Oath of Office (35 page)

“Who are you?” Kim asked.

“My name is Shank, Norman Shank,” he said. “I am a friend of Mr. Edwin Chester, and also his attorney.”

No business card. Kim doubted she would find a Norman Shank in any listing of area lawyers.

“Go on,” she said.

“My instructions were to contact you precisely in the manner I am doing. Regrettably, I am afraid that something terrible has befallen Edwin.”

“Edwin?”

“Edwin Chester, the son of William Chester of Chester Enterprises.”

“The seed giant?”

“Yes,” Shank said. “He is also the man you know as Double M.”

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” Kim asked, glancing around for anyone who seemed interested in them.

“According to my understanding, everything that Edwin has to say is contained in here.” Shank handed over a large sealed manila envelope. “You see, for some time now, Edwin has instructed me to phone him every day at three o’clock in the afternoon, sharp. If he failed to answer my phone call, I was to send him a text message. Difficult thing, teaching an old man like me how to text. In any event, if Edwin failed to respond to my text within an hour, I was to assume that he was either dead or incapacitated. In that event, I was to contact you via Doug, here at Bar None, and hand-deliver this envelope.”

“Double M is dead?” Kim asked, struggling to remain composed.

The lawyer smiled sadly. “The likelihood is that the most dire misfortune has, in fact, befallen him. Once I have done as he requested here, I will set about to learn what has happened, but we must think the worst.”

Kim clutched the envelope. “Thank you.”

Her thoughts swirled through the implications of Double M’s death—either murder or suicide, it seemed.

Shank bowed his head slightly. “I must be going now. Please do not try to contact me. Those are Edwin’s wishes. If I learn anything you need to know, I will get back to you.” He turned and shambled from the restaurant.

Kim, never losing contact with the envelope, drank half her Amstel in two gulps and again scanned the patrons for anyone paying too much attention to her. The game had changed to serious hardball. Fifteen minutes later, she was considering another beer when her cell phone rang.

“I’m parked right outside,” Darlene said.

CHAPTER 48

Kim paid her tab, left a twenty under the coaster, and hurried to Darlene’s limo. She was surprised when another agent, not Victor, opened the door for her. Darlene instructed the man and the agent with him to get onto the Capital Beltway and drive until she asked them to return to the White House. As they pulled away, she requested that the privacy window behind the front seat be closed. Then she settled back next to her friend.

“Where’s Victor?” Kim asked as soon as they were moving.

“I told him to take a few days off for his own good. Martin wants to fire him for taking us to Philadelphia.” Her hands were tightly clenched.

“Talk to me,” Kim said, gently loosening Darlene’s fists.

Darlene described her fight with Martin, the threats he made against Victor, and what he revealed about trading GMO corn seed and technology to the Chinese for American jobs.

Kim listened in stunned silence, the envelope from Double M resting on her lap. “Have you told Lou about all this?” she asked.

“No. I gave Martin my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I’m really PO’ed at him. The choice was between sharing with you what happened and broadcasting his pigheadedness on CNN. I guess I really shouldn’t have put you in the line of Martin’s fire by telling you.”

“Nonsense. I can handle it. I’m just sorry I can’t do anything about his deplorable behavior. So, what now?”

Darlene sighed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I need Martin to meet with Lou. That’s the only way he can possibly be convinced the corn isn’t safe. But that just isn’t going to happen. Lou has joined the ranks of Russ Evans—people I am forbidden to mention in Martin’s presence. I swear, Kim, I have never seen such change in a man.”

“You don’t have to explain, babe. I remember how he was the night we won. Floating right up there overhead with the red, white, and blue balloons. Alas, becoming the most powerful person on earth can cause some pretty heavy changes—like the bite of that radioactive spider did to Peter Parker. Darlene, you don’t have to answer this, but is there something going on between you and Lou?”

“Why would you even wonder about such a thing?” she replied, not trying too hard to suppress the glint in her eyes.

“I knew it. I swear, Dar, you have all the guile of a newborn.”

