“What does Mr. Gorman get if he helps you?” Lang asked.

“Peace and quiet. No subpoenas, no grand jury, no time in a cold, damp cell while you run up your billable hours debating the First Amendment with an assistant United States attorney. What do you say?”

“I’d have to advise my client to refuse to cooperate in order to protect his source.”

Evans smiled at Gorman. “Why play games? I’m certain Dana Cutler gave you those photographs.” Gorman’s eyes shifted. “She was following Charlotte Walsh for Dale Perry, a lawyer who allegedly committed suicide a few days ago. We think someone attacked Cutler in her apartment on the evening she took the shots. The people who are after her don’t fool around. If you know anything that will help us find her, tell me. You don’t want her death on your conscience.”

“We met twice.”

“Pat-” Lang started, but Gorman held up his hand.

“They know already, Harvey, and I don’t want her hurt.”

“Amen to that,” Evans said.

“The first time we met she showed me some of the pictures. When I realized how big the story would be I agreed to her price.

“The next time we met I paid her for her story and the photographs. She told me she thought President Farrington was trying to kill her to get the pictures back. She hoped he’d stop once I published them.”

“Why did she think the president was behind the attempt on her life?”

“Two men were hiding in her apartment the night she took the pictures. They attacked her and demanded the photographs. She shot one of them and escaped. Only the president, Dale Perry, and his client knew about the pictures, and she couldn’t think of any reason why Perry or the client would try to kill her when they were expecting her to hand them over.

“When Miss Cutler learned that Charlotte Walsh had been murdered she met with Perry. She wanted him to negotiate a sale of the photographs to the president. She wanted money and assurances that she wouldn’t be killed. When she left the meeting with Perry there were men waiting for her but she got away.”

“Did she tell you the name of the person Perry was representing?”

“No. Perry never told her, and Cutler told me that she never discovered the identity of the client.”

“Where is Miss Cutler, Mr. Gorman?”

“I don’t know. She had no reason to tell me where she was going and I had no reason to ask.”

“Did we accomplish anything?” Sparks asked when they were back in their car.

“We’re filling in the blank spaces. Gorman confirmed that Cutler took the pictures of Walsh with Farrington and she told Gorman that the people who were in her apartment were after the pictures. The only people who would know about the existence of the pictures would be Perry and his client, who were expecting Cutler to give them to Perry, and the president. That’s pretty strong evidence that Farrington sent the people who attacked Cutler.”

“Cutler’s the key. We have to find her.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

When Charles Hawkins drove through the east gate of the White House, Travis “Jailbreak” Holliday was under a blanket, lying on the floor in the back of Hawkins’s car. This wasn’t easy. The Texas attorney was six four and weighed thirty pounds more than the 254 he’d packed on his big-boned frame when he’d starred at linebacker for the Longhorns.

Holliday had been given his nickname by a columnist for the Dallas Morning News, who had written a story claiming that hiring Holliday was like drawing a “Get Out of Jail Free” card in Monopoly. The columnist was upset that the defense attorney had just gained an acquittal for a wealthy rancher charged with killing his wife after branding her. Word was that Holliday’s closing argument was so confusing that a team at the Institute for Advanced Studies at Princeton was still trying to figure it out.

Earlier in the evening, the lawyer had flown his private jet to Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland, where Air Force One is housed. Hawkins had been waiting in a drab Chevrolet, a make not used by the White House staff or the Secret Service and so less likely to be noticed. The guards at the east gate had been warned about the unorthodox method Hawkins was going to use to get the criminal defense attorney to his meeting with the president, so getting by them was easy. It was the reporters camped outside the west gate who worried Hawkins. In some circles, hiring Travis “Jailbreak” Holliday was the equivalent of an admission of guilt. News that Holliday had entered the White House would generate more bad press than an actual indictment.

After the guards at the east gate waved him through, Hawkins rode along the horseshoe-shaped driveway until the Rose Garden and the Oval Office came into sight. He parked in back of the mansion and helped Holliday out of the car. Then he directed the lawyer through a door that stood between the Oval Office and the State Dining Room and up a flight of stairs to a study in the private residence, where Christopher Farrington was waiting.

Holliday had not worn his trademark string tie, Stetson hat, and snakeskin boots for the White House meeting. He’d chosen a plain business suit to avoid attracting any more attention than his height and bulk usually did.

“Mr. President,” Holliday said, “it’s an honor.”

Hawkins noted that “Jailbreak” had lost a lot of the Texas twang that dominated his courtroom speech.

“Thank you for coming,” Farrington said as he crossed the room. “I apologize for the dramatics.”

“Not a problem,” Holliday answered with a wide smile. “Made me feel like I was in a James Bond movie.”

“Well, I’m pleased I could add a little excitement to your life. Mine has certainly been an adventure for the past few days. In case you didn’t hear the news, Senator Preston, one of Maureen Gaylord’s toadies, is demanding the appointment of an independent counsel to look into my connection to the murder of that poor young woman. Of course, Maureen is pretending to stand above the fray, saying that no one should rush to judgment. But her tone implies I’m another Ted Bundy, and there’s enough innuendo in every word she speaks to fill an edition of that rag Exposed.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this, sir. Especially seeing as how you’re in the middle of an election and with everything else you have on your plate.”

“Thank you. Has Chuck gone over the business side of our relationship?”

“Yes, sir. The retainer was mighty generous, so let’s you and me forget about everything except how I’m going to help you out of the unfortunate situation in which you find yourself. And before we start talking, I’m going to ask Mr. Hawkins to leave us alone.”

He turned toward the president’s aide. “Anything the president tells me as my client is confidential, but he can lose the attorney-client privilege if a third party is sitting in on our conversation.”

“That’s not a problem,” Hawkins said. He started to leave but Farrington stopped him.

“I’m being a poor host,” the president said to Holliday. “You must be starving. Can I offer you something to eat?”

“A medium-rare steak, a side of fries, and a Johnnie Walker Black Label on the rocks would be mighty nice.”

“Chuck, ask the kitchen what they can do,” Farrington said.

“Can you tell me what I’m facing?” Farrington asked as soon as the door closed behind his friend.

“Well, sir, I did a little reading up on this independent counsel thing. It seems that until 1978, your predecessors appointed special prosecutors to look into scandals in their administrations. Grant started it in 1875 when he had General John B. Henderson investigate the so-called Whiskey Ring. Then you had Garfield, Teddy Roosevelt, Truman, and Nixon appointing special prosecutors. Trouble was if the president appointed the fellow, he could also unappoint him, like Nixon did when he fired Archibald Cox in the Saturday Night Massacre. So, in 1978, Congress passed the Ethics in Government Act and left the selection of the independent counsel up to the Special Division of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia, a panel of three circuit court judges created specially to handle independent counsel matters. This independent counsel is charged with investigating and prosecuting certain designated high-ranking executive branch officials, including you.