The Prisoner - Carlos J. Cortes [166]
“Alleged by whom?” Odelle snapped.
Senator Palmer turned to face her. Dark bags under his eyes gave him the appearance of a tired bloodhound. “Alleged by me.”
“Criminal abuse of the facilities? Don’t make me laugh! No doubt you have depositions, documents, or the like to back your preposterous accusation.” She stretched out a hand, palm up, her eyes on the folder.
“Madam Director, you’ve not convened this meeting. I have, chaired by the secretary of the Senate. Your role here is to answer questions, not make demands.”
She lowered her hand to the table and held it there for an instant, before drawing it back. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to,” Robilliard said.
“Or else?”
“Or else I will presume Senator Palmer’s claims have substance, in which case I will convene a special committee.”
Odelle stared at Robilliard. whatever that bastard Palmer had concocted must surely rest on his vanished witnesses. In a flash, she decided to call their bluff. “Do it, Mr. Secretary. And, when you do, summon me through the proper channels and I will gladly answer any questions. Until then, if you’ll excuse me …” She pushed her chair back as a commotion sounded outside the door.
All eyes turned to the door and the imposing figure of Colonel Edward O’Keefe, the Senate sergeant at arms. He stood under the frame for an instant, then stepped in with curiously short steps. Odelle’s gaze stopped at his empty holster; his sidearm was missing.
Two mountainous soldiers in full combat gear, their weapons trained on O’Keefe, prodded him into the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her companions around the table start to rise, faces disfigured with shock. No, not everybody: Palmer, Genia, Ritter, and Robilliard remained seated.
“What’s the mea—” John Crookshank, the Senate majority leader, blurted.
Another figure blocked the entrance, to a collective gasp around the table. General James Erlenmeyer, also decked in combat fatigues, waited until O’Keefe and the two soldiers stepped aside before marching into the room.
“My forces have secured Capitol Hill and all its accesses. Until this emergency is over, nobody will leave the premises.” He glanced at Odelle Marino. “Or this room.”
“Holy—” someone swore.
Odelle sprang to her feet. “This is high treason, General. I’ll have you thrown in a tank, headfir—” Then she clamped her mouth shut.
General Erlenmeyer turned in her direction, his chin raised so he looked at her down his nose. “I’m sure you would, madam, given the chance.” Then he swiveled on his heel to face Bernard Robilliard. “I have orders from the President of the United States.” He slapped at his tunic top pocket. “My commander-in-chief and that of everyone in this building.” He spoke forcefully, clipping his words. Then he turned to O’Keefe. “Ahead of me, Colonel,” he said, and nodded toward the open door.
Both soldiers stood at attention and marched out of the room after the general and O’Keefe. Odelle gasped as, before the door closed, she spotted Vinson’s ashen face peering in from the hall.
“Now that we’re safely tucked in, perhaps we can resume,” Senator Palmer said.
Silence.
“I will pose a few questions—”
“The only questions I will answer will be before a court of inquiry.”
Senator Palmer tapped his folder lightly, his eyes unfocused. “Very well. I will lay the case and you will listen.”
She had started to shake her head when Senator Palmer jerked his head in her direction, a ferocious expression on his face. “And if you refuse to listen, so help me God I’ll have you placed in irons by the soldiers outside and restrained while I read the charges.”
“Charges?” she growled. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m your nemesis.” Then he snapped his fingers and turned to look over Robilliard’s head.
“Yesterday, at my home, Director Marino threatened my life and that of my family if I didn’t bow to her demands.”
“You liar!” Odelle shouted.
Senator Palmer stared at her for an instant. “A sound and video recording of the exchange is my first exhibit.”
The lights