Kelly had come to Washington for a meeting that was arranged by Langdon with two potential investors who had all but said they wanted to be part of the film if they felt Kelly could deliver what he promised. They were stalwart D.C. types and skeptical of what they viewed as the liberal Hollywood crowd. This wasn’t going to be some “apologize for America’s strength” film, not if their money was involved. Kelly knew he had to reassure them he was onboard with his three veterans and that he intended to tell their story in such a way that both the Army and the Navy would likely see a spike in enlistments after its release. This was an American story at heart and he didn’t have any intention of saying otherwise.
Anand finally pulled his taxi to the curb beside the leaded-glass entry to the Willard. Definitely nicer digs than in Abu Dhabi, thought Kelly. Lily chose the hotel in an effort to impress the investors with traditional good taste minus any “Hollywood-like” flash. Kelly guessed upon entering the lobby that Lily had chosen well. The bellman retrieved his luggage from the cab and pointed him to the front desk, which was actually in the far corner of the lobby. Before he could get there a distinguished looking gentleman in a well-cut suit stopped him.
“Mr. Kelly?” the man inquired.
“Yes, I’m Tom Kelly.”
“I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Kelly. It is my pleasure to welcome you to the Willard. I’m Edward Chase, your concierge. I spoke with your charming assistant and your registration has been taken care of. I understand you’ve had a long journey and I’m sure you are looking forward to a relaxing evening.”
“I haven’t had service like this where I’ve been these last few days. Thank you, Mr. Chase.” Kelly made a mental note to e-mail Lily and thank her for arranging a quick check-in.
“This is your room key. I’ll send your bellman right up with your bags. You’ll be in suite 1022. I’ve arranged lunch for you and your guests tomorrow at the Occidental Grill next to the hotel at noon. Is there anything else you require this evening?”
“I believe you’ve covered it.”
“Very well, sir.” Chase summoned the elevator and reached inside to press “10” when Kelly entered. “If there is anything else I can do for you please don’t hesitate to call,” said Chase.
I wonder if he’ll come to my room and put a mint on my pillow? “Thank you Mr. Chase. I think a shower and bed is everything I need tonight.”
“Have a very pleasant rest. Good evening, sir,” Chase responded and stepped out of the way of the elevator door.
Kelly made his way to the suite Lily had reserved. A suite? I understand showing off a little for the moneybags but a suite might be going a little too far. I’ll never get this film made if I spend all my money on suites.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find his bed had been turned down and there was a chocolate on his pillow.
It’s not a mint, but I suppose it’ll do, Kelly mumbled. I guess a suite isn’t that extravagant just this once. I’ve been flying coach for thousands of miles. And that bathtub looks like it could probably work out the kinks those airline seats put into my back somewhere over the Atlantic.
After his bags were delivered, Kelly filled up the bathtub and tossed in some of the complimentary salts that indicated by their very proper label that they were designed for “relaxation and rejuvenation.” He wasn’t normally a bath kind of guy but . . . when in Rome. When the tub was full and frothy with relaxing and rejuvenating lavender scents he stepped in and sank down until his chin was touching the surface of the water. Immediately his mind went to the meeting scheduled for noon the next day and he began rehearsing his pitch to make sure he hit all the right notes as Langdon had instructed him. He also wanted to share some of the photos he’d taken on his scouting trip over the past few days. He knew that once the investors could see the physical locations for themselves they could get the vision. He was still running through how he would answer any questions they might pose and he even started imagining what he could do with an extra $100,000 on top of what he planned to ask for. Everything about tomorrow’s meeting was feeling good to him. He knew it had the potential to salvage or sink his career and everything had to go well. He didn’t taste the delicious chocolate that had been left for him because before Tom Kelly could try out his sumptuous bed, he drifted off to sleep in a lavender-scented bath.
He had no idea what time it was when he awoke but the water was no longer warm. In fact, he was freezing. Standing up he reached for the robe on the back of the bathroom door. His prune-like skin reminded him of when he was a little boy and liked to see how wrinkly he could get in the pool. He was anticipating hitting the sack (could you call a Queen Anne style, four poster bed with six pillows a “sack?”), but before he could finish drying off he heard the phone ringing beside the bed. As he crossed the room to answer it he noticed the early morning light coming in through the window. Had he slept all night in the bathtub?
“Hello?”
“Where are you? I’ve been calling you for an hour!” yelled the voice on the other end of the line.
“Who is this?”
“Are you hungover or still asleep? You have to be the only person in Washington, if not the whole country sleeping!” the voice continued to yell.
“Look pal, I think you’ve got the wrong room,” Kelly responded.
“Front desk says this is Tom Kelly’s room so I’m going out on a limb that you’re Tom Kelly, right? You weren’t invited here for a vacation. I wanted you here last night when your plane got in but the boss said you needed your beauty sleep. Well, you’d better be good and beautiful because you’ve gotta get over here right now and I don’t know when you’ll sleep again. Hell, I don’t know when any of us will sleep again. Most of us have been manning the phones since the announcement last night. Just throw on something nearly respectable and get over here.”
“Where is ‘here’?’”
