ANOTHER FACETIME MEETING was in progress.

     “I have good news and bad news,” the president began.

     “Why don’t you hit me with the good news,” Ruskjer said, watching the president’s eyes -- on the theory that eyes never lie.

     “OK then. The good news is this: you’re clean. You got screwed -- just like you said -- by an overzealous prosecutor. I believe you’re innocent of all charges.”

     “That’s great! And the bad news?” Ruskjer braced himself.

     “I can’t grant you a pardon -- until after the election,” the president said. “Even then, it would most likely have to be a confidential pardon.”

     “What’s that?” Ruskjer wasn’t versed in political legalities.

     “I would direct law enforcement not to attempt to capture you.”

     “And my associates?” Ruskjer asked.

     “And your associates. You just couldn’t go public with any of it.”

     “If it’s gotta be all that hush-hush, why not do it now?” Ruskjer was having trouble with the logic.

     “We can’t afford any leaks,” the president said. “You’ve already involved too many people, what with Denver and San Francisco and the depot outside Washington, not to mention all the people you’ve been writing to in Hawaii. 

     "Hell, the FBI knows it’s you. They just can’t figure out where you’re keeping yourself! The minute I grant you any kind of pardon, it’ll be all over the news.”

     “And what -- even with my vote, which you can be assured of -- what if you’re not re-elected?” Ruskjer queried.

     “That’s not gonna happen,” the president said with a smile. "But even if it did, I’d know it in November. I’d still be president for another forty-five days. And that’s when I’d make it official.”

     “If I’m hearing you correctly, Mr. President, you want me and my associates to hang loose for six more months, during which time your guys will be doing their level best to hunt us down like wild pigs and either shoot us in the head or put us into expensive cages. Am I getting the drift?” Ruskjer clarified.

     “I’m afraid that’s the best I can do,” the president said, shrugging.

     “Well, Mr. President -- at the risk of sounding ungrateful -- I think you can do better than that -- a whole lot better. In fact, I know you can! You just have to believe in yourself -- and I’m gonna help.

     "Maybe I can give you some better reasons to see your way clear to a full, immediate, public and unconditional pardon -- election year or not.”

     “What do you mean?” the president asked. “What are you going to do?”

     “Whatever it takes,” Ruskjer shot back. “In that respect, you, Mr. President, will be setting the agenda more so than I."

     Ruskjer glanced at his watch.

     “I think we’re through here.”

     With that, both screens went dead.

     “How far did you get?” the president asked Tidwell.

     “The first link from here went to a bathroom on the first floor of the federal Building in Honolulu. Our guys plugged in there fairly quickly.

     “That linked us to a potted plant outside the manager’s office of a vacation rental on the Cayman Brac.

     “We just plugged in there in time to link to the next DNS somewhere in Bangkok, when the conversation ended.”

     “I’m sorry. We can’t risk a pardon before the election.”

     “I know, Mr. President. You did the right thing,” Tidwell said.