Part of the mystery had already been revealed by the whistle-blower Jason Carson, painted in the media as a good guy whose conscience had prompted him to reveal the dirty dealings behind the scenes. The prominent headline had announced, “President Rich Scandal . . . $25 Million Payoff Revealed.”
The truth? That the majority of President Rich’s reelection campaign was based on a quid pro quo payoff—$25 million from Big Oil donated to his campaign in exchange for exclusive drilling rights in the Arctic. Sandstrom had been the hub of directing that payoff, with the majority of funds coming from AF.
Sarah frowned. Public accusations had flown since the release of that news. Will had his hands full untangling the continuing media mess.
But the complete answer was not yet revealed. Someone else—or multiple persons—had something big to hide. Darcy and Jon would keep digging until they found it, even if Sarah’s hands were technically tied with her job transition. But she would still do everything in her power to reveal the dirty dealings behind the scenes.
Her eyes narrowed. Even if it does go all the way to the top of the barrel. To the person who nominated me for this position.
If there was one thing she’d learned from her father, it was to never give up. His persistence drove her crazy sometimes, but it had also left an impression on her like wet cement when she was young. That same character quality had hardened to flintlike determination as she grew older.
Especially now, with the welfare of an entire nation at risk, Sarah would never give up. She would always persist in doing the right thing.
3
NEW YORK CITY
Will held up a finger before he and Drew headed into their dinner meeting with AF’s chairman of the board, Frank Stapleton. “I need to make a quick call.”
“Laura.” Drew nodded.
Whenever Will was troubled about anything in his family, he talked first to his wife, Laura. It was a fact of life Drew knew and understood.
Laura picked up on the second ring. After telling her about his short conversation with Sarah, he concluded, “I think she feels I don’t believe she can do it. But you know that’s not it at all.”
“I know,” Laura said. “But honestly, what else could she think? Will, you know you’re going to have to tell her sometime.”
“Drew says the same thing.” He cast a wry glance at Drew standing a few feet away.
The enigmatic Drew clearly caught the message. A smile flickered across his normally impassive face.
“And he’s right,” she shot back. Then, in a gentler tone, she added, “But I know you’ve got to get your dad and mom on the same page first.”
“So what do I do in the meanwhile? Sarah had a tough enough day without me—”
“I took care of it hours ago.”
“What? You talked to her? Told her about Sean? Why I’m nervous about this appointment? But—”
“No,” she inserted over his rapid-fire questions. “I ordered flowers. They should be in her hotel room by the time she gets there. The card says, ‘We believe in you.’”
That was so Laura, anticipating what Sarah would be feeling.
He sighed. “Thanks. How did you—”
“Nearly two decades of marriage to you, that’s how. And I believe in you too. So quit stalling. Get to that meeting so you can get yourself home to me and the kids.”
It was vintage Laura—straightforward, no-nonsense, taking care of matters. After their first summer together at Chautauqua, there had never been any doubt in Will’s mind that she loved him or that she’d always be 100 percent in his court.
He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Funny how she was the only one who could order him around and get away with it.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Now that Sarah was cozily settled into the Ritz Carlton in Georgetown and a few hours distanced from the Judiciary Committee grilling, she thought of all the things she could have said. For example, when Senator Hoyt had gone after Sarah’s handling of the Martin Corp case in the DOJ’s Criminal Division, Sarah would have given a million bucks to be able to say what was really in her head: “With all due respect, Senator, my methods may have been a bit off the books, but I closed that case in a year. A far better record than the three years you’ve been dealing with your state’s mishandling of funds, especially in your office.”
She grinned, thinking of the shock on the haughty senator’s face. The trouble Sarah could have gotten in might have been worth it.
But she was a Worthington, after all. Everything she did, small or large, had inestimable consequences and leaked to the press. She didn’t need to make unnecessary enemies. Even more, Thumper’s motto, taught by his father in Bambi, still resonated with her: “If you can’t say nothin’ nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”
In the DOJ Sarah had realized how important it was to keep her mouth shut about many things, especially in her role at the Criminal Division, where letting information slip to the wrong person could end a career or let a bad guy go free.
Now, as she put together the clues of the growing mystery and thought of where she ultimately wanted to end up in her own career, she vowed to be even more careful about what she shared, and with whom.
NEW YORK CITY
“Watch your back,” Laura had warned Will before she’d ended their call. She and Drew were the only ones besides Will who knew that Frank Stapleton, a former business mentor of Will’s, couldn’t be trusted. Stapleton was still chairman of the board at American Frontier, and Will, as CEO, was entrenched in working with him for now. As a GOP kingmaker and the head of City Capital, the wealthiest banking enterprise in the Western hemisphere, Stapleton was highly regarded by the board and had served on it for too many years to be ousted easily.
But Will knew where Stapleton really stood—with the highest force in the land, the president, even if that president didn’t have the best interests of the country in mind. Stapleton had thought he could bend Will to his bidding by grooming him as a potential GOP candidate for the presidency. But when Will had decided to run for Senate, he’d run as a Democrat. With the president screaming to Stapleton that he didn’t want a Worthington running against him in the next election, Stapleton had tried to dissuade Will in a friendly way from pursuing the race.
