anything like that,” Talbot said. “Never have. Never would.”
There was silence in the room.
Director Sanford ended it by saying, “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but you must know that’s not true.”
The president raised his head and glared at Sanford. “How dare you tell me what I support and don’t.”
Carstensen said, “The Senate bill that would have allowed digital gambling as a means to collect tax revenues and so decrease the national debt. You’re familiar with it, aren’t you, Mr. President? You’re listed as a co-sponsor.”
Talbot laughed. “Young lady, do you know how many cockamamie bills a senator will cosign in a career? Hell, half the time you don’t know what it is you’re supporting. You’re just doing a colleague a favor. Making him look good.”
Sanford said, “So you don’t support digital gambling, sir?”
“I just said that, didn’t I?” Talbot snapped. “Frankly, I think this is outrageous. You don’t honestly think I colluded with these two clowns on the autism spectrum to overthrow the government just so they could make billions, do you?”
CHAPTER
105
THERE WAS ANOTHER long, tense silence in the room, with everyone either looking at us or at Talbot.
I cleared my throat, said, “Well, sir. There’s also the presidency. The ultimate office. The dream of every senator. Even you, sir.”
“Bull turd,” Talbot sputtered. “I have never—” He laughed caustically and shook his head. “How in God’s name do you think this all happened? I mean, I became Senate president pro tempore by accident. My good friend and colleague Senator Jones—who was expected to recover just fine after his heart operation—died before he even got on the operating table. Explain that.”
Bree said, “Senator Walker was assassinated, sir, and if she hadn’t died, she’d have been in line to take Senator Jones’s place as Senate president pro tempore. Not you.”
His face reddened and tightened. “And who are you?”
“DC Metro chief of detectives Stone, sir,” Bree said. “I solved Senator Walker’s murder. And again, if Walker wasn’t dead, she would have been standing where you are now.”
“Exactly right, but so what?” Talbot said dismissively. “Arthur wasn’t killed. He just died. Things happen randomly.”
“They do sometimes,” I said. “But not in this case. Senator Jones did not just die. He was helped.”
Mahoney held up a photograph of Kristina Varjan in death. “We showed this picture to Senator Jones’s sister, who was in the room when he coded. We also showed it to the night nurse on the cardiac unit. Both women identified this assassin as the phlebotomist who was with the Senate president pro tempore shortly before his heart attack .”
I said, “Which put you behind Abraham Lincoln’s desk, sir. The most powerful man on earth. Capable of bestowing unfathomable wealth on a favored few.”
Talbot shook his head like a horse at biting flies. “This is not true. You will not find any tie between me and—”
The door to the Oval Office swung open. Samuel Larkin walked in.
“Larkin?” Talbot said, growing furious. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
“I’m here to place you under arrest for treason,” the former acting president and attorney general said, unruffled. “I’ve seen the interrogations of Stapleton, Crowley, and Bronson. They all say it was your idea, cooked up the day after President Grant died. You and Bronson and Crowley were eating at a restaurant in Reno and talked out the whole thing.”
“That’s not true!” Talbot said.
“There’s security footage of you all together.”
“It’s fabricated! Fake news!”
“You’ll get your day in court to prove that. A lot more than your victims got,” Larkin said, nodding to Secret Service agent Reamer. “Arrest him.”
Reamer smiled, said, “With pleasure, Mr. President.”
“What?” Talbot shouted, backing up. “They’re giving the presidency back to you, Larkin? This is illegal! This is a coup!”
“I’ll be taking over temporarily,” Larkin said. “By all accounts, Harold Murphy is going to live and make a full recovery, thank God. The secretary of defense is the rightful successor to the office and will take over as soon as he’s physically able.”
“No!” Talbot said when the Secret Service agent came around the desk. He stormed over to the French doors that led to the west colonnade of the White House, threw them open, and stepped outside. He looked ready to try to make his escape, but he froze when two Marine MPs walked up and blocked his path.
“Stand aside,” Talbot said. “I’m your commander in chief!”
“Not anymore, you’re not,” Agent Reamer said from behind him, and he roughly snapped the cuffs on the former leader of the free world.
CHAPTER
106
SIX DAYS LATER, six