The Chosen One Read online

  ‘Well, one night we were in a hotel together, asleep in each other’s arms. In the early hours, I suddenly woke up to see smoke seeping under the door of our room. I could feel the heat and I could smell the flames. It was a terrible, terrifying smell that I have never forgotten. I shook Pamela – but I did not stay long enough to see if she was fully awake. In the panic of that moment, I rushed out and saved myself. And though I told the firefighters she was there, I did not go back to save her. In the end, it was too late and Pamela Everett died that night.

  ‘What happened was the mistake of a frightened young man and not a day goes by when I do not think of it. I should have been honest about this terrible truth a long, long time ago – but I never said a word about it. Not even to those closest to me.

  ‘I’m telling you this now not because I’m seeking your forgiveness. What I did was so wrong, I don’t think I deserve that – not for a long time. I’m telling you because I have discovered that a handful of men – men who hide in the shadows, trying to influence the fate of our republic without ever exposing themselves to the daylight – have known about that grave mistake of mine for many years. And now they are using it to blackmail me.’

  Maggie gasped with disbelief. They hadn’t discussed this.

  ‘They want me to abandon a key part of my programme – a programme you, the American people, voted for in your tens of millions last fall – in return for their silence. They believed that faced with that choice, I would save my own hide rather than do what’s right for this country I love.

  ‘Well, these men – who spend their lives calculating profit and loss, nickels and dimes – do not understand that you cannot put a price on the workings of the human heart or the human conscience. They calculated wrong. I know I did a dreadful thing and I intend to pay for my actions. That is why I shall resign the presidency effective at noon tomorrow. Vice President Williams will be sworn in as President at that hour in this office.

  ‘I know you will show him the kindness and grace you showed me. And I hope that good fortune – true good fortune – shines upon him.

  ‘May God bless his presidency. May God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America – and the precious, fragile world we all share.’

  65

  Washington, DC, Tuesday March 28, 11.07

  Maggie sat, her palms flat against both sides of her face, shaking her head over and over. She wanted the correspondent gabbing on the TV to shut up, but she couldn’t move. She was frozen, not so much by shock as disappointment. In truth, it was more than that: it was a feeling she had had at the hands of two other men over the course of her life. It was heartbreak.

  So that explained the assignment Baker had given her. He had asked her to draft a short summary of Bradford Williams’s career, as personal as she could make it: ‘triumphs and tragedies’, he had said. Exhausted, she had asked Uri to do it for her, to apply to Williams’s life the same laser focus he had brought to bear on Baker during the research for his film. Knowing how close to collapse Maggie was, he had worked on it all night.

  She had feared this was the reason Baker had asked for such a paper; of course she had. But that made it no less awful to hear out loud. He had resigned. He had sacrificed everything he had worked for his entire life.

  And then, a guiltier thought. Baker had defied AitkenBruce – and that meant she would pay. She and those she loved.

  Twenty minutes later the phone rang. A female voice, level and calm: ‘Please hold for the President.’

  There was a click, then another and then: ‘Maggie, I’m sorry.’

  ‘So am I, Mr President. And there are lots of people who feel the way I do right now, all over the world. Was there no other way?’

  ‘I thought about it, Maggie, I really did. I talked about it with Kim. But I couldn’t see it. Remember, no one is indispensable, Maggie. Not even me.’

  ‘But what about everything we believed in? Everything we worked for?’

  ‘Williams believes in all that, too. Truly he does. He’s a good man, Maggie. The work will go on.’ There was a pause. ‘He and I are already collaborating on the first order of business.’

  ‘What’s that, sir?’

  ‘A file detailing the evidence that links AitkenBruce and the other banks to the deaths of Forbes, Stuart and Nick du Caines – and maybe many other deaths too. Lawyers at the Department of Justice and the FBI are already on the case. They’re talking to Interpol.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that, sir.’ Panic was flooding through her: she fought it down. Mastering herself, she let the silence linger and then asked, ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘I don’t know, Maggie. I need to think a while. But I do have one immediate plan.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m going to fly straight from here tomorrow to Idaho and see Anne Everett. Apologize to her in person. The first of many conversations, I suspect.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve also been thinking about you, Maggie. How to protect you. We need to give you what Forbes gave himself.’

  ‘A blanket, sir.’

  ‘That’s right. A blanket.’

  ‘You should have one yourself.’

  ‘I’ll have the Secret Service looking after me and my family for the rest of our lives, Maggie. But I think I may have found a way for you to have some peace of mind.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘One of the advantages of being President is that I have access to the database of the National Security Agency. Ever since 9/11 they’ve had satellites watching all our airports in real time. “Eyes in the sky” they call them. Record everything. You just have to know where to look and you can magnify the image, hundreds of times over. They can zoom in on a baggage-handler having a smoke and tell you what paper he was reading.’

