“He doesn’t just owe them. He is owned by them,” the First Lady replied, leaning forward. Now the words came from her in a rush. “The Colombians are the source of my husband’s wealth. Years ago his mines failed. His oil exploration wasn’t such a success. But the Colombians kept investing. When his businesses were deeply in debt, the Lystras took them off his hands at very high valuations. No questions asked.”

“Your husband owned a company called Sallee LLC. He sold it to the Lystras—”

“For almost a billion dollars,” the First Lady interrupted. “He’s told the American people that he earned his money honestly. Then he refused to release his taxes, and the people accepted it.”

“He used Lystra money to self-fund his campaigns. First for governor, now president,” Natalie offered. “In a way, the Lystras bought him the Oval Office.”

“Yes.” The First Lady leaned back, eyes glistening. “And now they are calling it in.”

For a moment Natalie thought of Ryan live, in front of the Colombian embassy obsessing over the rape charges and Rigo’s hideout upstairs—while the real story was taking place downstairs in the embassy’s official offices. Developing plans to invade a neighbor. As payback to the president’s debt-holder.

“The rape charge, with Rigo, was that meant as a distraction, to keep the press from covering the campaign against Venezuela?” Natalie pressed.

“Perhaps, in part. It was also my husband’s way of vilifying Venezuela. How could he get the Americans to support another war for oil?” The First Lady let a sad smile play on her lips. “Imagine using a sex scandal as the match to light the conflict. It almost worked, didn’t it?”

“What was your part in this meant to be?”

“My husband is not a popular man. I would have been pressed into service, to help build the case against Venezuela. Call Sonia Barbaro a liar, accuse the government of an historic provocation that threatens stability in the region.”

“You felt pressured to use your position to endorse a war against your country. So you left.”

“So I left.”

“And the leaks,” Natalie said. “Who do you think is leaking all this information about you? The video of you with Anthony and the stories about you in the Caribbean?”

“I assume my husband’s team put out that doctored photograph of me with BamBam. Or maybe the Colombians did. I imagine they leaked the video of Anthony with me at the estate. They could access security video.” She sighed, “And that story about me in rehab? I’m sure my husband’s team suspected you were on the trail. It was just a matter of time until you connected the dots. They wanted to discredit you first.”

Embarrassed, Natalie said nothing.