by Entangled
“Ed, we’re right on schedule,” Jeff said, crowding in to speak with the governor. The accompanying members of the governor’s campaign team moved aside to give him time with Jeff.
Harry looked up just in time to see a strange expression consume Glencoe’s features. It was a look that almost suggested wonder, maybe even of a sudden revelation. For a brief moment Glencoe’s eyes locked with Harry’s, then without warning, the governor’s knees buckled and he sank to the tarmac.
Harry pushed the campaign aids aside. “Give the man some air and block him from the reporters.” The men and women quickly complied, forming a semicircle around the fallen governor. “Anderson!” Harry yelled to another highway patrolman. “Give me a hand.”
The young officer joined Harry and helped to loosen Ed Glencoe’s tie as Harry searched for a pulse.
“Harry,” Glencoe whispered. “Harry, this is it. I’m not going to make it.”
Harry grimaced and counted the barely perceivable pulse beat. “Save your strength, Ed.”
“No strength to save,” Glencoe managed to say and then fell silent.
“Get an ambulance!” Harry ordered, putting his ear to the governor’s chest. “He’s gone into cardiac arrest.” Harry ripped open the front of Glencoe’s dress shirt.
“He’s not breathing!” the shaken Klark Anderson announced.
“Keep your voice down,” Harry growled. “We’ll have to do CPR. You breathe for him, ready?”
Anderson nodded.
They went to work, but in the back of Harry’s mind he knew it was futile.
“Ambulance is on its way!” Jeff announced, putting his hand over the cellular phone. “I’ll go deal with the public.”
Minutes seemed to become hours. Harry kept pumping the older man’s chest, hoping, praying that resuscitation was possible. Dear God, he prayed, help me to do what’s right.
The ambulance, already standing by at the airport because of Glencoe’s dignitary status, screamed its way across the flight line. Harry and Klark gave way to the on-call doctor and his team, but it was clear that Glencoe was gone. Everyone knew it, but no one wanted to admit it.
After desperate attempts to revive the governor, the doctor finally declared Glencoe dead at 2:45 P.M. Harry was stunned, but no more so than the people around him. The election was in two days, but now there was no incumbent to run against Robert Kerns.
Jeff was already on the phone to the lieutenant governor, while what seemed an entire army of highway patrolmen had assembled on the tarmac to offer crowd control and protection to the governor’s team.
“We’ll tell the public that Glencoe is very sick. Put him on a stretcher, but for pity sakes don’t pull the sheet over his face,” Jeff announced after concluding with the lieutenant governor. “Harry, you’ll fly him back to Topeka, but not to Forbes Field. The press will catch wind of this by then, and everybody and his brother will be there. Go to the municipal airport.”
“They’ll be there, too,” Harry replied. “Say, I know a little field up north of town. It’s called Mesa Verde. It’s just a grass and dirt strip, mostly used for crop dusters, but I know we could get in and out of there easily. Why don’t I land there and you could have the funeral home waiting to receive the body.”
“Good thinking,” Jeff replied. “I don’t want a lot of pictures splashed across the paper until all the family is notified and the lieutenant governor has a chance to make the announcement.”
Without further delay, Glencoe was loaded onto a stretcher and then into the plane.
The whole thing seemed unreal, and to his surprise, all Harry could think about was getting home to Cara. He needed her. He needed to put his arms around her and hear her say that God would make everything all right. He needed to immerse himself in life and set aside the months of watching a friend die.
“Lieutenant Governor Campbell will tell the first lady,” Jeff said from the seat opposite Harry’s.
“She won’t be surprised,” Harry replied. “When will you go public?”
“Well,” Jeff answered, still sounding quite shaken, “Lieutenant Governor . . . no, make that Governor Campbell will make the announcement at 1700 hours from the Capitol. His office is already setting it up.”
“No doubt news of the collapse is already out,” Harry said, knowing how the media worked. “Hopefully our landing at Mesa will make the difference and buy us time.”
