Do You Want to Know a Secret?

by Mary Jane Clark

  Winning the primary had been only the first step.

  Win unsuccessfully suppressed a burp. “Okay, let’s go over this next stop quickly.”

  “Drugs—Q and A with junior high school students. It’s been done and done and done. I know. Yet I’ll bet you it makes all the New York local stations and at least two of the network shows tonight.”

  Heller lit a cigarette, took a deep drag and exhaled out the half-opened window before continuing.

  “Remember, Win, keep it general. If you have to refer to a specific drug, use crack as the example. Crack scares parents the most and, after all, they are the ones who will be doing the voting for the hero who is going to make the nightmare go away. If some kid asks you about booze, speak about how troubled you are by the increase in teenage drinking. Then get off the subject. Liquor is not illegal and most of the mommies and daddies want it to stay that way.”

  Win smiled, listening as he checked his teeth in the mirror fastened to the headrest in front of him.

  “Keep your answers short. The TV people are all looking for soundbites. So respond in statements of about ten or fifteen seconds that sum it all up. And be prepared to fill in if there are any lulls in the questioning by the kids. Here are some questions you can turn around and ask the students if they run out of questions to ask you.”

  Nate handed Win several index cards. The candidate perused them. How many kids do you know who use drugs? Does anyone know anyone who was killed by drug use? What suggestions do any of you have on what to do about drugs? Senator Wingard slipped the cards into his jacket pocket.

  “I know it by heart, but let’s go over it again. I favor drug education starting in kindergarten, an end to foreign aid for governments that refuse to cooperate in attempts to stop drug smuggling, and I’d increase support to the DEA, coast guard and customs service. Do I or do I not favor immediate treatment for any addict seeking it?”

  “You do. Yes, it’s extremely costly and the federal government is in tough economic shape. But you believe that these people need help.”

  The senator smiled. “Thanks for clarifying for me what I believe.”

  “Don’t mention it,” returned Nate as he flipped his half-smoked cigarette out the window.

  “I’m also against pollution, aren’t I? When are you going to give those things up?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t worry about me. I’ll stop after you’re in the White House.”

  The car pulled up in front of McKinley Junior High. Officials and school personnel were standing in front, waiting to greet the candidate. Wingard turned to Heller. “Thank God we’ve got Pete Carlson on our side.”

  “It is helpful, isn’t it?” smirked Heller. “It’s so nice to have our own highly placed source in the KEY News ranks. That Yelena Gregory keeps blabbing all sorts of interesting tidbits to Pete. But I’ll tell you one thing, boss. We’re going to have to provide for Pete after we win, he says. He’s making himself sick by sleeping with her. He doesn’t know how much more he can take.” Nate chuckled.

  “Remember, think soundbites,” hissed Nate as a beaming Senator Wingard stepped out of the car and extended his hands toward the well-wishers milling on the sidewalk.

  Chapter 36

  His face almost purple with rage, Pete Carlson burst into Yelena Gregory’s office.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded. “I should be doing the Presidential Personality Profiles. Not Eliza Blake!”

  Yelena rose from her desk. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said quietly, as she walked to the office door. “Hold my calls,” she said to the uncomfortable receptionist stationed outside the office. Closing the door softly, she hissed at him, “Don’t ever do that again!”

  It was not the reaction Pete had expected from her. He began to sputter, but Yelena held up her hand to stop him.

  “Don’t even start with me. I go to bat for you as much as I can, but there are negative vibes about you around this place, Pete. I didn’t make them, you did.”

  “But this is such an insult! Bill always did the Triple Ps, along with his anchor duties,” he implored.

  Yelena was unmoved. “Why don’t you just act like you go along with the official explanation? That it’s too much to ask you to do the presidential candidate takeouts while you’re getting used to anchoring.”

  “But everyone knows that I should be able to fit both in. Bill did it. Now Eliza’s doing it, combining her morning anchoring with the responsibility of working on the Triple Ps.”

  Yelena took a sip of her herbal tea while she contemplated his words. Pete was right. He should be able to handle both jobs. But Range had been adamant at the morning meeting. He wanted Eliza Blake reporting on the Evening Headlines. Yelena could have overruled him, but she didn’t. She, too, felt that the Evening Headlines would benefit from Eliza’s input.

  Pete took Yelena’s silence as an indictment. “So, you don’t think I can handle it, do you?”

  “That’s not what I said, dear.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  He quickly turned to leave, but Yelena held out a hand to stop him. “Pete, please, wait.”

  As an executive she was unmoved by Pete’s rantings. But as a woman she didn’t want to lose the man who made her feel desirable for the first time in her life.

  Pete read Yelena’s ambivalent expression.

  I guess I’ll just have to sleep with her more, he thought. And get more dirt on Eliza Blake while I’m at it.

  Chapter 37

  “You made it, thank God. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold this seat.”

  Eliza slid into the metal and plastic chair next to Mary Cate Ryan.

  “Thanks, M.C. I appreciate it. What’s the deal? This wasn’t on the schedule yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I know. The assignment desk got a call from Wingard’s people after midnight. Apparently Wingard wants to make some AIDS-related point. Could be interesting. So far all any of the candidates have done is tsk, tsk and wear little red ribbons in their lapels.”

