“Since the senator is grateful for your cooperation there’s an obvious lack of motive for him. Not to mention that this ploy was amateurish, hardly something the commander I knew would be involved in,” Sam pointed out.
“Something is definitely missing from this puzzle,” Acer said. “I’ll follow Theresa. Who knows where she might lead us? Could even be fun.” Acer smirked. He’d always liked his women immature and pouty, like spoiled children, Peter recalled. Probably why he never married, among other reasons.
“Good idea. I wonder where Mr. Mayor fits in to all this.” Peter turned to Sam.
“Good question. I’ll make it my mission to find out.” Sam saluted him.
“Don’t do anything I don’t want to know about. Either of you.” Peter meant it. His friends exchanged a glance. He wasn’t at all sure they would follow that order. They swerved into his driveway. All got out of the car at the same time and trotted to the house. Peter’s mind continued to roll forward as they all marched to his library.
“There’s a guy in Mad’s camp—Morty—good with financial analysis and computers. Talk to him,” Peter said. He spied Rick through the blinds pulling up in his car out front.
Rick pulled up to the curb in front of the brick house. He wasn’t sure it was necessary to have this meeting to talk about Madeline’s plan to make a big speech at Fordham Hall that night. They had a full schedule as it was, but they had to go.
Rick knew they had to hear what Madeline Grace had to say, and chances were that the press would ask for commentary from them. But he’d rather watch it on TV. Chances were nil that she was going to turn the campaign coverage around from keying in on the titillating personal aspects of the big romance to the more serious issues. He didn’t mind the coverage since Peter would do well either way. Looking around at the pristine garden, the wrought iron railings lining the steps and yard, not to mention the very large thick wooden door, he realized it was no wonder “they” thought PJD’s weakness was not being in the real world, not in the streets with the people. He really did lead a rarified existence.
The minute Rick walked in the door he saw Acer and Sam. He didn’t bother with politeness and grunted his greetings at them. They made him feel like he was back in junior high for some reason—nothing they ever said, but it was damned uncomfortable.
“Rick.” Sam nodded. The man stood still and erect with his usual inscrutable expression in place. Rick immediately walked past the man and found Peter in his study. He had to practically shove by Acer to enter the room. Of course they were standing guard over him, but Rick certainly wasn’t any threat. He paused and looked at Acer for acknowledgment. What he got was the slightest nod of respect and one small step in retreat. Rick smiled at the man while he inwardly prickled, reminding himself that these men had saved Peter’s life on more than one occasion. That got Peter’s undying loyalty and an understanding that Rick would tolerate them and treat them with respect.
But they weren’t supposed to be here now. They were supposed to stay far away from Peter’s campaign.
Peter looked up and something in his expression, or rather lack thereof, gave Rick the sensation that all three of them were hiding something from him. And he did not enjoy being left out of the loop of the very campaign he was supposed to be managing. Of course, it was always a safe bet that when these three got together it was for some kind of intrigue and no good. Rick didn’t bother hiding his frown. He had felt uneasy ever since he got the call from Madeline.
“Something tells me we’re not going to be discussing your belated choice for lieutenant governor. Speaking of which—Madeline called on your cell. You left it at the office so I answered it. She was startled to find me on the other end so she didn’t say why she called. But she seemed distressed—for her—in a clipped pithy way—you know what I mean. I can’t put my finger on it, but something wasn’t quite right,” Rick finished and was satisfied that his revelation had some impact on Peter’s too-cool façade.
“We’re going. We’re all going.” Peter looked grim. His two sidekicks looked grimmer and grimmest, Rick thought. Even more serious than usual. They always had cool, unreadable looks on their faces as if they were playing a perpetual game of poker. Peter had his moments, but he wouldn’t have gotten very far in politics if he hadn’t loosened up considerably. He showed emotion on his face all the time now, Rick thought. Only he knew it was one hundred percent controlled. He was only showing you what he wanted you to see, and that was not necessarily what he was feeling. Rick normally thought of that as a good thing, but not right now.