“They kicked us out of the Oval for the president to take a call. Meet me in the Cabinet room. The guards are expecting you. You’ve got twenty minutes and if you’re not here you can explain to the attorney general why a possible nuclear war isn’t important enough for you to get out of bed!” Kelly heard the phone slam down.
“What the hell?”
As he was asking this question out loud he heard a sound at his door and saw that a newspaper had been slipped under it. He picked up the morning’s “Washington Post” and saw a picture of President Kennedy.
“Kennedy Orders Blockade of Cuba As Reds Build Nuclear Bases There; U.S. Will Sink Defiant Arms Ships” read the bold headline.
Why had someone slipped a fifty-year-old newspaper under his door?
Just then the phone on the table rang again. For the first time, Kelly noticed it was a rotary phone. He hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He picked it up.
“Mr. Kelly, this is Edward Chase from the concierge desk. I understand you have an important meeting today.”
“Yes, I have a meeting at noon with some important men and something strange seems to be happening. I just—”
Chase cut him off before he could continue. “Mr. Kelly, your meeting is quite important, yes sir. But it’s not at noon. The attorney general’s office has been calling for you since 4 a.m. Since the president’s address to the nation last night, the panic level has risen and you are needed right away. I have a car waiting to take you to the West Wing entrance. Please hurry down sir. I’m told the president is waiting to see you.”
Without another word Tom Kelly dressed in the black suit that was only slightly wrinkled in his suitcase. The tie that was with it wasn’t his style but Lily had chosen it and it was still in the bag from the store. He hadn’t even looked at it before but now he thought it looked vaguely retro.
I don’t know what these guys are up to. Maybe it’s another one of their friendly wagers. I knew they had contacts high up in the government but if they’ve gotten me in to the White House this morning I’ll be really impressed. A VIP tour, maybe? Something to do
with their Vietnam days, since they’re going all out with this Kennedy thing?
Whatever it was, Tom Kelly was sure it was a practical joke and he was willing to go along if it moved the project down the road. Yes, he was sure it was a practical joke, right up until he stepped outside to meet the hotel’s car that would take him to the White House. The Willard only used the newest and best of course.
The car was a 1962 Cadillac Sedan de Ville.
CHAPTER 4
CALVIN WALKER
“I double-pinkie promise I’ll bring you a Redskins jersey, pal.”
“Not just any number, Dad. It has to be number ten and it has to have his name on the back,” instructed eight-year-old Will Walker.
“Number ten, ‘Griffin III’ on the back. Check,” assured his exhausted father. Calvin Walker never missed a night telling his kids goodnight, but he couldn’t help eyeing the pile of work on the desk and wondering when he’d be able to get some shuteye himself. “Here comes your goodnight kiss, ready?”
“Ready!”
Calvin made an exaggerated “mmmwwwwaahhh” sound with a proper lip smack at the end and sent the kiss flying through space to his home in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Little Will received it with a grunt.
“That one nearly knocked me over!”
“That’s great. Now kiss your mother and hit those sheets, bud.”
“Night, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, pal.” Calvin waited until he heard the click of the phone. He had already said goodnight to his wife and his two daughters. Will always insisted he had to be the last one to talk to Dad whenever he was traveling. His older sisters teased him about it but he didn’t care. It was their thing and if Dad had to travel, and he often did, this was just how it had to be done.
Calvin Walker didn’t relish the time he spent away from home but it was the price of the success he had achieved with his company, Diagnosis Digital. “DD,” as he called it, had started as a simple software program back when guys with names like Gates and Jobs had just started to make a name for themselves and the field was still wide open. While he hadn’t built a Microsoft or an Apple in his garage, he had developed a program that could be found in virtually every doctor’s office and hospital in the country. Over the next twenty years, Diagnosis Digital would create software, hardware, and integrated strategies for medical practices that could give a one or two-doctor office the tools that were normally out of reach because of cost. DD had helped level the playing field and the newest offering on the table was designed to help small offices manage the extensive red tape and paperwork related to insurance. Walker was in Washington for a conference at George Washington University to get the word out to the medical community and he had spent the past four days pressing the flesh and demonstrating his product. He had made a good impression, as always, and now he could turn it over to his sales team. It had been a productive week so far.
Before he could go home he had to tie up some loose ends with regard to a new product the company had in development. For some reason there were issues with the patent application and he and his attorney planned to meet with a representative at the U.S. Patent Office the following day. His engineers had been sending him e-mails with reams of proprietary data and he had to familiarize himself with the case they needed to make. It was the kind of reading that could be counted on to cross a few eyes, and Walker was already worn out, but coffee was out of the question. He knew he wouldn’t settle down for hours if he succumbed to the coffee crutch.
Just an hour on the summary page Dan sent this afternoon and I should be good to go. Two, tops. Still in bed at a decent hour.
Three hours later Walker was craving coffee more than ever, but it was after midnight and way too late now for a pick-me-up. He jotted a few notes and settled back in the chair by the bed to knock out the last few pages. The last thing he read was a mind-numbing technical explanation of an online database management component.