When that didn’t work, Stapleton had played it dirty behind the scenes. He, Sandstrom, and President Spencer Rich had colluded—though Will couldn’t yet prove it—to take Will out of any position of authority. First by undercutting him on the board of American Frontier, and then by ending his Senate bid early by setting up photos of Sean with the Polar Bear Bomber. It was ironic indeed that once Sandstrom was jailed and AF needed a new CEO, Stapleton had approached Will. Perhaps he thought he could control Will by baiting him with the prize he had wanted for years. But Will was no longer fooled by the seemingly straightforward good ol’ boy. Knowledge was power, and now Will secretly held that power over his former mentor.
Still, Will had to watch his back.
When Will and Drew entered Eleven Madison Park, Stapleton was already seated at one of the restaurant’s best tables, which was decorated with a stunning white-rose tree. He looked up, smiled, and got to his feet. After shaking their hands, he gestured toward their seats.
“Sit down, sit down.” Stapleton leaned toward Will. “Things are going well. You’ve stepped into the CEO role even more easily than I thought.”
Will bypassed the compliment. “We’ve made significant progress, but we have a long way to go.”
“Well, on the surface, things are really looking up for AF. We’ve pulled the company back from the brink. You’re doing a great job, Will,” Stapleton said.
Will and Drew exchanged glances as Stapleton moved his napkin to his lap.
“What you see on the surface isn’t always the truth,” Will said. “We all know that.”
“And how changeable things are,” Drew added. “People certainly are.”
Stapleton shifted uncomfor
tably and rearranged his napkin. “With you at the helm, the media is working for us again.”
“Again,” Will said, “we have a long way to go. We all know we can’t completely clean up the oil spill. That’s physically impossible. But we need to give it our best effort and figure out ways for it not to happen in the future.”
“Because of the yelling ecologists?” Stapleton shrugged. “They always yell. And as you know, I really don’t give a rat’s tail about the polar bears or any of that save-the-whales business.” He nodded to the waiter to refill his water goblet. Once the waiter had left, he continued. “What I do care about is the president’s approval rating dropping over that quid pro quo nonsense.”
Will raised a brow. “And that’s what you think it is? Nonsense? Seems to me there was a fairly direct connection between the campaign donation and AF getting approval awfully fast to drill in the Arctic.”
“None that can be proven,” Stapleton shot back. “And that’s what counts.”
Will tilted his head. “None that can be proven yet. And that’s what counts.”
“What happened in the past has a way of circling around to the present and influencing the future,” Drew stated.
Stapleton exhaled. “Well, I believe we can make our own path. Sometimes people don’t know what to believe until we tell them what to believe. Then that becomes their reality. Like the fact Americans in general have turned the corner in feeling positive again about American Frontier. Sure, we’ve made some mistakes, but we’ve stated publicly that we’re willing to do whatever we can to fix them. Frankly, that’s all we can do.” He eyed Will. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt for someone of your stature to assure them again that we’re doing all we can.”
“You mean instead of saying that we’ve been able to clean up only a small percentage of the oil, but we’re still working on making reparations in every area we can?” Will countered.
Stapleton spread his hands. “Look around you, Will. Nobody wants to hear the negative side, at least not for long. Think about the masses. They’ve got enough to deal with in their own lives. They need to know that companies like AF will provide gas to run their cars, to cook food, and to warm their houses. They don’t need to know the nitty-gritty of what we can’t fix.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “In waging any media battle, I’ve always found that honest talk is best. So that’s what I give them. And it’s working thus far.”
“Working for you,” Stapleton said. “But not necessarily for the stockholders.”
“Or for the president?” Drew added.
Stapleton frowned. “That too.”
“We present the facts and don’t hide anything,” Will insisted. “That’s the best and only way to go.”
“Agreed,” Drew put in quickly. “If there’s nothing to hide, there’s no fear of discovery.” He caught Stapleton’s gaze and held it. “We can forge ahead, no holds barred, to do all we can to solve the problem.”
“You ready to order?” Stapleton boomed. “All this talk is making me hungry.” He crooked his finger toward the waiter.
In that moment, Will’s and Drew’s eyes locked. Drew hid his smirk by taking a sip of water.
The rest of the dinner went smoothly. But Will noticed that although the usually voracious Stapleton made a great show of rearranging the poached lobster with escarole and almond on his plate, he didn’t eat much.
When Stapleton took his leave, Will swiveled toward Drew. “Must have had indigestion.”
“Indeed.” Drew’s eyes twinkled.
Will grinned all the way home. He couldn’t wait to tell Laura.
4
MAPUTO, MOZAMBIQUE
Sean couldn’t help himself. He called Sarah around midnight her time. He loved to get a rise out of his spunky sister.
“Figured you’d be settled in at the Ritz by now,” he said with enough volume to wake her from her groggy state. “So?”
“So, what?” There was a fumbling sound, then, “Sean, do you know what time it is?”