“Why are these guys coming to Fordham Hall? There’ll be wall-to-wall press there.”
“They can handle it,” Peter said. Rick’s pulse picked up.
“What’s going on? Cut the crap with me, Peter—let me in on your big secret.”
“Not now, Rick.” Peter dismissed his friend none too gently, but it couldn’t be helped. Rick’s announcement about Mad’s phone call ignited a sense of urgency he didn’t know what to do with. He only knew he needed to be there in case—in case she needed him for something—anything. “Let’s roll.” He looked at Sam and Acer. The two had put on suits for the occasion and would blend in well enough. He felt more comfortable with them on this mission than with Rick, he realized. When had this turned from a campaign to a counter-op?
“What happened to Bill and Bob?” Rick asked with a tinge of resentment in his voice on behalf of the heretofore indispensable and very loyal bodyguard/campaigners.
“Meet the replacements.” Peter gestured to Sam and Acer as they walked past Rick and out the door toward the waiting car. Before Rick stepped out after them, Peter stopped him. “Don’t worry, we have it under control.” It was all the explanation Peter could afford to offer right now—and it wasn’t even entirely true.
“That would mean something if I knew what ‘it’ was.” The resentment didn’t leave Rick’s face and dripped from his words. Peter couldn’t really blame him. Softening his face, he slapped Rick on the back, reminding himself that Rick was a good friend.
“You’ll have to trust me on this.” He hoped the reminder would be enough for Rick. When Rick shook his head and relented in his hard stare, Peter felt relieved. They walked out together and headed for the car with Rick muttering.
“When I signed on to this campaign I didn’t think I was signing up for espionage,” Rick said. His complaint sounded good-natured, and Peter chuckled as they got in the car. Sam sat behind the wheel and Acer rode shotgun.
“Acer, you can pick up the trail on Theresa from the event. I’m sure she’ll be there. Sam, you can head out to the Berkshires and do some tracking of the ex-senator and his wife in their local habitat later.” Peter felt like the general in charge of a mission more and more. He checked his watch. It was too late to call Madeline to ask a few questions. Too close to speech time. He would have to talk to her later tonight, after it was over. He wondered how he’d get her alone to do that.
The Mad Hotel Suite
“The polls say you should be PJD’s lieutenant governor,” Dennis told her, knowing she wouldn’t like it.
“I don’t care what the polls say. You fixed the questions anyway. And since when are you on his side?”
“Moi?” He took a long hard look at her, knowing she couldn’t be further from the truth. “You know I would never let that happen. He doesn’t deserve you.” He watched her, but she didn’t look up from her notes. If he didn’t know better, he would think she wasn’t listening. Then he decided to make sure she was listening.
“If you ever think of teaming up with anyone, I think it should be me.” That got her. He had her full attention now. Her big brown eyes were wide and on him, compelling him to bare his soul. “We’re good together. We could be better. I know what you have to offer. I want to be part of that…even after this campaign ends. You’re something very special, Madeline Grace.” He held his breath.
“Spoken like a true non-cynic,” she said and smiled her most kind sm
ile at him. He knew he’d said way too much. Time to go. They were all supposed to go to the Hall together in the van. Suddenly that didn’t seem like such a good idea to him.
“You dress. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there.” He walked, trying not to hurry more than usual. But after seeing that kind look, he felt like bolting.
Chapter 15
The Speech at Fordham Hall
Everyone was assembled. She was armed with her signature French twist to face the audience.
Dennis had driven in a separate car, making some excuse why. Madeline couldn’t worry about him now too. He’d have to take care of himself. She paced backstage at Fordham Hall with her staff. Sarah, Jonathan and Valerie reviewed the speech to memorize it for questions later. She looked up at Sarah, who smiled at her. Sarah obviously liked the speech. It was one of her better efforts, Madeline thought. But then she always did do her best work under pressure.