  The din subsided as Nate Heller walked up to the podium in the Miracle House conference room.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming, especially on such short notice. Senator Wingard will make a short statement after which he will take your questions.”

  Mary Cate discreetly elbowed Eliza as Haines Wingard strode to his position at the front of the room. Without turning her head toward her partner, she muttered, “Hunk, big time.”

  Eliza half smiled in response. She wasn’t sure what she thought of the candidate. Everything she had seen and read about him was so politically correct, so perfect. There hadn’t been anything that she had found in her research that she felt gave her any real insight into the man. No personal stories about how he had coped with a hardship or setback. Nothing so far that had given Eliza a gut feeling about the man himself. She hoped she’d be able to get something beyond the surface when she interviewed him.

  “Members of the press, this is a condom.” Haines Wingard stood in his $1,300 navy pinstriped Brooks Brothers suit, held up a small blue square packet, opened it and displayed its contents. Cameras whirled and clicked and the audience twittered nervously.

  Eliza leaned over to Mary Cate and whispered, “Guess who’s going to lead everyone’s show tonight.”

  “Now that I have your attention, many of you have already guessed my reason for calling you here this morning. Acquired immune deficiency syndrome. AIDS. It’s spreading at an astounding rate in the United States and the rest of the world. Projections of worldwide AIDS cases at the start of the new millennium are estimated to be somewhere between 38 and 110 million. Thirty-eight to 110 million!”

  The audience was quiet.

  “It’s not a waste of time to go over the basic facts. AIDS is caused by a virus. The human immunodeficiency virus—HIV. But unlike a cold virus or a flu virus, HIV doesn’t die after it has done its damage. HIV makes itself at home, combining its genetic material
with the body’s cells. The HIV uses those cells to make copies of itself, our cells becoming tiny virus factories.”

  Wingard looked around the room, his eyes daring anyone not to pay attention to what he was saying. He took a drink of water before continuing.

  “HIV primarily attacks T cells, the critical part of the body’s immune system. Once T cells are destroyed, the body’s delicately balanced immune system is upset and can’t protect itself against disease. The result is an excruciatingly painful death.

  “We’ve heard ad infinitum that the main methods of transmission are unprotected sex, shared needles or syringes and contaminated blood transfusions. Blood screening has been implemented to test for HIV. But there are a few other points worth noting.

  “Surveys have found that the average age for a girl in the United States of America to have sexual intercourse for the first time is sixteen. The average age for a boy is fifteen and a half. It is also estimated that two and a half million teenagers are infected with sexually transmitted diseases each year.”

  Eliza thought of Janie, thankful that her daughter was so young. She hated these scary stats.

  “Studies have also shown that sixty percent of American high school seniors have used illegal drugs. Some of those drugs are injected.”

  Wingard paused to let his words sink in.

  “We needn’t be rocket scientists, ladies and gentlemen, to figure it out. We have got to do something. Individually, like the people here at Miracle House who help those infected with AIDS and their families get through the most difficult of times. And we have to do something, collectively, as a nation. That’s why today I am announcing the formation of the AIDS Parade for Dollars.

  “The AIDS Parade for Dollars is modeled after the March of Dimes, which Franklin Roosevelt established in 1938 to combat the scourge of that day—polio.

  “Though just pulling out of the Depression and immersed in the effort of the Second World War, Americans sent what they could. Many times a quarter or a dime. But the dimes marching to the White House added up. Eventually $675 million was collected. Those dimes paid for the research that led to the Salk and Sabin polio vaccines in the 1950s. Polio has been virtually eliminated.

  “We have to make this a national priority. If every man, woman and child donated just one dollar, we’d have over 250 million dollars, and be that much closer to finding a way to rid ourselves of this terrifying plague.

  “When I get to the White House, I will do all I can to increase federal funding for AIDS research. But we have no time to waste. Scientists continue their search for a vaccine, but researchers agree that developing a vaccine is much tougher than originally thought. We must get busy on it today. Each of us can make a difference.”

  Wingard looked out at the news crowd. “I might add that all of you are in particularly strong places to make impacts. I hope you will use your positions to do some good. Any questions?”

  “What will be the mechanism for the collection of donations?” asked the Associated Press reporter.

  “At this point, a simple mailing address, which will be handed out at the end of this news conference.”

  “Senator, why are you coming out for this particular cause at this particular time?”

  Eliza thought she detected a trace of annoyance in Wingard’s face as he glanced down at the podium and fiddled with the edge of his note paper. “Because as I’ve traveled this country, I’ve been very moved by some very personal stories of individuals with AIDS and the pain and suffering it is causing them, their families and all those who love them. We are seeing AIDS babies, the offspring of AIDS-infected mothers and fathers. These babies lose their parents and then face the prospect of dying of AIDS themselves. The statistics spotlight the potential magnitude of this thing. The teenage stats in particular are frightening. We’ve already had too many lives cut short. I don’t want to see any more lost promise in America.

  “We can’t stand by and assume that the government is going to make it go away. We’ve got to take matters into our own hands, too. We’ve got to do our part. AIDS is pressing. AIDS is urgent. Finding a cure must be a national priority.”

