by Stuart Woods
Will took the check from Kitty and put both checks in his inside jacket pocket. “And I also want to thank the beautiful and talented Charlene Joiner for her continuing support of our party and her generous donation of a million dollars to the Democratic National Committee. I’ll bet no Academy Award winners are doing that for the Republicans!”
Charlene tried to get up, but Kitty was standing behind her chair, blocking her move.
Finally, with a wave, Will was escorted from the room by a rear entrance and was whisked back to his suite in a golf cart with Kitty. “Nice work,” he said to Kitty as he opened the two envelopes and gave the checks to her. Then he noticed a note in one of the envelopes.
“Remember how good it was between us?” Charlene had written. He did. “I’ll be at the back entrance to the Presidential Suite twenty minutes after you leave the dinner.”
Will tore the note into small pieces and handed them to Kitty for disposal. “Tell the Secret Service to double the guard on the back door,” he said to her, “and to be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if Charlene knows jujitsu.”
24
THE FOLLOWING MORNING WILL WALKED WITH HIS SECRET SERVICE DETAIL THROUGH the gardens of the hotel to the parking lot where his limousine was to be waiting. The Secret Service would have much preferred the car to come in the back way to his suite, but the driveway had been torn up by workmen repairing a water main.
He walked over the bridge that straddled the little pond with the swans and came to the end of the awning. The car was not there.
A Secret Service agent was on his radio immediately. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, there was an accident on Stone Canyon Road, and the car was held up for a couple of minutes. It will be right here.”
“It’s all right,” Will said. Then he heard the click of running high heels on the bridge behind him and a female voice, shouting.
“Mr. President!”
He turned to see Charlene Joiner running toward him. A Secret Service agent stepped in front of her, and she ran into him with a sound like a deer striking an oak.
“Will!”
Will sighed. “It’s all right,” he said to the agent. “Let her through.”
Charlene strode quickly toward him, and he held up a hand. She grabbed it and pressed it to her considerably exposed bosom. “Please, Will, I just need a moment.”
“What is it, Charlene?” he asked, attempting to disengage his hand from her left breast.
“It’s Larry,” she said. “I know it’s early to be talking about this, but once you’re reelected, you can pardon him.”
“Pardon him?” Will asked, incredulous.
“Yes, you can do it without political consequences, once you’re reelected.”
“Charlene, the man is a rapist and murderer, and I will never, ever loose him upon an unsuspecting citizenry.”
“Will, Larry has done nearly ten years,” she said, and a tear trickled from the corner of an eye and down her cheek. “Please do the humanitarian thing. I’m going to set him up in a little business, and he can live a quiet and respectable life.”
“Charlene,” he said, finally recovering his hand from her bosom, “I will not pardon Larry Moody, and if you ever so much as mention him to me again I will not speak to you further, under any circumstances, and I don’t care how much money you give the party. I hope that’s perfectly clear.” The car rolled up, and an agent quickly had the door open. “Good-bye, Charlene,” Will said with a wave, and dove into the car. He looked back through the darkened glass as they drove away, and she was standing there, waving.
AIR FORCE ONE TOOK OFF half an hour later from Van Nuys Airport, and Will was very happy to be putting the entire country between himself and Charlene Joiner, though he was not sure it was enough. He had a long day’s travel ahead, with campaign stops in Denver, St. Louis, and Indianapolis on the way back to Washington, and there was work to deal with in his office between stops. It was dark when Marine One set down on the White House lawn.
“Where’s Kate?” he asked Kitty as they got off the copter.
“On the way in from McLean,” she said. “She should be here in twenty minutes.”
“Call her and tell her we’re having Martin Stanton to dinner in the quarters this evening,” he said. “Tell her she can take her shoes off.”
“Will do,” Kitty replied, flipping open her cell phone.
Will’s own cell vibrated on his belt, and he opened it. “Yes?”
“It’s Sam Meriwether, Mr. President,” his campaign manager said. “The Senate confirmed Martin Stanton as vice president a couple of minutes ago. We kept them here late to get it done.”
“That’s great news, Sam. Thank you for calling.”
“He’s at the White House now. I suggest a swearing-in ceremony in the East Room tomorrow morning, then Marty can head west for Mike Rivera’s swearing-in. We’re lining up half a dozen stops in California for him after that. There’s a real celebration going on among Hispanics in L.A. and San Diego, and we want to take advantage of that mood.”
“Good idea. Have you cleared my schedule for the swearing-in?”
“We have to move only one half-hour appointment with the Pakistani ambassador and the secretary of state to tomorrow afternoon.”
“Have the secretary call the ambassador personally about that. I don’t want him to feel shunted aside when we shunt him aside.”
“Right. That’s all. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Bye-bye.” Will put away his cell phone and continued to the family quarters.
Martin Stanton was sitting before the fire when Will walked in. “Congratulations, Mr. Vice President,” Will said, shaking his hand. “That went about as smoothly as we could have hoped for. Have you talked to Sam Meriwether?”