“Yeah,” Jeff murmured. “Time.”
****
Cara sat across from Bob Kerns at their campaign headquarters. His office was slightly bigger than hers. Even so, it would never be big enough to put the kind of distance between them she would have liked. But duty called and Cara had to endure his company. There was a massive reception planned that night, and support was running high for the event. Kerns was concluding instructions to the very attentive Serena Perez while Cara awaited her own list of do’s and don’ts.
“Well,” he announced as Serena took her leave, “we’ve nearly won this thing.”
“You think so?” replied Cara dryly. “I heard the polls have Glencoe way out in front.”
Kerns’ eyes narrowed. “We’re going to win. You might try to sound enthusiastic.”
“You mean lie?” Cara questioned bitterly. “You know I don’t want this. I hate the fact that I’ve had anything to do with this race. And once the election is over, my part in it is over as well. I’ve decided I’ll resign as lieutenant governor if we win.”
“I don’t think so, Cara.” Kerns said the words so matter-of-factly that Cara’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You see, there is a great deal to be done and you can help me. Your image is something I need, and I intend to benefit greatly from your puritanical right-winged facade.”
“You can’t be serious. Take Russell on board as lieutenant governor, but leave me alone. I’ve had it with campaigns and politics. I told you from the start—”
“I don’t care,” interjected Kerns. “You seem to forget who is in charge.” He waited a moment, lacing and unlacing his fingers. “You leave when I tell you to leave. Not before and not after.”
Cara felt genuine fear as she looked into his eyes. They were cold and indifferent, but the tone of his voice made his intentions clear. “And if I don’t?” she dared the question.
Kerns smiled maliciously. “Then you’ll pay the price for double-crossing me.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Serena Perez said, coming unannounced into the office. “But you need to come see the television.”
“What in the world for?” Kerns asked rather indignantly.
“I don’t know. Russell just said to get you in there now,” Serena replied.
“Come along, Cara. Let’s see what’s so important.”
Reluctantly, Cara followed Kerns into the windowed front room. Here and there volunteers worked at making last-minute phone calls, but in one corner most of the staff gathered around the TV, and a definite hush had overcome them all.
“Governor Glencoe will be sorely missed by the people of this state. We extend our deepest sympathies to his family members and friends.” The announcement was coming from the new acting governor, James Campbell. “I can take a few questions at this time.”
A mad rush of clamoring reporters filled the television screen as Cara exchanged a look of surprise with Bob Kerns.
“What time did the governor pass away?” the first question came.
“The time of death is given as 2:45 P.M.”
“Has cause of death been determined?” This question came from Melissa Jordon.
“It was not well known, but the governor had been ill for some time. He had a form of stomach cancer, and it was hoped that with chemotherapy and other treatments, he might recover. Cause of death is presumed to be related to that cancer.”
“Can you give us more details on the disease itself? How long had the governor been sick, and why didn’t he allow the public to have knowledge of his condition?” a reporter from the Kansas Cit
y Star questioned.
“I can’t give you any more information about the form of cancer, at least not at this time.” Great beads of perspiration formed on Campbell’s brow. “The governor chose to remain silent on his condition and I respected his wishes.”
“The election is less than forty-eight hours away,” another reported commented. “How will this affect you, and what outcome do you see for the election?”
Campbell was fading fast, Cara thought. He looked incapable of dealing with the strain. He glanced nervously from side to side, as if in doing so he might summon help.
“I’m . . . well . . . it is . . .” he stammered, then stopped all together. He seemed to take a deep breath, and Cara noticed that he gripped the podium more tightly. “The campaign will move ahead as planned. I’m uncertain as to how the actual event will be handled.”
Kerns began laughing, and to Cara’s surprise, so did a great many of the staff members. “This is it!” Kerns announced. “This is our ticket to victory.”
“Campbell is hardly any competition. The man is completely incompetent,” Owens said, shaking his head. “Who could have known it would be this easy.”
