Whiplash - Catherine Coulter [93]
They watched the elderly senator pause to allow the newswoman to stride up to him, and looked into the camera. All I know is there's been a terrible accident. I'm joining his family, all of us will be praying for Vice President Valenti's full recovery. And he walked toward the hospital without looking back. Senator, sources are telling us this wasn't necessarily an accident. Do you know what happened? Do you think he will die?
The cops cheered when the Secret Service barred the hospital doors to keep the newswoman and the cameras out.
The coverage returned to the newsroom where four talking heads were already gathered, looking sad and shocked, but not sad enough to keep them all from talking. It only took them a minute to speculate about who President Holley would pick as his vice president if Alex Valenti died.
Bowie stood there shaking his head, looking shell-shocked, unable to take it in. He took a cup of water from Savich as they went back into the conference room, stood silent as he drank it down. "I can't believe this is happening. Georgie and I were visiting my folks in Chevy Chase two weekends ago and we had dinner with Uncle Alex and Aunt Elyssa. His son and daughter, and their spouses and their four kids, all of us were there. One of the kids wanted me to tell them an FBI story and so I told them about a bank robber we caught in L.A. a couple of years ago who was using some stolen bills to light his stove. When he was questioned about this at his arraignment, he told the judge they were only twenties.
"Uncle Alex really liked that story, laughed his head off. Listen, this is a guy who takes care of himself. Sure, who wouldn't be stressed, with the job he has, but I was surprised how upbeat he was, joking about how he'd nearly made an eagle on hole fifteen, just a bad roll that made it end up a bogie." He looked around at them, not really seeing them. "No, this can't be right. The thing is, Uncle Alex is an excellent driver. He's always loved cars, used to be his own mechanic until he became vice president and didn't have the time. He taught his kids how to drive, pounded safety into them. He even kidded my dad that he should teach me how to drive since my dad had had three fender benders in that many years. No, this just can't be right."
Savich's cell pounded out Michael Jackson's "Thriller." He frowned when he saw who was calling, turned and walked out of the conference room into the police station hallway, empty except for a single teenage boy who was sitting on a wooden bench scratching his head, his mother standing over him, her arms crossed over her chest, looking pissed.
"Savich. What's up, sir?"
Five minutes later, Savich returned. "That was Mr. Maitland." He paused a moment, frowning down at his thumbnail. "Vice President Valenti is still alive. He's been in surgery for about two hours now. The doctors have told the family that besides several broken bones, he has critical internal injuries. I'm sorry, Bowie,
Mr. Maitland said they've stopped the bleeding, and he might make it, but it doesn't look good. Everyone agrees it's a miracle he survived the crash at all.
"He was doing at least eighty miles an hour, maybe faster, before his car hit the tree head-on. He was driving on a two-lane country road, no cars in front of him and no cars behind him except for the Secret Service. There were no skid marks, no sign at all that he ever tried to turn or swerve to avoid the collision. Mr. Maitland said it's as if he aimed the car right at the oak. The tree was some eight feet off the road on fairly level ground.
"The vice president had been in a meeting with his staff, left them to drive to the birthday party in Jessup." He looked at Sherlock. "Turns out he and Senator David Hoffman are longtime friends, and both are car freaks. The vice president had arranged to borrow Senator Hoffman's new high-end Mercedes Brabus,