Executive Privilege

Evans got the impression that the attorney and his client had debated Hawkins’s position many times before his arrival, with Bischoff losing the argument every time.

“You were right about everything,” Hawkins told Evans. “I killed Rhonda Pulaski, Tim Houston-”

“That’s the chauffeur who saw President Farrington having sex with Pulaski?”

Hawkins’s features tightened. When he spoke his tone was as cold as his eyes.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I’m guilty of many things, but disloyalty to Christopher Farrington is not one of them. He’s not responsible for my actions and I will not discuss him. If you insist on asking about the president of the United States this meeting will end.”

“Okay, I accept that. Go ahead.”

“I killed Mr. Houston. I also murdered Laurie Erickson and Charlotte Walsh.”

“Why did you kill Erickson?”

“She was going to make false accusations against the president. She demanded money. Even though the accusations were false his career would have been ruined.”

“How did you kill Erickson?”

“I left the papers for Chris’s speech in my office in the mansion on purpose to give me an excuse to return. She was very slender. I knocked her out, wrapped her in sheets, and sent her down the laundry chute. I bound and gagged her in the basement, smuggled her out the basement door, put her in the trunk of my car, and returned to the fund-raiser. I’d read the police reports of Clarence Little’s crimes. Later that night, I duplicated his modus operandi.”

“Was Laurie Erickson alive during the fund-raiser?”

Hawkins nodded, and the image of the terrified girl, bound and gagged in suffocating darkness, made it difficult for Evans to maintain his composure.

“What about Charlotte Walsh?”

“Cutler sent me a voice mail telling me where she’d parked. I disabled her car and waited until she came back to the lot. Then I knocked her out, bound and gagged her, put her in my trunk, and drove to the farm to meet with the president.”

“Was Walsh in your trunk while you were at the farm?”

Hawkins nodded.

“She was alive?”

Hawkins nodded again. “As soon as I could get away I killed her, duplicating the Ripper’s MO. Then I left her in the Dumpster.”

“Why did you have Dale Perry hire Cutler?”

“I didn’t trust Walsh. I knew what had happened with Pulaski and Erickson. Those girls were a threat to the president’s career. He’s a great man. The country needs him. I couldn’t let those whores bring him down.”

For the first time, Hawkins’s voice trembled with emotion. Evans might have some questions about Farrington’s involvement, but he had no doubt about the depth of Hawkins’s commitment to the president.

“If you already felt that Walsh was a threat, why did you need to have her followed?”

“I don’t think you need to know that.”

Evans could see that there were problems with Hawkins’s story, but he decided that he wouldn’t pressure Hawkins now. He’d let him talk himself out, put him behind bars, and hit him again when he’d had a nice taste of jail.

“Did Dale Perry commit suicide, did you kill him, or did you order Oscar Tierney or someone else to go after Cutler?”

“I don’t want to discuss Dale Perry’s death.”

“We’re going to cut Tierney a deal, so it won’t hurt him.”

“I may not have made myself clear, Agent Evans. I will tell you what I did but I will not implicate anyone else in a crime. I’m prepared to die for what I’ve done, but I won’t take anyone down with me. And don’t waste your time trying to persuade me to change my mind. I’m going to be executed, so there really isn’t anything you can use to threaten me.”

Evans saw nothing that convinced him that the president’s aide could be moved.

“Mr. Hawkins, based on what you’ve told me I’m going to place you under arrest on kidnapping charges for taking Charlotte Walsh across state lines. We’ll sort out all of the charges and the jurisdictional disputes later. Would you please stand and place your hands behind your back.”

Hawkins did as he was told, and Evans snapped on a pair of cuffs.

“Maggie,” Evans said into his cell phone, “I’m at Gary Bischoff ’s office. I need you and Gordon down here. Charles Hawkins has confessed to several murders.”

Evans paused while Sparks said something.

“I’ll go into it later. We need to book Hawkins, and I have to brief Justice Kineer. Can you get him back to headquarters for a meeting?”

Evans hung up and turned his attention back to the president’s aide.

“I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Hawkins, but I think your loyalty to the president is misplaced. Your loyalty shouldn’t be to the man but to the office and to the country Christopher Farrington swore to serve. If the president conspired with you to commit the crimes to which you’ve confessed he has betrayed his oath and he has betrayed the American people.”

Justice Kineer had deserted his congressional lunch companions in the middle of their meal after telling Maggie Sparks to have a war council assembled by the time he returned to the office. When Keith Evans, Gordon Buss, and Maggie Sparks returned from booking Hawkins into jail they found the conference room packed with lawyers and investigators waiting to hear what had happened.

“Give me your best shot about what’s going on here,” Kineer asked Evans when the agent finished his summary of his meeting with Hawkins and Bischoff.

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Hawkins is falling on his sword to protect the president.”

“Convicting Hawkins will be a hollow victory if Farrington is involved in the death of those girls and he skates. Can we do anything to prevent that from happening?” Kineer asked.

“Hawkins is the key,” Evans said. “I can’t think of anyone who can nail Farrington if Hawkins clams up, and believe me I’ve been thinking of nothing else since Hawkins told me he wouldn’t talk about Farrington.”

Kineer looked around the conference room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we all give this our undivided attention because our mission is to determine what involvement, if any, President Farrington has in these murders. If he’s i

After forty-five minutes of unproductive discussion Kineer shooed everyone but Evans out of the room.

“I notice you didn’t have much to add to our discussion,” the judge said.

“I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

“Is Farrington guilty, Keith?”

The excitement Keith had felt when Hawkins confessed had died away and the agent looked depressed.

“My gut tells me he is, but I don’t think we can touch him if Hawkins won’t talk.”

“Can he be made to talk?”

“It’s going to be tough. Hawkins is fanatically loyal. He’s idolized Farrington since his college days, and he feels that he owes him his life. He has no family. He has acquaintances but no friends except for the Farringtons. Everything in his life revolves around the president and it has for a long time. I think he’s going to say that he committed all of these crimes on his own. Everyone will believe him because he’ll come off looking like a crazed killer who deluded himself into believing that the murders were necessary.

“But say he changes his story and implicates Farrington. The president’s lawyer will crucify Hawkins by reading back all of the statements in which he exonerates Farrington. I think he’s got us, judge.”