LITMIR.BIZ

       3

      The Speaker had recently taken to walking at lunchtime in a futile attempt to prevent the heart attack that was certain to kill him. He had told DeMarco to meet him at the Taft Memorial at noon. DeMarco had arrived at twelve fifteen and it was now twelve thirty.

      At the Taft Memorial stands a ten-foot bronze statue of Senator Robert A. Taft and behind his statue is a carillon made from white Tennessee marble that rises one hundred feet into the air. The twenty-seven bells in the carillon were cast in Annecy, France, and the largest bell weighed seven tons. What Senator Taft had done to deserve such tribute had faded from memory – at least from DeMarco’s memory – but he was grateful that the memorial was located in a pleasant urban park close to the Capitol. It was a good place to wait for his boss.

      DeMarco took a seat on a wooden bench facing the memorial. He closed his eyes to nap and enjoy the sun on his face but he was soon denied this simple pleasure by two noisy squirrels. One animal was frantically chasing the other across the lawn, around bushes, up and down tree trunks. Whenever the chaser would finally corner the chasee, the trapped one would back up, feign desperation, then escape with a death-defying leap to a thin limb which seemed out of reach and incapable of bearing its weight. DeMarco didn’t know if the chase was a mating ritual or just plain fun, but there was no end to it. He wished one of the critters would miss when it jumped but the vivid image of a bushy-tailed little body, spread-eagle on the ground, a ribbon of blood oozing from its bucktoothed mouth made him change his mind.

      DeMarco was so busy fantasizing the demise of tree-dwelling rodents that he was startled when Mahoney sat down heavily on the park bench. He was even more startled by the sight of Mahoney in athletic togs: size XXX-large blue sweatshirt, blue sweatpants with white trim, and squeaky new Nikes the size of canoes.

      ‘I saw General Banks this morning,’ DeMarco said.

      ‘And?’ Mahoney said, still trying to catch his breath.

      ‘Well, sir,’ DeMarco said, ‘Banks wants me to investigate the recent assassination attempt on the President.’

      ‘You?’ Mahoney said.

      Mahoney’s reaction may have been appropriate but DeMarco was mildly offended.

      ‘Yes, sir. The General is concerned that a Secret Service agent may have had some part in the assassination attempt.’

      ‘Ah, that’s horseshit,’ Mahoney said and looked at his watch, bored already by Banks’s silliness. ‘And anyway, if he’s really worried he oughta be talkin’ to the Bureau.’

      ‘I agree and that’s what I told him,’ DeMarco said, ‘but the part I thought you might find interesting is that both Banks and Patrick Donnelly are withholding evidence from the FBI, and—’

      ‘Donnelly?’ the Speaker said, turning his magnificent head to look at DeMarco for the first time.

      ‘Yes,’ DeMarco said.

      ‘Donnelly,’ the Speaker said again, then he grinned, his teeth yellow and strong, and DeMarco was reminded of a large rumpled bear, one that has just spotted its lunch walking toward him.

      Oh God, DeMarco prayed, please don’t let this happen.

      ‘Tell me what Banks said, Joe,’ Mahoney said. ‘Don’t leave out a thing.’

      DeMarco did and when he finished Mahoney just sat there, a small smile on his lips, a contented look on his broad Irish face. In an attempt to head off the disaster he feared was coming, DeMarco said, ‘Sir, it’s pretty unlikely this agent’s guilty of anything – even Banks admits that – but in case he is, the right thing to do is to tell the Bureau. Or the press.’

      Mahoney nodded as if agreeing with DeMarco but there was a gleam in his eye. It was the gleam of a man who has sighted a sail on the horizon and knows that it’s his ship that’s coming in.

      DeMarco played his last card. ‘If the FBI catches me fooling around in this, it could lead back to you. You don’t want—’

      The Speaker rose slowly from the bench.

      ‘Help Banks out, Joe,’ he said. ‘Do whatever the man wants.’

      Mahoney patted DeMarco affectionately on the shoulder. As he walked away there was a spring in his step caused by more than his new tennis shoes. He was a few paces up the sidewalk when DeMarco heard him bark a laugh and say, ‘Donnelly. I fuckin’ love it.’