The Best Laid Plans

Through the walls of the office, he could hear the sound of traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue, outside the White House, and he became aware again of his surroundings. He reviewed everything that was happening, and he was satisfied that he was safe. Oliver Russell was going to be arrested for murders he hadn't committed, and Melvin Wicks, the vice president, would become president. Senator Davis would have no problem controlling Vice President Wicks. And there's nothing to link me to any of the deaths, Tager thought.



There was a prayer meeting that evening, and Peter Tager was looking forward to it. The group enjoyed hearing him talk about religion and power.



Peter Tager had become interested in girls when he was fourteen. God had given him an extraordinarily strong libido, and Peter had thought that the loss of his eye would make him unattractive to the opposite sex. Instead, girls found his eye patch intriguing. In addition, God had given Peter the gift of persuasion, and he was able to charm diffident young girls into the backseats of cars, into barns, and into beds. Unfortunately, he had gotten one of them pregnant and had been forced to marry her. She bore him two children. His family could have become an onerous burden, tying him down. But it turned out to be a marvelous cover for his extracurricular activities. He had seriously thought of going into the ministry, but then he had met Senator Todd Davis, and his life had changed. He had found a new and bigger forum. Politics.



In the beginning, there had been no problems with his secret relationships. Then a friend had given him a drug called Ecstasy, and Peter had shared it with Lisa Burnette, a fellow church member in Frankfort. Something had gone wrong, and she had died. They found her body in the Kentucky River.



The next unfortunate incident had occurred when Miriam Friedland, Oliver Russell's secretary, had had a bad reaction and lapsed into a coma. Not my fault, Peter Tager thought. It had not harmed him. Miriam had obviously been on too many other drugs.



Then, of course, there was poor Chloe Houston. He had run into her in a corridor of the White House where she was looking for a rest room.



She had recognized him instantly and was impressed. "You're Peter Tager! I see you on television all the time."



"Well, I'm delighted. Can I help you with something?"



"I was looking for a ladies' room." She was young and very pretty.



"There are no public rest rooms in the White House, miss."



"Oh, dear."



He said conspiratorially, "I think I can help you out. Come with me." He had led her upstairs to a private bathroom and waited outside for her. When she came out, he asked, "Are you just visiting Washington?"



"Yes."



"Why don't you let me show you the real Washington? Would you like that?" He could feel that she was attracted to him.



"I - I certainly would - if it isn't too much trouble."



"For someone as pretty as you? No trouble at all. We'll start with dinner tonight."



She smiled. "That sounds exciting."



"I promise you it will be. Now, you mustn't tell anyone we're meeting. It's our secret."



"I won't. I promise."



"I have a high-level meeting with the Russian government at the Monroe Arms Hotel tonight." He could see that she was impressed. "We can have dinner at the Imperial Suite there, afterward. Why don't you meet me there about seven o'clock?"



She looked at him and nodded excitedly. "All right."



He had explained to her what she had to do to get inside the suite. "There won't be any problem. Just call me to let me know you're there."



And she had.



In the beginning, Chloe Houston had been reluctant. When Peter took her in his arms, she said, "Don't. I - I'm a virgin."



That made him all the more excited. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do," he assured her. "We'll just sit and talk."



"Are you disappointed?"



He squeezed her hand. "Not at all, my dear."



He took out a bottle of liquid Ecstasy and poured some into two glasses.



"What is that?" Chloe asked.



"It's an energy booster. Cheers." He raised his glass in a toast and watched as she finished the liquid in her glass.



"It's good," Chloe said.



They had spent the next half hour talking, and Peter had waited as the drug began to work. Finally, he moved next to Chloe and put his arms around her, and this time there was no resistance.



"Get undressed," he said.



"Yes."



Peter's eyes followed her into the bathroom, and he began to undress. Chloe came out a few minutes later, naked, and he became excited at the sight of her young, nubile body. She was beautiful. Chloe got into bed beside him, and they made love. She was inexperienced, but the fact that she was a virgin gave Peter the extra excitement that he needed.



In the middle of a sentence, Chloe had sat up in bed, suddenly dizzy.



"Are you all right, my dear?"



"I - I'm fine. I just feel a little - " She held on to the side of the bed for a moment. "I'll be right back."



She got up. And as Peter watched, Chloe stumbled, fell, and smashed her head against the sharp corner of the iron table.



"Chloe!" He leaped out of bed and hurried to her side. "Chloe!"



He could feel no pulse. Oh, God, he thought. How could you do this to me? It wasn't my fault. She slipped.



He looked around. They mustn't trace me to this suite. He had quickly gotten dressed, gone into the bathroom, moistened a towel, and begun polishing the surfaces of every place he might have touched. He picked up Chloe's purse, looked around to make sure there were no signs that he had been there, and took the elevator down to the garage. The last thing he had done was to wipe his fingerprints off the elevator buttons. When Paul Yerby had surfaced as a threat, Tager had used his connections to dispose of him. There was no way anyone could connect Tager to Chloe's death.



And then the blackmail letter had come. Carl Gorman, the hotel clerk, had seen him. Peter had sent Sime to get rid of Gorman, telling him that it was to protect the president.



That should have been the end of the problem.



But Frank Lonergan had started asking questions, and it had been necessary to dispose of him, too. Now there was another nosy reporter to deal with.



So there were only two threats left: Marianne Gorman and Dana Evans.



And Sime was on his way to kill them both.