“I don’t even know what’s happening. Lou is the only man I’ve had these sort of feelings for since I met Martin.”

Kim squeezed her hand. “Have you kissed him?”

“No. No,” Darlene replied emphatically. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it, especially after that circus today with Martin.”

“Careful about doing anything when you’re angry. It’s someone’s rule.”

“I understand.”

“Whatever you do, I’m behind you all the way.”

The women hugged.

“So, tell me,” Darlene asked, “what’s going on with Double M?”

Kim handed over the envelope, having nearly forgotten it was there. “It’s bad,” she said. “Real bad.” She recounted the upsetting exchange with the man calling himself Norman Shank. “You should open it,” Kim said softly. “Read it to yourself, or if you want, feel free to read it out loud.”

The pages, several of them, were neatly single-spaced with a double space between paragraphs. As Darlene scanned the first few words, she covered her mouth in horror, then read aloud.

Dear Madam First Lady:

If you are reading this letter, then I am dead. My name is Edwin Chester, and I am the son of William Chester, Chairman and CEO of the Chester Seed Company. This letter is a confession of sorts. It does, in my death, what I could not bring myself to do while I was alive—finally to tell the truth about my father’s lies and misdeeds.

Darlene gasped. “Lou was right,” she whispered before continuing.

I apologize for all the subterfuge. My reasons for not being more forthcoming were the direct result of my steadfast, unyielding love for William Chester. You can research his most remarkable life, but accounts will paint a very incomplete picture of the caring, loving man whom I have been blessed to call my father. I write this even though I believe he will be found at least partially responsible for my death.

I was born with severe club-foot deformities and was the source of much ridicule even as a young child. My father refused to accept my condition. He took me to the best surgeons in the world and sat beside me for many hours and many procedures as they reshaped my bones. He also pushed me to rise to my potential.

Darlene stopped reading. “I can’t believe he’s dead,” she said, shaking. “And I’m terrified that Martin is somehow involved.”

“Please keep reading,” Kim urged.

Darlene continued.

My father was nurturing. He was also quite forceful in his beliefs and ways. Most important, he was a constant presence in my very chaotic and inconsistent world. When my mother and sister passed away, it was my father who stepped in, fulfilling the role of parent to such a degree as to earn my unyielding devotion.

He was the first to see my potential as a scientist, and encouraged me to study plant genetics, and to continue through to my Ph.D. William Chester is a true visionary. He foresaw the looming food crisis long before it was even a whisper in the halls of the Department of Agriculture. He saw that the corn yield was the lock keeping us from achieving global food security, and he knew that rDNA would be the key.

“What’s rDNA?” Kim asked.

“It says right here,” Darlene said.

Recombinant DNA opens the door for the creating of limitless new species, each designed for a specific function, and all created from transplanting the genes from one organism into the genetic makeup of another. Corn is the single most important crop in the global food economy. It is fed to cattle, which in turn provides us with beef. Corn is a key ingredient in almost all processed foods, and a mainstay in most diets. Without a sufficient supply of corn, it can be argued, a country would fail to provide their citizens with the resources necessary for them to live without hunger or fear of starvation. In the global agricultural economy, corn is the king, queen, and most of the court.

To meet the growing demand, our competitors have tried various hybridization techniques, averaging a yield increase of roughly 2 percent per year. But genetic engineering has changed the game dramatically. Yields have been increasing, up to an average of 150 bushels per acre.

However, that is not nearly enough. As a result of the looming corn shortage, in the coming years, Americans will need to decrease their consumption of meat to under 12 pounds per year from an average of 250 pounds per person. Population growth; more industrialized countries; more meat-eating populations; higher demand for convenient processed foods; ethanol-based fuel; these are all factors contributing to a dramatic increase in corn demand. Meanwhile the supply side is under increasing pressure.