The fleeting thought that she should have taken Peter’s calls crossed her mind. He’d been trying to return her call after all. She wondered still if she should listen to the messages but decided it could wait. It was time to focus on her speech and let the campaign chips fall.
Sarah tossed her a bright blue-and-silver-wrapped chocolate. “For luck,” Sarah said.
“Or at least extra stimulation.” Mad smiled.
Mr. Edwards rushed toward her with the grin that hadn’t left his face since her arrival forty minutes before. He’d informed her they had a full house forty-five minutes ahead of show time, and said it like that was not typical.
“Here’s our staff photographer for some pictures now, Ms. Grace.” He looked at his watch and frowned slightly. They’d all been waiting for Dennis’s arrival to take the obligatory pictures.
“Mr. McBain isn’t here yet?” Just as he said it, Dennis sauntered around the corner at a much slower pace than when Madeline last saw him. She felt relief first, that he showed up, but now she was finally annoyed. So much for her attempt to not worry about him.
“Sorry I’m late. Had trouble parking.” He smiled and shook Mr. Edwards’s hand, then turned to Madeline. “I should have driven with you. I apologize.” Now he was not smiling but serious. She acknowledged his apology with a nod. Right now she couldn’t think about everything he might be apologizing for.
Mr. Edwards wasted no time in posing them all for several shots.
“Time for us to get out there,” Sarah announced. She, Valerie and Jonathan went out into the audience to observe both the people and the press and to field questions. When Madeline was left alone with Dennis she suddenly felt nervous, as if there were too many unknowns dangling out there, too many balls in the air for her to catch if they all fell at once. She hoped Peter was being an alarmist about his campaign sabotage theory. But then there was that phone call while they were at her parents’ house. What was that all about?
No more time to speculate. It was time for her to deal with the here and now. This was her chance to make a big impact. Time to go for the brass ring.
Mr. Edwards led them to the stage entrance where they could hear the buzz of the audience, and Dennis peeked out there.
“There are quite a few TV cameras set up, Mad. This should do it.” Dennis shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to her. She had no time to comfort him, but she had to try.
“I’m going for broke. Then we’ll see what happens. I really do know that I can’t control everything. Especially tonight. There’s definitely something out there…” That wasn’t what she meant to say. She stepped close to him and caressed his face with her hand. He had been about to say something but abruptly stopped. She sighed her smile. He smiled back.
“Don’t worry. You’re untouchable,” he said.
“No one is untouchable, Clever Dennis.” She captured his face with her eyes and kept that picture of his jaunty, self-assured smile in her head as she walked to the podium. Then she turned to the audience and was at once enveloped by the energy emanating from the people.
Whatever happened before tonight was gone from her head. All she saw before her was the vast future of possibilities. Now she was all about making these people see the same thing. With the introduction over and the applause dying down, she began.
“I stand before you not as a woman, not as someone’s daughter, not even as the better half of a romantically involved couple.” Her tongue was in her cheek and she smiled as the audience laughed and she caught sight of Peter out there. He wasn’t hard to spot as the center of much attention just now. He nodded and grinned at her.
“No. I stand before you as one of you. As the one who speaks what you think, who sees what you cannot because I stand on your shoulders.
“I am not a politician. I do not have a self-serving agenda to carve a career out of saying whatever the polls tell me to say. I have ambition for us all. I want us to accomplish great things because I believe we are capable. I believe each of us is responsible to do the most with what they have.” That got plenty of applause.
“I am not a politician. I will not treat the office of governor as if it were an opportunity to play a grand game of chess or high-stakes poker, where one plays by betting with favors to special interest groups every time the stakes are raised.
“Since I am not a politician, I will not tell you what you want to hear. I will not placate you like children or insult your intelligence with a wink and lies. I will speak to you as if you were responsible adults because I truly believe you are.” That got even more applause and she was pleased, expelling a long breath. She hadn’t been sure, she realized. She had let Peter’s cynicism about them seep in to cause her doubts. But not now. She felt restored.
