The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  “You know it’s our policy not to issue statements about personal issues—especially those from the past.” Rick waited while the reporter responded as expected and on cue.

  “And you know I’ll go with the story anyway without your statement and it will seem as if you had something to hide, something seedy maybe?”

  “Nothing to hide but a personal life.” Rick paused as if considering his options, and then spoke his lines as they had planned. “Peter and Madeline were engaged to be married six years ago. But it was a very short engagement. They had their careers and ambitions that naturally led them in different directions.” Rick gave the reporter his best look of tragic sympathy. The man only looked momentarily surprised—at the fact they were engaged, no doubt. The reporter had clearly been fed some information about the past romance by someone and was told to verify it. It was Rick’s hunch that the mayor fed him the info. Who knew where he got it?

  Rick mentally shrugged because he knew the story would inure to Peter’s benefit—especially with the engagement proving that he had honorable intentions toward Madeline. When they had brainstormed the story, they had also figured the breakup had to be described as mutual. They didn’t want to weaken Peter by making him the “jilted man”—a victim—even though in reality he was. Rick didn’t believe PJD completely about that. It didn’t ring true. Rick waited for the reporter’s barrage of questions on the topic and was ready with his answers.

  “Is Mr. Douglas still interested? Are they having an affair now? What does this mean for PJD’s campaign for governor? They definitely looked like they are still an item on the dance floor. I’m definitely getting romantic vibes,” the reporter fired at him. Rick hid his surprise about the strong insinuations that Madeline and Peter were currently involved—they were political opponents, for pity’s sake.

  “They are just old friends these days—and political rivals of course. We would like Madeline to join with us as lieutenant governor—and we’re not giving up hope yet. But she has her own ambitions, and as you know, she is a very independent woman. That’s all I have to say and you should be thanking me. You owe me. Big.” Rick added this last just to confirm the unspoken rule about exclusive hot tips. The man nodded.

  “Thanks. But PJD gives a lot better quote. You just don’t have his sense of humor. What are the chances I could get an interview?”

  “I’ll give you a sense of humor—your balls are so big you need a surgical reduction.” Rick wasn’t really mad. The reporter was right about PJD being the king of sound bites. The news man snorted and, evidently satisfied, walked toward the exit.

  Rick decided he ought to be leaving as well, as he punched Peter’s number into his wireless to warn him. He glanced over at the mayor. Rick decided one more conversation with Mr. Mayor was in order. After this phone call.

  “Rick?” Peter answered his cell.

  “Yeah. The other shoe has finally dropped. They know about your engagement to Madeline. But there’s an unexpected twist.”

  “Give it to me.”

  “The twist is speculation about whether or not there is a current romance. Thanks to your dance.” He heard nothing from Peter. Not even a breath. Other men would have been swearing their brains out. But not his man. Good old PJD. Rick smiled into his wireless.

  “I’m going to warn Mad. Keep me posted.” Peter clicked off on his end. Warn Mad? That wiped Rick’s smile clean. The Achilles heel still loomed. He was just old enough to be nostalgic for the sound of a dial tone as he stood holding the silent wireless, and stashed it back in his inside pocket. He nodded at the mayor, gesturing him toward a rear door. He needed to head back to headquarters to gear up the troops for the spin and the likely renewed media barrage. He made a mental note about who the mayor was laughing with as he walked toward the edge of the crowd. He was pleased to see that the mayor nodded back and broke away from his group.

  Rick reached the mayor in a corner near an unused exit.

  “Leaving early, Mr. Racer? Is your mission accomplished?” The mayor smiled his pearly smile.

  “I think it’s more like your mission is accomplished, Mr. Mayor. Don’t miss the headlines tomorrow, although it should be old news to you.”

  “Possibly. I’m a very well-informed individual. So you have nothing more current to tell me about? How dull. Possibly not even believable.”

  “Even if it’s not believable, it will be understandable, possibly even noble.” With that last spin, Rick turned and left, picking up Bill and Bob on his way. He thought that if that conversation got any more cryptic, he’d have to sign himself up for a stint with special ops and do PJD proud. Sometimes he just loved his job.

  “Ready to swing into high gear, guys?”

  “Why?” Bill asked.

  “What’s up, boss?” Bob’s brow furrowed.

  “The general is about to come under serious attack and we can only fire in self-defense,” Rick said as he kept walking.

  “Huh?” Bill said.

  “He means the media got a hold of some bone of a story they won’t let go of and we have to come up with our spin without denying it,” Bob interpreted. Rick looked at the man with a broad smile and new interest.

  “I do believe you have the makings of a real political manager, Bob.” Rick slapped him on the back. Bob beamed and Bill snorted, shaking his head.

  They reached the car and Rick plugged in his phone and pressed some buttons.

  “So here’s the story, guys.” They both listened to him intently while Bob drove.

  “PJD was engaged to Madeline Grace six years ago for a short time before they broke it off. Mutual agreement. They were both ambitious and their careers took them in separate directions. No more detail. And absolutely no current relationship beyond old friends and political foes.” Rick finished and looked from face to face at expressions ranging from surprise to shock, consternation, concern and then a lot of head shaking.

