Shelley's Heart by Charles McCarry

Author:Charles McCarry [MCCARRY, CHARLES]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: FIC006000/FIC031000/FIC037000
ISBN: 9781468300345
Publisher: Overlook
Published: 2011-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

8

From hints and rumors and the law of Washington probabilities, and because Attenborough’s encounter with Slim had caused him to think in new ways about the Speaker’s habits and methods, Ross Macalaster had cobbled together a column for the Wednesday editions predicting that Attenborough would attempt to bring the question of impeachment before the full House of Representatives, bypassing the Judiciary Committee and circumventing the news media in a scheme designed to contain the damage to his party that would otherwise result from weeks of saturation coverage of committee hearings. Macalaster’s editors scoffed at this idea. How could any such maneuver be possible if they had not heard about it? But they published the article anyway.

Attenborough—who was, like most Washington figures, as keenly attuned to the op-ed pages of the Post, Times, and Wall Street Journal as were the wildebeest to ominous movements in the grasses of the African savannah—called him about his piece as soon as the first editions were delivered, just after dawn. Macalaster had not heard from him since he took him home from the emergency room three days before.

“I’m not confirming or denying a damn thing, Ross,” Attenborough said. “But did I mention something about this at your house or maybe in the car the other night?”

In the background of Attenborough’s call Macalaster could hear what sounded like running water, and he wondered if the Speaker was calling from his bathroom. He replied, “No, Mr. Speaker, not a word. It’s just a think piece, all guesswork and rumors.”

“Always said you were a smart son of a gun. No point in asking you which rumors, I suppose?”

Macalaster replied, “All I can tell you is that you yourself are completely innocent.”

“Glad to know that. But there’s got to be a guilty son of a bitch somewhere.” High officials of the government, from the President on down, were always trying to catch the leakers in their entourage, for the loose tongues of underlings were the curse of power. Few succeeded in unmasking the guilty, who were assiduously protected by journalists for the sake of the treacheries they might commit in the future. “Well, the hell with it, it’s all in a day’s work,” Attenborough said. He coughed spasmodically, then continued: “That was one hell of a party you gave the other night. Interesting bunch. Is our new Chief Justice an old friend of yours?”

The question interested Macalaster. “I’ve known him for a long time,” he said cautiously.

“Fellow Yalies?”

“I didn’t go to Yale. Why?”

“Just wondered. He’s a walking Old Blue alumni reunion and storefront lawyer to the world terrorist movement rolled up in one. I don’t think we’ve ever had a Chief Justice who was a whole hell of a lot like Mr. Hammett.”

“I don’t think so, either, Mr. Speaker.”

“You don’t? That’s mighty interesting … and Ross?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thanks for being a good Samaritan when I hurt my hand the other night. You and that good-looking girl of yours went way above and beyond the call of duty to get me patched up like you did, and I won’t forget it.

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