“What if he wins out of sympathy votes?” Cara suddenly voiced aloud.
Every face in the room turned to stare at her. Feeling very out of place and stupid for such a suggestion, Cara lowered her gaze to the floor.
“A very good point, my dear running mate,” Kerns replied calmly. “We will have to call in some last-minute favors, Russ. Get ahold of your people at the papers in Wichita, Kansas City, and of course, The Capital-Journal. We’re going to need a strong stab at the secrecy and deception practiced by the current administration. No matter what it costs us, we have to instill doubt in the minds of the Glencoe/Campbell supporters.”
Owens nodded and was already headed to his desk. Cara met Kerns’ smug expression. “How could you?”
“It’s nothing personal, Cara. It’s just politics.”
“Obviously,” Cara replied in a voice that betrayed her anger.
Twenty-Four
A hush had fallen over the gathering of wall-to-wall Kerns supporters. The hotel ballroom, in its festive red, white, and blue decor, was designed to promote the victory of Kerns and Kessler. Among the people assembled were press representatives and wealthy friends and family who had paid plenty to see Kerns elected.
“And with the majority of precincts reporting in, it’s now clear that Robert Kerns will be the next governor of Kansas,” the commentator on the projection screen announced.
The cheers around the room were deafening. These people had gathered en masse to celebrate victory or, if necessary, share defeat with their man. Now it became clear the party was to be a celebration, and they were all more than ready.
News reporters from every major paper and television station were gathered there as well, and only when the current governor came on the television did the cheers die down again.
“. . . and so I offer my congratulations to the new governor-elect and pledge this administration’s support and assistance to make a smooth transitional period.” Campbell continued, mentioning the deceased Governor Glencoe, but Cara couldn’t make out anything else. The crowd of well-wishers was cheering again and chanting, “KERNS AND KESSLER! KERNS AND KESSLER!” Finally it fell away to just, “KERNS! KERNS! KERNS!”
I’m the new lieutenant governor, she thought. Looking around the room, Cara felt as though she might be in the middle of a dream. Better yet, a nightmare. People were clamoring around Bob and his family, and those who couldn’t reach him seemed content to merely push toward him. All at once, someone spied Cara from where she stood half hidden behind a huge potted tree.
“There’s Mrs. Kessler!” a voice shouted, and soon Cara was engulfed in an overwhelming sea of people. Microphones were shoved in her face, although not as many as Kerns had in his.
Suddenly Russell Owens appeared at her side. “Come on, you’re going to stand beside the new governor and make your statements with him.”
As strange as it seemed, Cara was actually glad for Russell’s possessive hold on her arm. He pushed his way through the exuberant mass and helped Cara up the platform steps.
“Take your lead from Bob,” Russell reminded. “Offer nothing on your own, and whenever pressed for a personal opinion, defer to Bob. Understand?” Cara could barely hear him, but she nodded in affirmation and took her place beside Governor Robert Kerns.
Kerns immediately noticed her presence and grabbed her hand, raising their arms high in a victorious salute to the crowd. This would be the front-page photograph for tomorrow’s various state papers, and Cara knew Kerns would play it for all he was worth.
Bulbs flashed nonstop for nearly five minutes, and combined with the television camera lights, Cara’s eyes began to hurt. The noise and lights gave birth to a throbbing sensation that started at the base of her skull and worked its way up and over her forehead. All Cara could do was smile and pray that the night would pass quickly.
Kerns signaled for his supporters to quiet, and Cara was amazed at how quickly they complied. As always, Kerns was in control.
“Thank you!” he called out as the clapping and cheers faded. “Thank you so very much!”