  “Go with it guys. That’s as good as it gets,” he ordered them in a stern voice. Geez, Rick thought, if the reaction from these guys was any indicator, he hoped it played better coming from PJD’s mouth in the morning when the media mob got hold of it. He punched some numbers into his wireless. But then again, maybe Bill and Bob were pissed because they hadn’t known about this story hanging out there in the ether waiting to drop in. The other end picked up and he started talking.

  Chapter 6

  “No one told me you were beautiful,” the tall wiry man said from the doorway where he leaned against the doorjamb with his arms folded. “Happy fifth of July,” he added and uncoiled himself from his pose. Madeline half expected him to bounce forth like a clown on a spring popping from a jack-in-the-box. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw such a bright smile on a political operative.

  She watched Dennis McBain grin as he stepped into the makeshift office with no one to introduce him. It was too early. She looked at her watch to confirm it was 6:00 a.m. Madeline stood. She’d just checked her messages and found four of them from PJD, starting last night right after the party. She erased her frown, then offered her hand to her brand new press secretary straight in from Washington, DC.

  “You took me on sight unseen?” she said with a wry smile that reached her eyes and might have melted a lesser man, but not this hardened guy. That’s when Dennis knew her beauty wouldn’t be such a liability after all.

  He nodded in the affirmative. “If pictures don’t count. Your manager—Sarah Lisky—was obviously holding out on me. And I have to confess, I haven’t exactly been following this campaign all that closely. It never occurred to me that you’d be anything other than the typical polished professional.” He felt compelled to admit this to her.

  “I want to be different—but not in a clichéd kind of way. My slogan is politics not as usual. I probably should have run independent from the start. But party pressure and my advisors convinced me otherwise. As you can imagine. Sit.” She walked to the table and chairs and took a seat. He contemplated he
r and her surroundings, organized clutter, and wandered to a chair.

  “Yeah, kind of like Jessie Ventura—from an academic pond, but still a fish out of water. Now tell me, how do you think you got to be this state’s equivalent of a WWF politician?”

  “You really haven’t done any homework, have you?” She shook her head. “I guess being a hometown Pulitzer Prize winner and a Harvard professor helps immensely in this most parochial of states. Why did we hire you anyway?”

  “Okay. I’ll answer yours, then you finish answering mine. Because you came into some big exposure recently and you want to cash in and step up the campaign to the next budget level. I’m here to help you exploit your opportunities to make and spend money. You’re in a tight race and the other guy’s got just as much money.”

  “No, he probably has considerably more money. That’s not counting the personal and family fortune he’s vowed not to spend.”

  “I detect some animosity?” He raised his eyebrows at her for effect.

  “No. Envy. Pure unadulterated envy.”

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing as unadulterated envy—especially for such a reputed paragon of virtue as you.” He looked her in the eye. Her reactions were important, because she didn’t seem to censor herself and because she was really smart and seemingly sincere.

  “So you have done some homework after all.” She smiled again. “I’m only envious because I know the money is one hundred percent clean and unadulterated and well earned. And that the family is unspoiled by it.”

  Arching his brows again, he considered this interesting twist.

  “Gosh. Whose side are you on anyway?” he said in his best Jimmy Stewart imitation, becoming more fascinated by the minute with his lovely choice to pass time between presidential campaigns. She laughed at him, naturally.

  “The opposite side of the same coin, I’m afraid. We have as many similarities as any two candidates you’ll find. This will be one of the toughest aspects of the campaign to overcome.”

  “Oh?”

  “Our differences are more a matter of style than substance. But they are the most important differences in the end.” She looked at him, waiting for his frown no doubt. Or maybe for some reassurance, though she didn’t strike him as that type. She knew he knew this already. He stood and studied her, his hands shoved in his pockets, and decided not to push on her answer to his first question. He’d cut right to the chase.

  “So how does your past romantic relationship with PJD play into all this?” He narrowed his eyes and watched hers widen, only slightly, and only for a split second.

  She was surprised, but she shouldn’t have been. He deserved his reputation for being good at his job. He would know everything there was to know, including and especially the things the general public did not know. And of course he would know it all before he took the job.

  “It doesn’t.” Now might be a good time to tell him about the leak to the press. “Not yet anyway. But the media has the story.”

  “As of when?” he asked, playfulness gone.

  “Last night.” She took a deep breath that came out more like a sigh.

  “And they haven’t run with it yet?”

  “That’s not a good thing, I know.”

  “What’s the story?”

  She told him.

  “And are you having an affair with Mr. Douglas right now?”

  “No, I am not.”

  His expression didn’t change. He must be waiting for the real answer. He had to have everything from the horse’s mouth, apparently.

  “I know you don’t believe me, but you’ll learn. And by the way, my private life is private. Since you knew my romantic history before you took this job, you must believe that it doesn’t present an insurmountable problem for us.”

  “I do love a challenge. And you’re right—I do not believe you. But what’s important is that you believe yourself,” Dennis said.

