Murder in Foggy Bottom - Margaret Truman [94]
“I’ll take it under advisement, Elizabeth.”
“Sir, it’s more urgent than that. What’s the harm in waiting until—”
“Call me as soon as you arrive back in Washington, Elizabeth. Safe flight.” The connection was broken.
“I don’t know what her problem is,” Ashmead said to Cammanati and Targa after hanging up. “She wants me to call off the action in Washington based upon what some Russian mafia guy told an undercover from State. Christ, we have inside information from the Bureau itself, from inside the group.”
“Sir, the latest poll indicates that almost eighty percent of the public wants action taken, and taken now,” said Targa.
Ashmead stood. “Chris, get hold of her public affairs secretary and tell him in no uncertain terms that State is not to issue any statements, answer any questions from the press without prior approval from this office.”
“Right.”
“The line remains open to Director Templeton, Mr. President,” Cammanati said.
“No movement on Jasper’s part?”
“No, sir. The concern is still that Jasper will kill more of his own people if this thing drags on, including kids.”
“Shouldn’t you get back to the reception, sir?” Targa asked.
“Tony, make an excuse for me. I need think time in here—alone!”
As Secretary Rock handed the phone to Eva Young, her face, youthful for someone sixty-four, with fewer lines than might be expected, was deeply creased, her mouth a tight, straight line. She turned to Pauling. “I want you to go over this again for me, give me as many tangible selling points as possible I can use with the president.”
Pauling sighed, drew a breath, looked at Tom Hoctor, and started at the beginning—again.
This time, he went into detail—bloody, chilling detail.
Chapter 35
That Same Morning
Washington, DC
Potamos was still talking to Bellis on his cell phone when he and Roseann got out of the cab in front of CNN’s Washington studios on First Street NE. Bellis, a cordless phone to his ear, was waiting at the door when they arrived and quickly led them into the main studio, where a male and female anchor kept viewers abreast of what was happening at the Jasper ranch.
“Joe, if what you say is true, we’ve got a bombshell to report,” Bellis said after taking them into a small makeup room off the studio.
“Yeah, I know, and it’s an even bigger story if the feds go ahead and storm that ranch, blood and guts and all that, huh? How do we head that off?”
“You want to go on, tell the story? One of the anchors can interview you.”
Potamos looked to Roseann for her reaction. The broad grin on her face mirrored the excitement of the moment, and the pleasure of having him go out front, on television.
“Let’s go,” Bellis said. “Next commercial break, I’ll clue in the anchors.” He picked up a phone on the makeup table, dialed the control room, and told the executive producer of the segment being aired that Potamos had arrived, that the story had to be told, and that the entire CNN network should be alerted the interview was coming up and to clear the time.
Potamos suffered a moment of stage fright. Roseann sensed it and put her arm around his shoulder. “You’ll be great,” she said, kissing his cheek.
He checked for lipstick with his fingertips, said to Bellis, “Don’t I get made up?”
“It wouldn’t help,” Bellis said.
“Thanks,” Potamos said. “I’m ready.”
Secretary Rock had taken detailed notes during Max Pauling’s second recounting of events leading to the information he’d gathered from the Russian. Now, as she led her contingent into Main State, she mentally went over what she would say to the president. Members of her staff were in her outer office watching TV news coverage of the Blaine standoff when the Secretary arrived. Commercials were playing.
“New developments?” she asked.
“Looks like they’re getting ready to go in, Madam Secretary.”
She turned to her chief of staff, Eva Young. “Get me the president.”
As Eva entered the Secretary’s office to place the call, the face of one of CNN’s anchors filled the screen.