those spooks from abroad are here. Personally, me wants to know if you know anything about Gus that will make sure I get him to the altar.”
Well, she couldn’t have been more blunt if she’d rehearsed her response. Throw out the line and see what you hook was a rule she lived by.
The president smiled. “I wish I had an answer for you. I don’t. That’s why I invited all these people here at the last minute. I thought you could . . . talk this up with . . . ah . . . your colleagues.”
“I’m trying hard not to be stupid here, but you’re going to have to tell me more. My . . . ah . . . colleagues won’t . . . They’ll need more. Trust me.”
“Always follow the money. Isn’t that a rule of something or other? When money goes missing, you start at the beginning and track it. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”
“Well, that’s true. We’ve done enough exposés over the years to give credibility to that theory. Money trail, paper trail, it’s all the same. So what’s gone missing?” Maggie asked.
The president shook her head, which meant she didn’t want to tell or couldn’t tell.
Maggie nodded and continued to ask questions. “So you guys . . . your different agencies, you have beaucoup bucks you use . . . to pay off spies and that kind of thing? Slush funds for special agents and their expenses? High- dollar payouts to agents who go undercover to do things no one ever finds out about. I read a lot of spy novels, and that’s how it works on printed pages. I think I can fill in the blanks if you just nod.”
The president smiled and broke into her turkey croquette. She ladled a chile-verde sauce all over it. “It’s still leftover turkey,” the president said, tongue in cheek. She then nodded.
“Are there many different funds or just one?”
The president held up her fork that had four tines in it.
Maggie wanted to call a halt to this nonsense and bellow, “Tell me. Stop playing games with me.” Richard Nixon and the famous tapes. Maggie eyed the fork and nodded. Four funds.
Maggie was shocked witless when the president said, “Money people, those investment brokers like the friend you brought with you, are such strange people. They don’t operate or live on the same level as ordinary people. All they think about is money and how to invest to get the highest return or how to bilk people, like that Bernie Madoff person in New York.”
Maggie blinked, then blinked again. Oh shit. Was the president telling her Jason Parker was a Bernie Madoff clone? Sounded like it. “I need a name, Madam President. Who controls all those invisible slush funds? One person, four people? Who has the final say, and where does the accounting end?”
In response, or should that be nonresponse, the president shook her head. She reached for her pie just as Maggie pushed up her sleeve and glanced at her watch.
Maggie figured her time would be up when the president took the last bite of her pie. She felt like she was in a puzzle house. The president didn’t seem shy about talking about some things, assuming the conversation was recorded by someone somewhere, and yet she stopped short of actually giving concrete details for her to carry