“Of course I do. That’s why I called. You know, tradition,” he joked. Then, in all seriousness, he added, “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”
“You bet.”
He smiled. So the process might have been nasty, but his sister still had her spunk. She was okay. “How did it go?”
“Remember when I stepped on that lionfish when we were wading in the Pacific?”
“Couldn’t forget it. I’ve never seen a dance like that before.”
“And you never will again.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yup, that bad.” She yawned. “But I certainly gave them a run for their money.”
“Now that’s my sister.” He laughed.
“Used a few of your negotiation tactics, even,” she added. “Worked like a charm.”
“You’re actually giving me some credit? Wow, you must have had a rough day.”
“I always give credit, when and if credit is due, dear brother.”
Yes, she was all right. She’d gone through one of the toughest days of her life, no doubt, but she’d kept her balance and sense of humor.
“That sounds like my sister.” He paused. “I’m glad you’re all right. Did they ask—”
“Anything about you or Will?” she finished. “Of course they did. But I gave them the same answer Will gives when he doesn’t want to talk about aborting the Senate race. And I mentioned that you temporarily dabbled in the idea of running for governor of New York, but then the press made more of it than it was. I said both of my brothers were settled into their respective jobs, so they might as well stop hunting for any skeletons in the closet.”
“What if they find out—”
“About the photos of you with the Polar Bear Bomber?” Again she finished his sentence. “Then we do what we Worthingtons do best. We answer the speculations with straightforward, truthful facts. People will choose what they believe. There’s nothing we can do about that.”
“But it might—”
“Sidetrack my AG position? Oh ye of little faith,” she told him. “Give your sister a bit more credit than that.”
“Always do,” he replied. “It’s just myself I doubt every once in a while.”
“Sean, I love you to the moon and back,” she murmured. “You know that, right?”
“I know that.”
“Okay, good. Now I’m hanging up on you because I need some shut-eye.”
The call ended.
He felt a twinge. Would her love for him and their easy relationship change in any way once she knew the other truth about him? Would it tear their family apart? Shake up everything she thought to be true about their parents, as it had for him?
Their father had been emphatic. He didn’t want Sarah to know, said there was no reason for her to know.
But Sean was torn about that. He’d kept a lot of secrets in his life, but rarely from his sister, who usually wheedled them out of him.
And this wasn’t a comfortable secret to keep.
A SECURE LOCATION
As usual, their call was brief.
“The game’s heating up with the players,” the caller reported. “It won’t be long before they’ll be forced to choose sides publicly.”
“Then we’ll see who plays it dirty and who plays it clean,” the man with the deep voice said.
“So we continue to follow the trail in the meanwhile.”
“Yes, see where it leads. All the way to the rabbit hole.”
“You may not like where we have to go or what we have to do to get results.”
“That has nothing to do with anything,” the man replied. “This is about revealing what needs to be revealed. Just get it done.”
“Will do.”
5
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Sarah awoke the next morning to a polite but insistent rapping on her door at the Ritz Carlton.
Dazed by more than the usual lack of sleep, she glanced toward the clock on the n
ight table—9:05 a.m. Had she really slept that long?
Yawning, she got out of bed and threw on the plush robe supplied by the hotel. Sleepily she peered out of the peephole. It looked like a breakfast delivery, only she hadn’t ordered it. Still, after barely being able to eat last night after a stressful day, she was ready. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.
She opened the door. On a white linen–covered bistro table was an assortment of bagels and cream cheese, a plateful of bacon, and a pot of coffee, accompanied by a petite, rainbow-colored bouquet. Within seconds, the efficient hotel attendants had placed the table and swiftly left her room.
Sarah brushed her curls out of her eyes and reached for the note. A little picker-upper. Jon.
She shook her head, amazed at his thoughtfulness. Such a good friend. How does he always know exactly what I need?
With Jon, there was no pushing, no questions of “How did it go?” like she got from her brothers and her father. Just a breakfast Jon knew was her favorite—cinnamon bagels, crispy, real bacon, and full-leaded coffee with no cream. The cheery flowers were a bonus to brighten her morning.
Life had been more complicated than usual lately with her flights back and forth between D.C. and her home in New York City. Jon’s note was a reminder of the importance of the little things. The fact he remembered her, even with his own chaos at the New York Times office, warmed her.
Her thoughts rested for a minute on her friend Darcy’s hints about giving Jon a chance.
“A chance for what?” Sarah had teased.
“You know what,” Darcy said. “You’re not stupid. And Jon’s gold-plated material. Not like that other—”
Sarah had cut Darcy off. But the idea had lingered in the fringes of her mind.
Maybe someday I will. She inhaled the nutty aroma of the coffee. Then again, maybe he’s just being nice.
After a failed romance with a jerk of a TV producer, Sarah wasn’t interested in dating anyone. But if she was, Jon Gillibrand would be the kind of guy she could see in her future. He wasn’t flashy, like most men who traveled in her circles. Yet she had been impressed with him from the moment Sean had introduced him. And since their work together on the Polar Bear bombing case, she’d seen even more of Jon’s integrity and caring heart.
A Primary Decision Page 3