  “Hey, I’m the psychologist here.” She said it with a laugh she didn’t have to force. He was surprisingly non-threatening as an interrogator.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I read your books. I learned a few things.” He raised his brows and added, “I’m still learning. By the way, where did your recent surge of extra money come from?”

  “Organizations like League of Women Voters, NOW, etc. Seems they wouldn’t support me as a party-line candidate, but as an independent I’m okay. There’s even a group that sponsors independent candidates in particular just because they’re independent candidates. Of course I had to pass the viability test.”

  “Guess this strategy of yours wasn’t so crazy after all,” said Sarah from the doorway. They both turned to find Sarah standing with her arms folded. She glanced at Dennis and then walked into the room, taking her usual seat at the table opposite Madeline. This should be interesting, Madeline thought.

  “I know PJD is pressuring you to quit the race and join him. Is that what you’re considering?” Sarah asked her in a clipped voice. Madeline controlled the urge to roll her eyes.

  “Is that what you think I should do?” She didn’t have to look at Dennis to know he was surprised at both Sarah’s tone and the question itself, seemingly out of nowhere. But Madeline knew Sarah had listened to her messages, as usual. Her personal life was personal, except where Sarah was concerned.

  “No. Of course not,” Sarah said. “Not after all our work. I do not want to join with him. You have ambitions of your own, remember? The people think you have similar platforms, but you’re like night and day. That’s the message we have to work on…that’s what McBain is here for.” Sarah said this without looking at him, only a small gesture acknowledging his presence. “He’ll have a fresh perspective on getting across the distinctions and showing up your superiority better than I would,” Sarah admitted.

  Madeline stood and began thinking and pacing. She couldn’t let her personal feelings get in the way, and that was where she’d been heading with her “date”—with her insistence on getting past their past emotional connection. It was past—it should be past. Story over. Then get back to business of campaigning. She grabbed onto the notion of campaigning and let it carry her mind away from those feelings. Then she grabbed a chocolate from the candy dish on her way by, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth as she continued to walk.

  Sarah waited patiently. She was familiar with Madeline’s “bad habits,” as she referred to them: chocolate and pacing. Madeline still wasn’t sure what was so bad about pacing.

  “What if I’m not the superior candidate at the end of the day?”

  “You mean what if we lose?” Dennis asked, reinserting himself into the conversation. If he’d been unnerved by Sarah talking about him as if he were not there, he was game enough not to show it.

  “No. I mean, what if he’s better?” Madeline asked. Sarah was not confused. Dennis was clearly confused. Exactly what Madeline wanted; she wanted to make sure he didn’t mistake her for a typical politician, which after all was her main distinction from PJD—and all the rest of the candidates, for that matter.

  “Don’t worry, Mad. Dennis knows he’s on the right team. He’s a pro, but he respects the fact that you’re not,” Sarah said.

  “Thanks for my answer, Sarah, but that most definitely is not what I would have said. You see, being a ‘pro,’ I am also a cynic. And I expect us all to be pros. I don’t think it matters a damn who is right, only who wins, and that is what I expect you to count on from me.” He frowned again at Sarah when he finished his speech.

  “Well done, Dennis.” Madeline looked at Sarah to see if she cared to up the ante. Sarah remained quiet and gave a grudging nod of approval to Dennis with only half of her frown in place.

  “And that’s the show from our dueling campaign professionals,” Madeline said. She picked up a handful of chocolate balls from the newly replenished candy dish and tossed them to Dennis and Sarah, laughing at their surprise.

  “Why do I feel more like a performing seal?” Dennis qui
pped before turning to leave. “I’ll be back—with a report on the polls. I think it’s time to start our own polling activity to head off the impending story.” He threw the last comment over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

  Madeline contemplated that suggestion, not at all sure what he had in mind, but very sure they’d made a good choice in hiring him. And she liked him. He was smart and fun.

  “What do you suppose he meant by that?” Sarah asked.

  “He’ll come up with some clever spin and carefully choreographed stats to bolster our strengths and ignore any perceived weakness. We would quote the polls in our press releases—that’s where we’ll be spending our extra money. On polls and campaigning in the non-grass roots style. What does my schedule look like for the next week, boss?” Madeline sat at her make-shift desk in front of her laptop.

  Sarah got out her large appointment book and dragged the working calendar she brought from the receptionist in the adjoining room to update them both. Madeline sighed at her friend’s refusal to use the iPhone to organize and schedule. It only collected dust on her desk.

  “So exactly how much did you tell Dennis about my relationship with PJD?” Madeline asked without looking up from what she was writing. Sarah didn’t answer right away.

  “Do you mean your past romance or the current one?”

  “Two points for you.” Now she looked at Sarah. “I mean any at all. But you don’t know anything about ‘the current romance’ because there isn’t one. I sent a message and it was received. But don’t worry. I suspect Peter’s intentions were not all romantic. He’s trying very hard to get me to ally with him as his lieutenant governor—as you so adroitly pointed out earlier.”