The Long Game
Page 76
“While I was abroad, I was approached by someone. A mentor. He thought that I might be interested in a life of service.” Dr. Clark paused. “He was right.”
“Service,” I repeated dully. “You call this service?”
“Our organization was designed to infiltrate terrorist groups. We influence their decisions. We stop them from the inside out. We play their game better than they do.”
I was on the verge of asking her how, precisely, the Hardwicke School qualified as a terrorist group. But I decided it wasn’t worth the words.
“To do what we do,” Dr. Clark said, leaning forward and trying to take my hand, “we need eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Eyes and ears?” I jerked my hand back. “I’m bound to a chair, I saw you shoot a man dead, and you want me to believe that you just observe?” She believed what she was telling me. She expected me to believe it, too. “You people bombed a hospital!”
“And no one was hurt in that bombing,” Dr. Clark said fiercely. “You think that was an accident? A mistake? We don’t make mistakes.”
“Then why—” I cut myself off. “You knew Walker Nolan would tip someone off. That was the point.”
“Sometimes the biggest threats come from the inside. Sometimes the system is broken, Tess. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Dr. Clark glanced at the headmaster, then turned back to me. “You know what it’s like to stand up to people in positions of power, Tess. I’ve always admired the way you defend people who are not in a position to defend themselves.” She paused. “Is it so hard to believe that someone like me might want to do the same?”
I knew, just listening to her say the words, that she’d said a variation of them to Henry. She’d told him that the system was broken, corrupt. She’d led him to believe he could fix it.
“You know what President Nolan is capable of,” Dr. Clark said. “You know what happened to Justice Marquette, and you know that the Nolan administration covered it up.”
“You told Henry that it wasn’t over.” I forced myself to look Dr. Clark directly in the eyes. “You told him that the president was responsible for his grandfather’s death.”
“I believe someone in that administration was,” Dr. Clark countered. “Marquette was killed by the president’s doctor and a Secret Service agent on the president’s detail. That doesn’t strike me as a coincidence.” She paused. “It shouldn’t strike you as one, either.”
I imagined Henry, listening to these words. “You told Henry—”
“I told him that we could help him fight back, that we could help him get justice, that no one should be above reproach. Four men died. Were we not supposed to notice? Justice Marquette. His doctor. The front-runner to replace him. And a Secret Service agent, shot down by a SWAT team?” She lowered her voice. “The White House kept a lid on the agent’s identity, but we found out. We always find out. There was a reason the Nolan administration wanted this buried, Tess. Who do you think ordered the SWAT team to shoot Damien Kostas? Who do you think ordered that a man be executed, with no due process, no law?”
The fourth conspirator.
“So why not expose the truth?” I asked Dr. Clark. “If you really care about corruption and cover-ups, why not—”
“When someone takes office, we develop a contingency plan. If they’re worthy of the office, it need not be activated. If they are not . . .” Dr. Clark executed an elegant shrug.
A contingency plan, I thought. Like Walker Nolan. That had to be a plan years in the making. They’d already infiltrated Walker’s life before President Nolan was elected. They’d already sent Daniela to him. So when they developed suspicions about the Nolan administration, they didn’t have to try to dig up incriminating information.
They already had damaging information of their own.
They’d staged the bombing, revealed the relationship between Walker and the bomber, for the sole purpose of taking the president down.
My brain spun. “So shooting the president, that was what? Another contingency plan?”
“That shooting,” a voice said from the doorway, “was the one contingency we hadn’t planned for.”
I whipped my head in the direction of the voice.
“I need a minute,” Dr. Clark told Mrs. Perkins.
“You’ve had a minute,” Mrs. Perkins responded. “And you’re wasting your time. This one won’t flip.”
“Service,” I repeated dully. “You call this service?”
“Our organization was designed to infiltrate terrorist groups. We influence their decisions. We stop them from the inside out. We play their game better than they do.”
I was on the verge of asking her how, precisely, the Hardwicke School qualified as a terrorist group. But I decided it wasn’t worth the words.
“To do what we do,” Dr. Clark said, leaning forward and trying to take my hand, “we need eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Eyes and ears?” I jerked my hand back. “I’m bound to a chair, I saw you shoot a man dead, and you want me to believe that you just observe?” She believed what she was telling me. She expected me to believe it, too. “You people bombed a hospital!”
“And no one was hurt in that bombing,” Dr. Clark said fiercely. “You think that was an accident? A mistake? We don’t make mistakes.”
“Then why—” I cut myself off. “You knew Walker Nolan would tip someone off. That was the point.”
“Sometimes the biggest threats come from the inside. Sometimes the system is broken, Tess. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Dr. Clark glanced at the headmaster, then turned back to me. “You know what it’s like to stand up to people in positions of power, Tess. I’ve always admired the way you defend people who are not in a position to defend themselves.” She paused. “Is it so hard to believe that someone like me might want to do the same?”
I knew, just listening to her say the words, that she’d said a variation of them to Henry. She’d told him that the system was broken, corrupt. She’d led him to believe he could fix it.
“You know what President Nolan is capable of,” Dr. Clark said. “You know what happened to Justice Marquette, and you know that the Nolan administration covered it up.”
“You told Henry that it wasn’t over.” I forced myself to look Dr. Clark directly in the eyes. “You told him that the president was responsible for his grandfather’s death.”
“I believe someone in that administration was,” Dr. Clark countered. “Marquette was killed by the president’s doctor and a Secret Service agent on the president’s detail. That doesn’t strike me as a coincidence.” She paused. “It shouldn’t strike you as one, either.”
I imagined Henry, listening to these words. “You told Henry—”
“I told him that we could help him fight back, that we could help him get justice, that no one should be above reproach. Four men died. Were we not supposed to notice? Justice Marquette. His doctor. The front-runner to replace him. And a Secret Service agent, shot down by a SWAT team?” She lowered her voice. “The White House kept a lid on the agent’s identity, but we found out. We always find out. There was a reason the Nolan administration wanted this buried, Tess. Who do you think ordered the SWAT team to shoot Damien Kostas? Who do you think ordered that a man be executed, with no due process, no law?”
The fourth conspirator.
“So why not expose the truth?” I asked Dr. Clark. “If you really care about corruption and cover-ups, why not—”
“When someone takes office, we develop a contingency plan. If they’re worthy of the office, it need not be activated. If they are not . . .” Dr. Clark executed an elegant shrug.
A contingency plan, I thought. Like Walker Nolan. That had to be a plan years in the making. They’d already infiltrated Walker’s life before President Nolan was elected. They’d already sent Daniela to him. So when they developed suspicions about the Nolan administration, they didn’t have to try to dig up incriminating information.
They already had damaging information of their own.
They’d staged the bombing, revealed the relationship between Walker and the bomber, for the sole purpose of taking the president down.
My brain spun. “So shooting the president, that was what? Another contingency plan?”
“That shooting,” a voice said from the doorway, “was the one contingency we hadn’t planned for.”
I whipped my head in the direction of the voice.
“I need a minute,” Dr. Clark told Mrs. Perkins.
“You’ve had a minute,” Mrs. Perkins responded. “And you’re wasting your time. This one won’t flip.”