  ‘I don’t see how-’

  ‘It means, Maggie, we have footage from both Teterboro and Reagan National airports which clearly shows you being assaulted and then bundled into an aircraft registered with AitkenBruce on which Roger Waugh was the listed passenger. That footage will now be lodged with Agent Zoe Galfano and her colleagues in the Secret Service. If anything happens to you, Waugh personally – not just his bank – will be the prime suspect.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr President.’ She didn’t feel that she could voice her worry that that might not be enough. Hadn’t Waugh told her that he had only recently become the leader of his fellow bankers? Even if he was incapacitated surely there were others who would come after her. And Uri. And Liz – and Calum. She shuddered.

  ‘It’s me who needs to thank you, Maggie. For everything. I know you risked your life for me these last few days. You put yourself in harm’s way, facing men prepared to kill – and you did that for me. I will never forget that, Maggie. Just like I will never forget your passion, your devotion to those who have no other voice but yours. You are truly a remarkable woman, Maggie Costello. And I hope one day to find a way to repay you.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Mr President.’

  ‘I also need to thank you for something more immediate – that paper you sent over this morning. On Vice President Williams. Very helpful.’

  ‘Was it, sir?’

  ‘Oh, yes. It confirmed what I had suspected, which made me feel all the more comfortable handing over to him.’

  ‘And what had you suspected, Mr President?’

  ‘Well, you saw what kind of career he’s had, Maggie. Tried and failed to get into Congress three times. Was forty-two years old before he got elected to anything.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘No one smoothed Bradford Williams’s path, did they? He got there all by himself. It means nobody will have a hold over him. Except the voters, of course.’

  Maggie smiled. ‘I think you’re right, sir.’

  ‘And do you know why that is, Maggie? Because I have a theory.’

  ‘What’s that, sir?’

  ‘Our friends the bankers didn’t bet on Bradford Williams, did they? They didn’t spot his talen
t. And I suspect that was for one very simple reason. They never believed a black man could become President.’

  66

  Wire story from the Associated Press, posted on March 28, 11.45 EDT:

  Police in at least four cities across the globe have launched raids against the headquarters of some of the world’s biggest banks, in what appears to be internationally co-ordinated action triggered by outgoing President Stephen Baker’s stunning resignation announcement.

  The key target of the arrests is AitkenBruce bank, which posted $12bn in net profits last year. Its premises in London, New York, Frankfurt and Dubai were raided within minutes of each other, as international law enforcement officers immediately impounded computerized records, ordering what a spokesman called a ‘total lockdown’ so that crucial evidence could not be destroyed.

  Update posted at 12.01:

  Federal agents have arrested Roger Waugh, the Chairman and Chief Executive of AitkenBruce, at his $35m Long Island home. In front of waiting photographers, Mr Waugh was led out in handcuffs and leg-irons – a signal, according to an FBI source who spoke to the AP on condition of anonymity, that prosecutors plan to level ‘the gravest charges’ against the banking giant and its boss…

  67

  One week later

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!’

  Maggie watched closely to see which senators and congressmen were clamouring to shake the new President’s hand and which were withholding their affection. When Baker had done a televised address to a joint session of Congress, the Democrats had all been desperate to touch him, hoping some of his stardust might fall onto their shoulders. But the Republicans had held back.

  Now both sides were eager, applauding wildly, stretching to get within back-slapping distance of Bradford Williams as he waded through the thicket of people jamming the entrance to the chamber. Democrats were determined to use the occasion to shore up the new man; the Republicans, Maggie suspected, were keen to demonstrate their colour-blind comfort with an African-American as president.

  It took four minutes for all four hundred and thirty-five representatives and one hundred senators, along with the nine justices of the Supreme Court as well the Joint Chiefs of Staff, in their starched uniforms, to still their applause. When they did, Williams began.

  ‘My fellow Americans – all I have I would have given gladly not to be standing here today. The departure of Stephen Baker was a deep blow to our nation, one that seemed to shake the foundations of our entire system. It will take us a long time to recover. It won’t be easy. In fact, it will be hard. For me as well as for you. But together I believe we can do it.’

  Another round of applause. Maggie noticed that Williams’s forehead was already glistening.

  ‘It was a shock not only because this nation had put its trust in Stephen Baker and given him a mandate to govern just a few short months ago. It was a shock because of what we had discovered. That there had been a conspiracy to deny the American people their right to be a free and sovereign people, a conspiracy to hold to ransom the man this nation had chosen as its president. Tonight I am here to tell you and those behind that conspiracy, wherever they may be: this will not stand.’

  A thunderclap of applause. Maggie sat forward.

  ‘Tomorrow I shall put a bill before you that will regulate those banks who have not only grown too big to fail but too big – period. I plan to curb their reckless dicing and slicing of our money. No longer will our nation’s economy be used as a casino. It’s too important for that.’

  By now he was drowned out by waves of applause. But he rode right over them. ‘I plan to cap their pay, so that it reflects the real world the rest of us live in – so that those who work hard can get on, but those who lie, steal and cheat are no longer rewarded for their efforts.’

