Shakeup
- Автор: Вудс Стюарт
- Серия: Stone Barrington #55
- Год: 2020
- Язык: английский
- Год: G. P. Putnam’s Sons
- ISBN: 978-0-593-18832-3
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Shakeup». Краткое содержание книги:
As it turns out, the mastermind behind the malfeasance rocking New York City and the nation’s capital wields a heavy hand of influence. And when Stone is unable to recruit those closest to the case to his side, he is left with few leads and a handful of dead-ends. But with the help of important people in high places — and the expertise of alluring new friends — Stone is more than ready to rise to the occasion.
“Are you suggesting that accomplishing those tasks myself would be a better use of my time?”
“Perhaps,” Holly replied, “considering how you spend your time at work. You seem to have a more pronounced penchant for investigating the appointees of former President Katharine Lee than you did when Republicans held the office.”
“The FBI does not undertake investigations that are unfounded.”
“Perhaps the Bureau does not, but you certainly do. How long do you have left in your ten-year term, Mr. Shaker?”
“Nine months,” he muttered.
“Perhaps that time would be better spent securing your future in the private sector.”
“I had expected to be reappointed,” he said, haughtily.
“I assure you, sir, your expectations are unlikely to be met. Is there anything else on your mind? Unburden yourself.”
“I object most strongly to you assigning cases to my deputies rather than making your requests through me.”
“It’s only because I trust them more than I do you,” she replied.
This time, he affected to be shocked. “Have I done anything to deserve your distrust?”
“You’ve certainly done little to deserve my trust. In any case, it is a matter of historical record that you have little in the way of investigative experience on your record.”
“My experience is more on the administrative side,” he said.
“I’m sure your record is a triumph of administration,” Holly said, “but when I want something investigated, I tend to look to an investigator, not a shuffler of papers.”
“Yes, I saw one of your investigators at work last evening at dinner, in New York, with a man not her husband.”
“Deputy Director Gustav had business with Mr. Barrington and Commissioner Bacchetti, and she found a social setting more conducive to her work than an interrogation room. Incidentally, she is unmarried. I understand, however — from a source not related to the deputy director — that you spent the evening in a very public place with a woman not your wife.”
Shaker actually shook. “The lady you refer to,” he said, “is a friend of my wife.”
“And you somehow think that sounds better?”
“Are you implying...”
“Implying? I am stating a fact, something you are ill-acquainted with.”
Shaker stood, still trembling. “Have you anything else to say to me?”
“Well, it’s your meeting, but as long as you ask, I do. You are to return to your office, and henceforth, remain there, conducting no business more boisterous than giving tours of the building to troops of Boy Scouts, and issuing no orders to any employee of the Bureau, beyond your secretary. If, at any time, you choose to retire and draw your pension, you may consider your resignation already accepted. Good day.”
John Henry Shaker remained, for just a moment, frozen, then gathered himself and marched out of the Oval.
Holly buzzed the head of her Secret Service detail.
“Yes, Madam President?”
“FBI Director John Henry Shaker is on his way out of the building. Please meet him at the door and collect his White House pass and his parking permit. Tell him it’s on my orders.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
34
Joan buzzed Stone. “The president for you, on line one.”
Stone pressed the button. “Good day, Madam President.”
“And to you,” she replied warmly. “I understand you had a pleasant last evening.”
Stone wondered which part of the evening she was referring to. “Yes, we all had a very good dinner.”
“And a very good nightcap, too, I hope.”
“Quite satisfactory,” he replied, getting a little more uncomfortable.
“Oh, Stone,” she said, “you must get over being almost as famous as I, since People published those photographs of us waltzing. I get reports.”
“I’d like to think I’m over that.”
“And did you find Maren Gustav good company?”
“Define ‘good company.’”
“I don’t need to do that, and you mustn’t mind if I send you pleasing companionship now and then.”
“I’ll try to be more grateful,” he said. “But I’m beginning to feel that you are rendering me an unnecessary service.”
“Perhaps so. Nevertheless, it gives me pleasure to provide it, and eases my guilt about being here instead of there.”
“Then we’ll say no more about it.”
“If you wish. By the way, you might ingratiate yourself even further if you whispered into her shell-like ear that she’s very likely to be the next director.”
“Is Shaker taking a hike?”
“Let’s just say that I have pointed him toward the Appalachian Trail and kicked him in the ass. My guess is, his ego will require him to head that way. You’ll see it in the papers when it happens. In the meantime, I have denied him the White House, and I’m thinking of ordering a major renovation of his office. I think a lot of chintz would look nice in the Hoover building.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing about that. How are you holding up down there?”
“Well, the conversation with Shaker lifted my spirits a bit, as did a visit to the Oval this morning from the choir of a Catholic girls’ school.”
“Next, no doubt, it will be the cast of Hamilton!”
“What a good idea! I could never afford the tickets on a mere president’s salary.”
“Next time you’re in town, I know where to get seats for only the price of a small house.”
“Oh, good. Uh-oh, I’m told the secretary of defense is waiting. We’ll talk soon.” She hung up.
Stone worked on for a few minutes, when there was a knock at the other door.
“Come in,” he said.
Maren looked around the door. “Am I disturbing you?”
“More than you know,” Stone said.
She came over to his desk. “Is it legal to kiss you in these surrounds?”
“Strictly speaking, yes, but Joan has very sensitive antennae and tends to walk in at such times. Bob, over there,” he said, nodding toward the sleeping dog, “wouldn’t mind a bit.”
“I’ll try to control myself. I’m off to speak with Arthur Jacoby and Donald Clark.”
“Dinner tonight?”
“Oh, good, where?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Well, I’d better repair to the Carlyle and exchange these clothes for others,” she said. “Or someone might notice.”
“Joan certainly would, and I’d never hear the end of it.”
“After dinner, your place or mine? I need to select the appropriate wardrobe.”
“Appropriate would be nothing at all, and I think we should come here. The director of the FBI might be noticed coming and going with a man at the Carlyle.”
“That’s deputy director,” she said.
“Perhaps for the moment.”
She perked up. “Have you heard something?”
“The breeze bears rumors,” he replied. “I hear Shaker is being encouraged to vacate that space.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
“Here at six-thirty?”
“Done,” she said, and closed the door behind her.
Joan buzzed him. “That Donald Clark character is here again.”
Stone ground his teeth for a moment. “Send him in, and disturb us after about three minutes.”
Donald Clark strode into Stone’s office, looking more athletic and self-confident than on his last visit. “Good morning, Stone!” he boomed, taking a seat, uninvited.
“Now what, Donald?” Stone asked, with no attempt to conceal his displeasure at the visit.
“I’ve been cleared of anything to do with the murder of Ms. Carlyle,” he said.
“Oh, really? Did the DCPD post a notice?”