“Legion has been neutralized.”
The fact that her words got no reaction was a good sign. It suggested that the first lady was there to talk seriously instead of to feign ignorance or innocence.
“But not killed. Redirected toward a new target. One you’re familiar with.”
The woman’s throat moved as she swallowed.
“Your husband started a war that I suspect you advised him against. Now the tide has turned against him. Even with all your resources, you won’t find Mitch. And he’s confident that Legion will succeed.”
“What’s your interest in this, Irene?”
“As much as I despise everything you and your husband stand for, I don’t think his death will serve America or democracy. And, frankly, when I look at my friend’s life going forward, I don’t like what I see. He deserves better than to spend the next thirty years hiding in caves and watching the sky for drones. His country owes him better.”
“What do you propose?”
“That we find a way to reinstate the truce between the two foolish men in our lives.”
“A tall order, no?”
“I think it can be done. But first we’ll have to trust each other.”
“An even taller order.”
“In this narrow band, we have similar interests.”
Catherine shook her head slowly. “You’re wrong, Irene.”
“How so?”
“The band isn’t narrow. Look at what you’ve done to this country and the world. Look at what the weak presidents you admire have done. How much longer can we survive with a political class and media that benefits from hysteria? American democracy worked for a while but now it’s becoming chaos. And you want me to believe that the great Irene Kennedy can’t see it? If you think the American people are going to find their reason again, you’re deluding yourself. And self-delusion isn’t something women like us can afford.”
“We don’t have much time and I think we’re wandering a bit off topic. Our—”
“Come back to us, Irene.”
Kennedy wasn’t often caught off guard, but this was one of those times.
“We aren’t the destroyer of worlds,” Catherine continued. “We’re not Hitler or Stalin or Caesar, and we don’t aspire to be. But the American people have become a mob that’s tearing itself apart. For nothing. Entertainment. Boredom. Casual cruelty and momentary glimpses of what they think is power. Darren Hargrave is an idiot and a cretin. He can’t help us save this country. You can. Accept my offer and have a seat at the table.”
Kennedy leaned back in the leather seat. “Is that what you offered Mike?”
“Yes. And he was smart enough to take it. To put himself in a position to help you and shape policy going forward.”
Kennedy nodded thoughtfully. “And Mitch?”
“He has to go, and you know it. But you’ll be in the position to protect the others. Scott and his people. Claudia and Anna—”
“Have you ever thought about why?”
“Why what?” Catherine said.
“Why you’ve spent your life pursuing something that you don’t need? You’re wealthy. You’re powerful. You feel no sense of gratitude to the country that allowed you to succeed in the way you have. You’re completely insulated from the chaos you say you’re so concerned about. Why not just serve your time in the White House and leave like the others before you?”
“Why do you think, Irene?”
“I suspect it’s not complicated. The problem is that it’ll never be enough. In my experience, the more power people like you get, the more you crave. And what good is power unless you wield it in the most visceral way possible? You say you just want to bring order to the mess we’ve made, but you’ll get bored with that pretty quickly. Then you’ll want to grind your heel into people’s throats. To make them kneel.”
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Catherine said.
“Is it that? Or is it that the people who seek it are corrupt by nature?”
Catherine laughed. “Then take my offer, Irene. Be the angel on our shoulder. Use that incredible mind and your decades of experience to manage us. Manipulate us. Maybe even destroy us. What kind of patriot would you be if you sold out your country for one man?”
CHAPTER 47
DAAN VILJOEN GAME PARK
NEAR WINDHOEK
NAMIBIA
RAPP dodged an enormous web containing a softball-sized spider and began climbing a trail to his right. It felt good to be alone in the wilderness again. The crunch of his running shoes against the ground, the scolding beep of his heart rate monitor as he pushed himself too hard. Morning temperatures were holding just below eighty, but it wouldn’t last. At this point, speed was the better part of valor. The small handheld water bottles he’d selected would run dry pretty quickly in the full heat of the day.