The sound of a siren at seven-thirty in the morning jolted Walker from his sleep and he jumped up from the chair only to quickly realize his back hadn’t fared well during the night. Sleeping in a chair all night is for college students cramming for finals. Forty-seven-year-old men are better off sticking to high-quality mattresses.
Fortunately, he wasn’t late. After a hot shower he dressed in his last clean suit, packed his briefcase, and headed for the elevator. He planned to stop in the hotel’s café downstairs and pick up some chocolate biscotti he had discovered the morning after he arrived at the Willard. And, finally, he could have that cup of coffee he’d been wanting all night.
He stepped out of room number 828 and started down the hall. There was a man in a dark suit already waiting for the elevator. He was reading the morning paper and a section of it fell out and fluttered to the floor, separating some of the pages when it landed. Calvin instinctively reached down to assist in putting it back together. He picked up a couple of pages and the man who had dropped it reached for the others. Calvin stood and folded his pages neatly and waited for the man to stand so he could hand them over. As the man stood Calvin heard a deep, resonant voice say “thank you.”
He was about to answer that it was his pleasure to help but he was struck speechless when he got a look at the man’s face. For the life of him he couldn’t explain how it was happening, but Calvin Walker knew with absolute certainty he was staring into the face of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
CHAPTER 5
OLIVIA FORDHAM
The limo pulled up to the end of the carpet that led to the Willard’s revolving door. By the time the bellman reached for the car door, Edward Chase was striding down the carpet to meet the guest. The woman stepped out of the car with the regal air of a queen. She was dressed exquisitely in a designer dress and jacket of lavender silk and she carried a Hermes Kelly bag on her arm. She had never gone for the illustrious Birkin that all the celebrities in Hollywood toted around. It was too big for her taste and she found it unbecoming that so many women carried it because they thought it conveyed status. The Kelly was smaller and classic and she was nothing if not a classic lady. She came to Washington often for her business and had only sold her townhouse in Georgetown a few years before. She loved the house and had wonderful memories there but at her age the stairs were getting to be too much. She could have put in an elevator like some of her neighbors had done but the thought of doing that to the venerable structure went against her notions of historic preservation. This old beauty has aged gracefully, like I hope to do, she thought. She sold the house to a young family who would love it as much as she and her husband had. Since the sale, she had made the Willard Hotel her home in Washington whenever she was in town. Edward Chase always took excellent care of her and she looked forward to the time she spent there.
Chase reached to shake her hand as she exited the car and, as usual, she bypassed his outstretched hand and enveloped him in a warm hug.
“Hello, Edward.”
“Welcome to the Willard, Mrs. Fordham.”
“Edward, are we doing this again?” she sounded stern but smiled when she spoke.
“Welcome to the Willard, Olivia,” he said. “You know I don’t feel right calling you that.”
He offered her his arm and they walked to the door.
“That’s because you have excellent breeding, my dear Edward, but I insist. We’re a couple of old birds in this town and if old birds can’t call each other by their given names then who can?”
It was fine to talk about old birds but Chase knew even the President of the United States had not been asked to call her by her given name. “Because he’s a Democrat, darling Edward,” she had once told him with a smile. “And I refuse to give a Democrat the satisfaction!”
Olivia Fordham was a legend in Washington and in New York where she lived full time. Her late husband had been one of the country’s richest men, having made his fortune in the 1950s in land development. A decade before, he had bought up thousands of acres in Texas, Oklahoma
, Illinois, and New York. After the war he started selling them off one at a time, each with an affordable home on top where returning GIs could raise a family. He developed hundreds of planned subdivisions and bought more land with the money. It was making him a rich man, but it was nothing compared to the windfall when large portions of his Texas and Oklahoma land were found to be sitting on top of generous oil reserves. Eventually he dabbled in mutual funds and his keen business sense served him well in all his endeavors. He’d had a hand in dozens of businesses by the time he met Olivia Asher in 1964. She was a brilliant coed with plans to become a lawyer. He saw her for the first time walking down Fifth Avenue in New York. She had long, raven hair that shone in the midday sun, and she walked with an air of confidence about her. Their two-year courtship was a struggle because she believed marrying him would mean giving up her own dreams. He finally convinced her they could dream together and they married in 1966. He was forty-seven. She was twenty-four.
Before long, it became apparent to both Robert and Olivia that she had a head for business and instead of practicing law she eventually became his most trusted executive. She bought new businesses and grew them all over the world. They bought the house in Georgetown in 1970 and kept Robert’s Park Avenue apartment where she still lived. For thirty-two years they were happy, even though they had no children, a disappointment to both of them. Their fairy tale came to an end when Robert died suddenly in 1998. Olivia had been a youthful woman of fifty-six when she became a widow, but the idea of marrying again was a nonstarter. Within a year she had turned the day-to-day operation of their global business over to a trusted CEO and opened the Robert L. Fordham Institute, which was devoted to charitable causes around the world. The institute had become her passion and while she had gentlemen callers, as she referred to them, she took her role as Mrs. Robert Fordham very seriously and let nothing interfere with the work they both held dear. Robert had always talked of spending his last years giving away a great deal of the money he had made. Olivia was committed to seeing that happen.
The Willard Page 3
