What had he and Rapp discussed? What had been conserved and what had been negotiated away? But most of all, had they been able to create a framework of assurances that could lead to a lasting détente?
If so, her husband would return to the world and almost certainly walk away with the next election. After that, she would follow for another two terms. At the end of that sixteen-year reign, they would have an unbreakable grip on the country. Everything they’d dreamed of, everything they’d worked for, would fall into place.
If, on the other hand, Rapp was simply trying to lure her husband out from behind his security, the calculus changed. While the White House would be well within her reach, the time and skills required to take permanent control would be lacking. Not quite the prize she’d sought, but a very attractive consolation.
Catherine recognized that she should feel more deeply about her husband’s predicament, but it wasn’t her nature. Particularly when the wounds in question were entirely self-inflicted. The truth was that he appealed to the fools who worshipped him because, in many ways, he was one of them.
Finally, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. He was sitting at a small table with a lunch tray in front of him. It was untouched, and instead he was focused on the glass of whiskey in his hand. The image was enough to make sweat break across her forehead.
“Your meeting went well?” she said, managing to conjure a little optimism.
No answer. Instead, he continued to stare into the glass with an expression that was a subtle mix of rage, fear, and impotence.
“Tony? What happened?”
He turned slowly in her direction but seemed to look through her. “Rapp told me that if I resigned, he’d call off Legion and back away.”
“What?” she said, confused. That wasn’t what she and Kennedy had spoken about. Catherine stood frozen. Or had they? What exactly was said in their short time together? Only that the truce needed to be rebuilt. Not its terms.
“Where is he, Tony? Where is he now?”
Cook shrugged.
“You let him go?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, returning his attention to the glass. “If I held him or killed him, it wouldn’t stop Legion. It wouldn’t stop Kennedy or his men. They’d just keep coming until I’m dead.”
“You’re in the most secure place on the planet!” she shouted. “And it gets more secure every day. If we’d held him, at the very least we could use him to complicate the situation. To split their focus.”
“If you believe all that, why don’t you go after him, Cathy? Call him up. Tell him I’ve backed off but you’re not going to. Put your life on the line.”
“Why, Tony? Why would I do that? This is your mess, not mine. You let Darren get you into a war that you didn’t know how to win. You. Not me.”
He took a long pull on his whiskey, swirling it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “I’ll concede the point, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to die so you can build a campaign around my corpse.”
“He’s playing you,” she said, though she didn’t really believe it. “He’s trying to get you out from behind your security.”
Her husband saw through the sudden change in attitude. In truth, it had sounded desperate, even to her. He was the seductive liar in this partnership, not her.
“He gave me his word, Cathy. Aren’t you the one who keeps telling me he can be trusted to keep it?”
She’d always considered it a rather banal cliché, but suddenly the walls really did feel like they were closing in on her. They’d devoted everything to this. Every decision, every friendship, every conversation. Their lives didn’t exist beyond the momentum they’d built to get them there. It couldn’t end like this. Not because of a meaningless former CIA operative.
Her mind began sifting options. A resignation was fatal. Of that, there was no doubt. Once someone walked away from power, there was no getting it back. A divorce? Could she turn him into the enemy and run against his legacy? Impossible. She didn’t have that kind of support in the party nor the gifts necessary to acquire it. Could she get to Rapp? To Legion? No. Even if it was possible, her husband wouldn’t allow it. The office of the first lady was powerless without his support.
She realized that he was staring directly at her, interpreting the emotions unconsciously playing across her face. When he raised his glass again, the rattle of the ice cubes seemed almost deafening.
“Checkmate, Catherine.”