Cara glanced around, noting that Debra and Danielle had been brought onto the platform to stand on the other side of Kerns. Debra looked smashing in a Christian Dior suit of fire engine red, and Danielle, although rather serious in expression, was all feminine charm in a navy-colored angora sweater dress. Looking at her own well-tailored suit of navy blue with a red-and-white print blouse, Cara could see how careful the planning of this moment had been. Choreographed down to the last detail, the people surrounding Robert Kerns in his victory were true patriots in their red, white, and blue.
“Well, we did it!” Kerns announced, and the cheers rose up again in deafening waves of support. “Without you, none of this would have been possible. My thanks go out to each and every one of you who have seen us through this process and who voted their support to our new administration.” Like an actor confident of his part, Kerns put an arm around Debra and flashed her a loving smile. “And of course,” he began again, “none of this would be possible without my dear wife, Debra, and our daughter, Danielle. They both worked long hours to give me the kind of extra support that always spells victory!”
Again, applause and cheers.
Kerns then turned to Cara, and she thought for a moment her heart might stop beating. The look he gave her was almost threatening, though to the crowd below them, Cara was certain it appeared nothing of the kind. She detected in his eyes, however, a menacing underlying threat that made her blood run cold.
“And to this young woman, my running mate—” Cheers interrupted the speech and Kerns allowed it for a moment. “Cara Kessler, our next lieutenant governor, has worked as hard as anyone. She has devoted herself to the campaign and has made herself available to assist me whenever and wherever I needed her. She is a fine young woman and she will make a tremendous lieutenant governor.”
Applause and five hundred faces turned to acknowledge her. More bulbs flashed, and Cara didn’t know what else to do but smile and wave at the crowd.
Kerns continued his speech, but Cara heard very little of it. Staring down at the audience, she became more aware than ever before that these people expected something of her that she might not be able to give. What would they think of her if they really knew her heart? Would they be so supportive six months from now—or even six weeks?
Politics was such a fickle business, and no one knew this better than Cara, who had borne a good share of stress during her father’s political career. Now she was the one in the limelight. Well, not exactly. She reasoned with herself that the lieutenant governor was just a show position. A second runner-up who would assume the duties of office should the governor be otherwise unable to fulfill his obligations. She’d attend funerals and dinners on behalf of Kerns, and she’d sit behind a fancy desk
in the Capitol building. She’d share in meetings with the chief of staff, who would no doubt be Russell Owens, and pretend to agree with whatever fate Kerns had slated for the state. Or would she? What kind of power could she have in this position?
Suddenly her thoughts were running rampant. I may have had to bow and stoop to Kerns during the election process, she thought, but now that I am duly elected, I should have some say as to what I do on behalf of the position.
She thought of HEARTBEAT Ministries and all the children she’d known through the years. Worried kids without futures, frightened kids without hope, desperate kids seeking answers. She wondered how she might benefit them from her position as lieutenant governor.
Cara tried to force herself to concentrate on what Kerns was saying, but it was no use. When she looked out on the precisely assembled mass, it was the faces of nameless children who haunted her. Children who needed her voice to be heard. Children like Teri and Jamie.
Kerns had opened the floor to reporters, and Cara wasn’t surprised when Melissa Jordon asked him point-blank what the focus of his administration would be.
“There are a great many projects and interests on which this administration plans to focus. The concerns of the people are my concerns, and their needs will be my uppermost consideration,” he replied in political mumbo jumbo while reporters hurried to scrawl notes.
“And you, Mrs. Kessler,” Melissa questioned with a look that went straight through Cara. “What will your focus be?”
Cara hesitated a moment and saw Russell motioning her back to Kerns. Realizing her forum, Cara squared her shoulders and smiled at Melissa. “My focus will be much as it has always been. I want to give a voice to those who have no voice. I want to bring justice to those who can’t seek it for themselves.”
****
Later that evening Kerns followed his wife and daughter into a black limousine, with Russell bringing up the rear and waving reporters away from the vehicle.
His family was greatly subdued by the events of the evening, and although others might have found this strange, Bob Kerns welcomed it. Ripping his tie away from his neck, Kerns turned to Russell.
