The old man’s eyes glowed when the congressman entered his space. You shouldn’t be alive, thought Walsh. God only knows what they’re feeding you. Julia sat in the nurse’s chair. She smiled her cool smile.
‘Sit,’ he commanded, patting the bed.
The congressman sat.
‘Here is my plan. I call it the Domino Plan. It will work. It all starts with the destruction of the Vierte art collection.’
‘Everything?’
‘All of it. It must be revalued, at the highest values possible.’ He coughed then and Julia brought his glass of water to him. He sipped through a straw.
Down on 1st Avenue, Bellevue Hospital had the best accident and emergency department in Manhattan, so it was always busy, home to the broken and the beaten and the bewildered. And, today, half of New York’s media. The congressman’s daughter had a private room and seemed to be stable after her surgery. Fluids and antibiotics were flowing into her, pink and blue. Two nurses fussed over the sleeping form, monitoring the busy flat screen display that connected to her in a dozen different ways.
The tension surrounding the girl was marked by the number of guns in her vicinity.
The congressman put down his Ayn Rand book, paced in the corridor outside, his head buzzing with the plan that would destroy the old, corrupt United States of America and allow Vierte Corporation to take over the country. And other ideas took shape, congealed.
Two Homeland Security agents spoke with the surgeon who’d explored and then properly closed his daughter’s injuries. They were eager to talk to her but the sedation would keep her out of the loop for maybe twenty-four hours.
‘No exception,’ said the surgeon, a tall and thin African American. He worried that he wouldn’t be playing golf on Long Island that afternoon.
One of the agents held out a profile sheet. ‘There’s a chance that she was attacked by this man, an al-Qaeda operative. There has been chatter about a plot targeting New York politicians. And there are other events on our radar. We need her to see this picture.’
The photo, titled Most Wanted, was a blurry image of a bearded man in Yemeni tribal dress.
They all look the same to me, thought the surgeon.
‘I’m sorry, gentlemen. I need her to be utterly still for at least another twelve hours for the stitches to hold. She’s in an induced coma, just an inch from death. This is a critical time.’
The agents were clearly disappointed. The girl’s clothes were being analysed for all DNA traces and the scene of crime was under Federal control now. But they needed an ID.
‘We’ll wait.’
The agent with the profile sheet nodded to his companion, who went out to the congressman.
‘Mr Speaker? Sir?’
God, these guys are insufferable. And I can’t just tell him to take a hike. Did he have to cut her up so severely?
‘Yes? My god! Is she awake?’ he said, glancing over the agent’s shoulder to his daughter, his poor, poor baby.
‘No sir. It could be twelve hours before we can talk to her. She’s in good hands, don’t worry.’
‘I just feel so bad about this,’ said the congressman, with a grain of truth.
He looked ragged, suit creased, red wine splashed across his white shirt, stubble. Twenty-four hours in the hospital now, no food since the restaurant. A deliberate tactic.
The machines beeped and the nurses fussed and the other agent just stood and stared. The congressman's mind processed quickly. He imagined a phone call to the White House, and the President and Vice President attending the art feast. He saw the feast being held in the banqueting suite on top of Vierte’s Wall Street trading office. Raise security issues, move the most valuable works from Central Park.
So the nuclear reactor melts down.
So all the obstacles are removed, and all the incriminating stuff is erased, in one beautiful mushroom cloud.
Then I’m free.
Forget about your dominos, Doctor, I will kill the President, destroy Wall Street and become the King of Everything in one tragic night. But first, you will have to die.
‘Sir, would you like to go get a coffee? I’d like to clarify a couple of issues.’
Oh Christ. Not now.
‘Fine. I think they’ve got a Starbuck’s downstairs.’
‘Yes sir. I’ll lead the way.’
They left the ICU and walked along a bright, yellow corridor towards the public waiting area. Then the congressman spotted the TV cameras and collapsed heavily in a crumpled heap.