Deep Background
Chapters (56)
- Title Page
- Epigraph
- 1 - Washington, D.C. June 20
- 2 - The White House West Wing—June 21
- 3 - The White House North Gate—June 21
- 4 - The White House Roosevelt Room—June 21
- 5 - Rosslyn, Virginia June 21
- 6 - Memorial Bridge June 21
- 7 - White House Office of Clarence Dunne—June 21
- 8 - White House East Wing Residence—June 21
- 9 - Rosslyn June 23
- 10 - The White House Situation Room—June 24
- 11 - Adams Morgan June 24
- 12 - CIA Headquarters June 25
- 13 - White House June 25
- 14 - Dupont Circle June 25
- 15 - Capitol Hill June 25
- 16 - Adams Morgan June 26
- 17 - U.S. Treasury Department June 26
- 18 - Upper Georgetown June 26
- 19 - White House June 26
- 20 - Rosslyn June 26
- 21 - White House June 26
- 22 - Flight 847 June 27
- 23 - Downtown Washington June 27
- 24 - New Orleans June 27
- 25 - Dupont Circle June 27
- 26 - Foggy Bottom June 27
- 27 - Interstate Highway 10, Louisiana June 28
- 28 - Arlington Hospital, Arlington, Virginia June 28
- 29 - New Orleans June 28
- 30 - The Gauntlet June 28
- 31 - New Orleans June 29
- 32 - Capitol Hill June 29
- 33 - The Gauntlet June 29
- 34 - Adams Morgan June 29
- 35 - The White House June 29
- 36 - Bennington Gardens June 29
- 37 - Blair House June 30
- 38 - Langley June 30
- 39 - The U.S. Capitol June 30
- 40 - George Washington University Hospital June 30
- 41 - The White House June 30
- 42 - Georgetown June 30
- 43 - Havana Village June 30
- 44 - Bennington Gardens June 30
- 45 - Second District, Metropolitan Police Station June 30
- 46 - The White House July 1
- 47 - K and 17th Streets July 1
- 48 - The White House July 1
- 49 - Connecticut Avenue July 1
- 50 - Mayflower Hotel July 1
- 51 - The White House July 1
- 52 - Bethesda, Maryland November 3
- Also by
- Copyright Page
Title Page
For Steven and Barry
Epigraph
“You spin it and it’s over.”
—Thomas Hale Boggs, Jr., a prominent Washington lobbyist, on how to handle political scandal
1 - Washington, D.C. June 20
1
Washington, D.C. June 20
He paused at the top of the moving stairs and looked down to where it was dark. That was the way home. Maybe tonight, if he arrived at a decent hour, it would be different. No arguments. No shouting about where he had been, about why he never was around, about the money for this, the money for that, about her loneliness, her disappointment. And none of the silence that followed, during which they realized there was nothing else to shout, say, or whisper.
Other commuters pushed past as he considered. He watched the steps appear out of nowhere. Do it, a voice said—a voice from an earlier day. Break the pattern. Put one foot forward. Descend to the train. Stride through the townhouse door sooner than expected, carrying flowers, wine—do it, he thought. Everything might change. He pictured her at home, fixed in anger, blaming him for all of it. Waiting for the moment when he crosses the threshold and becomes the available target.
He stared down the escalator. Tomorrow, he said to himself.
He opened his umbrella, walked up Connecticut Avenue in the sticky rain, entered the Mayflower Hotel, and headed straight to the bar.
The thick-necked bartender with a boxer’s nose greeted him with a nod. The same bar, once again. Shit, last week, he had been quoted in a newspaper profile about the bartender—the guy had won some contest—and the story described him as a five-nights-a-week regular.
This was a spot to be left alone. But three nights ago a heavy-bearded fellow insisted on buying him drinks to celebrate some unspecified triumph and spent an hour trying to find a common link with him. Someone he knew who knew someone who knew someone who knew him. No such person was found.
The place was not crowded. Probably the rain, he thought. He took off his suit jacket, sat at the bar, and ordered a vodka and tonic.