Single-handedly, I have developed a solution to this pending crisis. Three hundred bushels per acre of corn is now possible with the technology I have created. However, this technology requires significant genetic manipulation, firstly with a radiation-induced mutation of the African termite species
Macrotermes bellicosus
, and secondly, using rDNA techniques to embed the mutated termite DNA into common corn. I stumbled onto this discovery when I became curious to see how one of the insect world’s most fecund creatures could be used to engineer corn genetically to have more kernels per ear and more ears per acre. This represents a dramatic shift from the current yield projection reported by our competitors, which requires engineering corn with built-in pest and pesticide resistance.

The technology I have created, in my opinion, calls for years of testing before it can be safely sanctioned for human consumption. Secretary of Agriculture Russell Evans shared my concerns about this new product. He believed that transgenic corn, that is to say corn created using the DNA of a non-corn species, technically is not corn. In a report filed by the DOA, and now apparently lost, Secretary Evans insisted on the formation of a study commission that would have kept our new corn product out of the food supply for a minimum of five years.

I am afraid that delay translated into too much lost profit and lost acclaim for my father to bear. For this reason, he had Secretary Evans removed from office. As you know, I tried to warn the president about my father’s wrongdoings without having to betray the man I love. Secretary Evans was right—the corn needs to be tested further, even though my father insists that intensive human use of our corn, and products derived from our corn, has already disclosed no adverse health effects. But my father is wrong, and Dr. Lou Welcome is right. This corn is not safe.

There is a train being loaded with our GMO corn for shipment by air and sea to cargo planes and tankers bound for China. I believe there are other trains being readied as well. I am sorry now that I did not do more to stop these shipments.

Please understand, that I did what I thought was best. But now it is up to you and President Mallory to do what is right. I am sorry I will not be there to help you.

Sincerely, Edwin Chester.

“My God,” Darlene whispered, dabbing at her tears. “The poor man.” She then extracted another piece of paper from inside the envelope.

“What’s that?” Kim asked.

“It’s the copy of the train manifest,” Darlene said. “The train carrying the corn shipment.” She folded the letter and manifest, then slipped them back inside the envelope.

“What now?” Kim asked.

“Now I call Victor.”

“Victor? Why not Martin?”

“If I’m going to speak to Martin again, I want Lou beside me, and Victor is going to help me with that. I told you that during our fight, I knew Martin was lying to me about something. Now, thanks to this letter, I know exactly what lie he was telling.”

CHAPTER 49

“You’re not making any sense,” Renee said, handing Lou a cup of the Darjeeling tea that was his favorite. “You’ve got to slow down and catch your breath. Can you get into the shower?”

She had cleaned off some of the filth and the worst of his scrapes and cuts, but a glance at himself in the mirror was still frightening. The gunshot wound to his leg burned, but he could tell no serious damage had been done. He took a long sip of tea. Gradually, his hands stopped shaking.

He was in the living room of Renee and Steve’s comfortable four-bedroom colonial in Arlington. Emily was in her upstairs room, ushered there by Renee, but only after Lou assured the girl he was okay and got her filthy with a prolonged bear hug. Lou suspected she was near the stairway, eavesdropping on their conversation, but neither parent had the time nor inclination to prevent it.

Renee … Emily … Steve … all of them had to leave town—and tonight.

“William Chester is a powerful, resourceful, vindictive man,” Lou said. “Now his son is dead and his whole operation is about to be exposed. He’s going to do anything he can to get back at me. Anything. Until we get the police involved and he gets put away, we’re all in danger. Believe it or not, today is the
second
time his people have tried to kill me. I need you to get away and find someplace safe until I can straighten all this out.”

Renee took a seat next to him on the sofa that was the only piece of furniture he recognized from their years together.

“This isn’t the first time they’ve tried to kill you?” she asked. “Why haven’t you told me?”

Lou filled her in on the events following John Meacham’s murderous spree.

Her eyes widened at his description of the
bellicosus
termites. “You actually saw a man get eaten alive?”

“Two of them, as a matter of fact. After that, two more guys tried to kill me. If you want proof, the Mercedes I was driving is parked outside absolutely riddled, with the front and rear windshields both blown out.”