Capitol Betrayal

Swinburne nodded sadly. “What else did he say?”

Sarie thought for a moment. “He was particularly overcome with tears when he started talking about parenting. He said he had been a horrible parent, a failure. He said if there were anything at all he could do over in life, it wouldn’t be with his wife, or his education, or politics. He wanted a second chance to be a better father.”

Like everyone else in the room, Ben knew the president had only one child, a daughter, Je

When Kyler had a

Ben could understand how the loss of his only child could hit the president hard. Anyone could. But the thought of him blubbering about it on the roof of the White House was not going to encourage anyone to keep him in office.

“He said he couldn’t stand to go it alone,” Sarie continued. “He needed the support of his wife, his offspring. Without them, he was nothing.” She paused, though she was clearly not finished. Her eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. Even though Ben was sure she didn’t mean it this way, he knew the break was having the effect of giving particular emphasis to whatever blockbuster was yet to come.

“Yes?” Swinburne said. “Please go on.”

Sarie licked her lips. “He said he didn’t think he could stand to go on living.”

There was an audible gasp in the bunker. Papers shuffled on the television screen. The secretary of education stood and got a drink of water. The president slid deeper into his chair.

A suicidal president? That was simply unacceptable. On any grounds. No one would care now whether he was crazy or not. A suicidal president had to go, by whatever pretext was possible.

“How did you respond?”

“Of course I tried to bolster his spirits. I told him that he was wrong, that he was a great president, that he had done everything he could for Je

“What else did he say?”

“He just went on and on in that vein, for probably almost half an hour. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get the Secret Service-I didn’t want anyone to see him like this. So I waited it out.”

“And he was still talking?”

“Yes. Eventually he wrapped his hands around his knees and began to rock back and forth-” She cut herself short. “He said he was going to kill himself, just get it over with. Just jump off the roof and be done. Over. I tried to get him to think about what impact that would have on his wife, his child. ‘They’ll never miss me,’ he insisted. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘maybe they will at first, for a week or two. But they’ll get over it. They’ll move on. And they’ll be much better for being rid of me.’”

The other people in the room were shifting in their seats, wishing there were someplace they could go. This would be uncomfortable to hear in the best of circumstances, but when the president was sitting right there, only a few feet from all of them, it was awkward in the extreme.

“Did he talk about how he might do it?”

“Yes.” Another deep breath. “He realized in time that jumping off the roof might not be fatal, though it was sure to bring great pain. He talked about getting a knife from the kitchen and doing himself in hara-kiri style. He talked about grabbing a Secret Service agent’s gun and shooting himself through the head. Then-then-”

She choked. Ben realized it must be incredibly difficult for her to do this. She wasn’t presently married. As far as anyone knew, the primary man in her life was Roland Kyler. And now she was effectively betraying him, in what was perhaps his moment of greatest need.

“Then,” she continued, with great difficulty, “he talked about doing it at a press conference.”

The secretary of education gasped.

“He said he’d smuggle a gun in when no one was looking, and once the cameras were rolling he’d blow his head off in living color. That would show the bastards, he said. That would show Colonel Zuko and all the other people who were co

Ruiz threw down his pencil and turned away. Rybicki covered his face. No one looked the president in the eye. The murmuring and whispering in the tiny bunker was so intense Admiral Cartwright had to pound the table several times. “There will be quiet in here! The witness is still testifying.”

“I’m really not,” Sarie said. “That’s all there is. That’s everything I’ve seen. Before today.”

“Let me ask you one more question before you go,” Swinburne said. “And let me thank you for your honest testimony. I know it wasn’t easy for you and I appreciate it. But my question is this: when you witnessed this spectacle on the roof of the White House, did the president seem… sane?”

“Objection,” Ben said. “She’s not qualified.”

Cartwright waved him down. “She sees the man virtually every day. She may be the best observer we’ve got of his daily condition. I’m going to allow her to answer the question.”

“But she’s not a-”

“I’ve ruled, Mr. Kincaid. Sit down.”

Ben unhappily returned to his chair.

Sarie shook her head. “I don’t know if I would call him insane. He didn’t seem himself. I will say that. He didn’t seem like the Roland Kyler I know. It’s was as if somehow he had been changed. Altered.”

“Incapable?”

“I’m not a psychiatrist.”

“I’m not asking for a medical diagnosis. But you can give us your own opinion, based upon what you saw and heard. I’m sure the judge will allow it.”

Sarie continued shaking her head, searching for the words. “I just don’t know what was wrong with him that night, or in the pool, or before the Easter egg roll. I don’t know what brings on these… episodes. But I know they’re real. And I know they’re scary.”

“But Ms. Morrell, did he seem stable? When he was threatening to kill himself? In graphic and bloody ways?”

Her head hung low. “No,” she said quietly. “I suppose not.”

“Thank you,” Swinburne said. “Your witness, Mr. Kincaid.”