“No, you cannot all always get everything you want. And that means me too. I know it is you who decide if you want me for governor. If you want to decide your vote on the basis of my sex or what I look like or my personal life, then that is your choice. I can’t stop you. I accept that.”
That got a large amount of applause and she was very pleasantly surprised. She glanced over at Dennis, who was clapping, and he gave her a thumbs-up to go along with his broad grin. He’d told her that was a line that would get them.
She took a deep breath now and plunged on into the uncharted waters where she’d just launched herself. “That brings me to the topic of my speech tonight, the role of the media and sex in American politics today.”
The audience was loud and energetic from that moment and at every pause until the end of her speech. At her conclusion, she felt her lips stretch into a smile of their own volition.
“Ms. Grace, will you take questions?” Bertrand St. Cyr stood, and a cameraman crowded nearby. He shouted repeatedly as the audience applauded her speech. Mr. Edwards came back out on the stage. Madeline thought quickly and decided a few questions were to be expected and were in order. She could handle them. She had just laid the groundwork and now was as good as any time to test the plan.
“That’s St. Cyr out there. I don’t think you should humor him,” Dennis said from the wings.
“If I could handle the pregnancy question I can handle anything he’s got for me tonight.” She smiled at Dennis and then went out there on her limb.
Madeline pointed to St. Cyr, who neared the stage and held a microphone.
“I’ll take a few questions now.” She braced herself—or so she thought.
“Ms. Grace.” St. Cyr’s voice came out of the microphone loud and clear enough for all to hear. It disconcerted her. It was unlike him to go with electronics. He paused until the crowd quieted, and she waited while she watched everyone’s attention turn to him.
“Is it true that you once had an abortion?”
All sound in the great hall stopped with the abruptness of a door slamming.
The silence lasted only a split second before the crowd came back to life. A shot of adrenaline kicked her plummeting blood pressure back into gear.
“No.” Her voice was adamant, but not panicked. After all, she had almost
been expecting something like this. The hall buzzed and now she felt something else out there. Of course she knew people gave off a certain amount of electricity. In a hall this size, that could amount to something. The thought made her more wary than she already was.
She could handle it. She forced herself to meet the stare of Bertrand St. Cyr and noticed his smile just before he asked his next question. In the booming, electronically enhanced voice, above the loud din of commotion that he had caused, he spoke again.
“Isn’t it true that you were pregnant six years ago?” He paused for a split second. Long enough for her entire heart to sink. The quick glance she gave to Peter couldn’t be stopped; no more than she could prevent the panic even when she knew it showed on her face. How had he found her Achilles heel? Everything came together at once like a magic jigsaw puzzle that went from a thousand scattered pieces to a solid seamless whole in an instant.
In that instant, she knew. But even that did not stop her from answering his question because she could explain, and the people proved tonight they would listen.
“Yes, I was pregnant six years ago.” That was all she said in a loud and clear voice before the stage was taken away from her.
The buzz became deafening. Then St. Cyr’s voice boomed again.
“Isn’t it true that you went to a clinic in upper New York to have an abortion?” St. Cyr turned and stared in the direction of Peter John Douglas. All the cameras turned as well. On all the big screens around the room, the picture switched from her standing on stage with shock written on her face to Peter John Douglas standing in the middle of his small circle.
There she saw for a fraction of time the blatant look of hurt screaming from his eyes as he looked at her standing still and silent on the stage.
This time when her blood plummeted to her toes she felt faint and saw Dennis from the corner of her eye move toward her from offstage. She needed to tell the whole story. She could clear this all up about the clinic. But St. Cyr had a microphone and the TV camera running and trained on him. He didn’t give her a chance to say more.
The Scotland Yard Exchange Series Page 22