  Maggie watched all but a handful of diehards applauding. The politicians knew how such a populist message would be playing with their constituents back home: they’d be fried alive if they dared to disagree with what Williams had just said.

  He talked for a while about education and the environment, with a short passage on social security. He seemed to be getting into his stride. And then he turned to international affairs.

  ‘I cannot promise to be the same as my predecessor. We are different men. But Stephen Baker was full of great plans and some of those now fall to me. One in particular I want to mention tonight.

  ‘A slaughter has been underway for too long far away from here in Sudan, a terrible war against women and children and men who want only to live in peace. No, I’m not going to threaten to invade that or any other country we don’t like. Such heavy-handed interventions do not work. But nor am I going to suggest we stand by and do nothing.

  ‘Which is why tonight I am ordering the Department of Defense to prepare the despatch of three hundred of our best-equipped helicopters to the African Union. They will be the eyes watching over that troubled land. If the killing continues, those killers should tremble – because they will be watched.’

  Maggie shook her head in delighted incredulity. She had assumed that the Darfur plan she had discussed with Baker had been buried the instant he resigned. It was a pet project of his and hers; there were no votes in it. And yet he had clearly handed their plan to his successor. Baker must have told Williams it was a priority too, or it would never have been included in an occasion as important as this one. And then she remembered Baker’s parting words to her: I hope one day to find a way to repay you.

  68

  Washington, DC, three months later

  Maggie surveyed the crowd in the Dubliner bar, trying to work out who worked for whom, which group were Republicans and which were Democrats, who worked for the administration and who on the Hill. Within a minute she had given up. The men in their buttoned-down shirts, chinos and blue jackets, the women in their regulation Ann Taylor suits – they all looked the same. And not one of them would know a real Irish pub if they walked headlong into it.

  She knocked back the dregs of whisky in her glass and contemplated ordering another. Uri had texted to say he was running late, so there was no point in watching the door. But still she kept glancing up, hoping to see him come in. She pictured him, his skin warm after a day in the June sunshine. He would be in a good mood: the distributors had just told him his documentary – The Life, Times and Curiously Short Presidency of Stephen Baker – had been picked for the Toronto Film Festival.

  But still she could not help feeling a little on edge. Why had Uri suggested meeting here, rather than at the apartment? You only selected a neutral venue if you thought negotiations were going to be tense and complicated, she had learned that long ago. So what choppy waters did Uri want to negotiate?

  She raised the glass to her lips again, even though she knew there was nothing left in it. It was true that the last few weeks had not been great. After those lunatic final days of March, they had decided to get away, to go on holiday together. They plumped for the volcanic, Aegean islands of Santorini.

  Some absurd cloak-and-dagger arrangements had followed, ensuring that their destination remained secret. At the insistence of Zoe Galfano, the Secret Service agent tasked with what was officially called ‘after-care’, the US consul in the region had been notified and a ‘discreet’ security presence arranged. When Maggie had objected, protesting that Roger Waugh and his pals were now behind bars, Zoe had shaken her head and said plainly that former President Baker had been adamant: Maggie Costello had earned the protection of the US Government.

  She would like to be able to blame the guards for what followed, but it was hardly their fault. They had indeed been discreet: close enough to deter anyone planning mischief, distant enough that no regular person would even spot that they were there. What happened was nothing to do with them.

  It had started off well enough, Maggie relishing the chance to catch up on sleep, food and…Uri. They would wake up late, she waving Uri off as he went for a run on the black san
d, and then they would eat an unhurried breakfast together. They would make slow, tentative love in the afternoon – slightly unsure of each other after their time apart – then walk and talk until sunset before eating late. She would look at Uri, still handsome enough to make other women turn their heads, whether he was splashing in the sea or dozing in the hammock, and marvel at her luck. After a few days of the quiet and peace, though, she had found herself itching to pick up the BlackBerry. At first Uri merely rolled his eyes.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘A special kind of nothing that requires a hand-held device.’

  ‘The New York Times is running a series on Williams’s first hundred days.’

  ‘And you want to read it. Even though you’re on vacation.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with you, Uri, so why should it bother you?’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me. I just don’t know why you can’t lie on a beach and relax like a normal person.’

  ‘I don’t like being in the sun, that’s why. I’m Irish. I burn.’

  ‘But you’re in the shade.’

  ‘That’s so I won’t burn.’

  Those clouds would pass eventually, but as the week wore on they came more often.

  ‘What about a swim?’ Uri might suggest.

  ‘I’ve already had one.’

  ‘But that was yesterday.’

  ‘I think you’ll find it was today.’

  ‘It was definitely yesterday.’

  ‘I’m amazed you can tell: one day is the same as the bloody next.’

  ‘We’ve only been here five days, Maggie! Why don’t you read?’

  ‘I don’t want to read. I don’t want to swim. I don’t want to jog and I don’t want to get sunburn. I want to do something.’

  She smiled about it now, recalling that Liz had always said her definition of hell would be a two-week holiday alone with her sister. She had been impossible, no doubt about it. Irritable, scratchy and bored.