  The questions went on for a while. After Senator Wingard left the podium, aides distributed the press releases with the Washington, D.C., post office box address for the AIDS Parade for Dollars donations.

  “Smart or stupid?” asked Mary Cate as she and Eliza rode back to the studio.

  “I say smart. It’s an important issue. Even those who are disgusted by the subject are realizing that it isn’t going away and they can’t keep their heads in the sand.”

  “But he’s already out in front. Why risk the controversy?”

  “Think about it. At this point, it really isn’t all that controversial. Wingard comes out and tries to do something constructive about a horrible disease. Who is going to fault him for that? Actually, it’s a pretty damn smart thing to do. He looks like a leader, willing to take up something that no one has had the guts to really take on before.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Notice the FDR tie-in?”

  “Yup. I can see the stories tonight. Wingard talking about the AIDS Parade for Dollars, followed by a little video history lesson on Roosevelt and the March of Dimes. The very presidential connection is made to the viewing audience. Masterstroke.”

  Chapter 38

  Eliza prepared for Senator Haines Wingard’s interview, knowing that she would be questioning a sure candidate for the presidency.

  She sat at her computer terminal in her KEY to America office. Bill Kendall’s diskette was inserted into the machine. She wanted to find something that she might be able to use to elicit an emotional response from Wingard, but Bill’s notes were not providing what Eliza needed.

  She searched the computer screen reading what Bill had written.

  Aside from politics, Wingard’s passion runs to sports . . . He is a crazed Michigan State basketball fan, and tries to attend as many games as possible each season. Summer vacations are spent at this family’s home on Lake Michigan, where sailing and golf are his favorite pastimes.

  While Joy has tried to get him interested in subtler theater and art, Wingard prefers popular show tunes and Grandma Moses paintings. (Not to put down Grandma.)

  In fact, most of the Wingards’ free time (what little there is of it) does not appear to be spent together.

  Childless, after several miscarriages, the couple’s main focus has been Wingard’s career. Joy attends all obligatory events, conducting herself appropriately, eyes on the candidate, nodding at the right times, applauding, smiling, etc. A certain lack of spontaneity and enthusiasm detected at times.

  Just great. I’ll ask him, “Senator, what’s the deal between you and your wife?” That should really get him to open up, thought Eliza.

  Ask about the mole.

  Eliza caught her breath. The mole? What did Bill mean by that?

  Bill had gone on to list congressional bills that Wingard had been unsuccessful in getting passed. The list was short.

  The guy was a dream candidate. There didn’t seem to be anything to get him on. No miscalculations, no misspeaks, no apparent skeletons.

  Eliza switched off the computer, uncrossed her long legs, stood and stretched. Wingard was scheduled to come to KEY this afternoon. Rarely had she been this anxious about an interview. She so wanted to get this right, to have her first Triple P be a standout. She knew she was being watched and it was important to show she was up to the job.

  She had decided to focus first on Wingard’s history, the theory being that you can tell a lot about a person by what he has been through and how he has responded. Not that people who had it relatively easy couldn’t accomplish great things, but it seemed to Eliza that adversity was a great motivator.

  She would ask about the childlessness.

  Then Eliza thought she would concentrate on Wingard’s hopes and aspirations. Her colleagues were already grilling him well on the issues and following his every campa
ign utterance. Eliza enjoyed discussing the less concrete. She would, to a large degree, take her cues from the candidate, picking up on what he expressed as most important to him, pulling out more when she could.

  She had her questions typed on index cards which she took with her into the makeup room. She wanted to go over them one more time before the candidate arrived. Lucille was waiting for her and complimented Eliza on her cream-colored suit, which was elegant in its simplicity. Eliza wore it well, her tall, willowy frame a designer’s dream. Eliza sat patiently as Lucille painted the canvas of Eliza’s face. Her wide-set blue eyes were fringed with dark thick lashes. Her straight, delicate nose was already sprinkled with a few freckles, the result of time spent with Janie in the park in the spring sun. Her mouth was full enough that Lucille did not have to pencil it larger.

  When Lucille finished with the blush, lipstick and eye pencil, Eliza felt even better prepared to take on Senator Wingard. She looked good and she knew it.

  Eliza had decided to meet Wingard in the KEY lobby, greeting him as he arrived. She was well aware that some correspondents might play the head game of showing up after the interviewee, flexing some mental muscle by keeping the subject waiting. Eliza felt that didn’t play. It could create adversarial tension right away. Instead, Eliza had found the old adage to be true. When she could, she used honey.

  Wingard’s black limousine pulled up in front of the broadcast center. Secret Service agents were in place on the sidewalk and inside the lobby. One agent opened the car door and out popped the balding head of Nate Heller followed closely by the senator.

  Presence. He’s got it, Eliza thought, observing the usually unimpressed KEY workers clustered in the lobby craning for a look at the handsome candidate. She inhaled as she walked over to the heavy revolving door. Wingard pushed through, his spare hand buttoning his jacket.

  “Eliza! It’s great to see you. I saw you in the audience at Miracle House the other morning.”