“Yes, Will, and thank you again for the appointment. Where’s Kate?”
“She’ll be here in a few minutes. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’ll have some of that bourbon you like,” he replied.
Will tossed his jacket on a chair, loosened his tie, and went to the bar.
“I hear you handled Charlene Joiner nicely last night.”
“Yes, but not so well this morning.” Will told him about the early-morning encounter.”
“She really expected you to pardon the son of a bitch?”
“Charlene is a force of nature,” Will said, “and she’s accustomed to getting what she wants. Did you know she went to Atlanta and screwed the governor of Georgia to get Moody’s death sentence commuted?”
“I’d heard that, but I thought it was just a bawdy joke.”
“Nope. The embarrassing thing is, I facetiously suggested she do that, just to get her off my back. I was astonished when she actually pulled it off . . . ah, so to speak.”
Stanton laughed. “That’s unbelievable.”
“So is Charlene,” Will said, sipping his drink. “Oh, don’t mention her when Kate gets here.”
“Right.”
“Don’t mention who?” Kate said, closing the door behind her and kicking off her shoes.
“Never mind,” Will said.
“Congratulations, Marty,” Kate said, pointing at the bar. “Will, I’ve got to talk business for a minute. You want to go down to the double O?” They had a rule about not talking business in the family quarters.
“Oh, go ahead,” Will said.
“It’s not good news. We’ve got a report from a previously reliable source in Pakistan that the nuclear warhead taken from the last of the missile sites, south of Islamabad, has disappeared and has, possibly, fallen into the wrong hands.”
“Oh, shit,” Will muttered.
25
THE PRESIDENT AND VICE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES AND THE DIRECTOR OF the Central Intelligence Agency dined on the coffee table, sitting on the floor. The White House kitchen had sent up rack of lamb, new potatoes, and haricots verts, with apple pie for dessert.
“I suppose,” Will said to Kate, “you’ve alerted the Jo
int Chiefs about this warhead, so they can alert their intelligence people.”
“Yes, and I have an eight-o’clock meeting with them tomorrow morning,” she said. “I don’t think you should attend yet. If word got out, it would get the media all stirred up. As it is, we can call it an unsubstantiated rumor, which it pretty much is.”
“Then let’s say no more about it this evening,” Will said, “and just enjoy our dinner.” He tasted the California cabernet and poured them all a glass.
THEY HAD FINISHED their dinner and were on brandy when the phone rang. Will picked it up. “Yes?” He punched the hold button and turned to Stanton. “For you—your wife.”
“I’ll take it in my bedroom,” Stanton said, getting to his feet.
“HELLO?”
“Marty?”
“Yes.”
“I hope I’ve called at an inconvenient time,” she said, and there was acid in her voice.
“I’m having dinner with the Lees. What’s wrong?”
“I had a meeting with my lawyers this afternoon. They want me to hire a forensic accountant.”
“What’s a forensic accountant?” Stanton asked, and he had an idea he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“That’s who a party in a divorce hires when she believes the other party is hiding money from her.”
“Betty, have I ever lied to you?”
“I’m beginning to wonder about that.”
“Why do you think I’m hiding money?”
“My lawyer says that, because you have family ties in Mexico, it’s very likely that you have money hidden there.”
“I’ve never lied to your lawyer, either. I gave him a complete and highly detailed financial statement, accompanied by all the backup documents, and nothing was omitted.”
“How about that vintage Cadillac you were born in? I’m told that’s worth a lot of money. California is a community-property state, you know.”
“Yes, I know that, and that car is not community property. It’s been in my family since a year before I was born.”
“How about brokerage accounts?”
“You have my brokerage statements. And by the way, the market is way down at the moment, so we’ll have to get current values when we sign the settlement.”
“So you’re going to try to screw me out of even more money?”
“Betty, you get half of my net worth. If you’d signed the settlement a month ago, when my net worth was higher, you’d have gotten more money. Even your lawyer advised you to sign then.”
“I wasn’t ready,” she said.
“Then you’ll have to accept the responsibility for that. I’ve done all I’m required to do, all I’ve agreed to do.”
“Then why didn’t you announce the divorce at the hearing, the way you said you were going to.”
“The president’s people decided it would be better to wait until I’m sworn in.”
“And when is that?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“And, of course, I’m not invited to Washington for that.”
“You told me you didn’t want to come to Washington.”
“So I can’t change my mind?”
“It’s too late now.”
“So what about this money you’ve hidden? Where is it?”
“Betty, neither you nor your lawyer has the slightest reason to think I’ve hidden money. Why would I put money in a Mexican bank?”
“Because you could.”
“Betty, I can only give you my word that I have no money that isn’t included in that financial statement. If you aren’t willing to accept that, then there’s nothing more I can do. I’ll ask my lawyer to call your lawyer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to dinner. Good-bye.” He hung up, and he was sweating. He was glad he wasn’t in Sacramento, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to strangle his wife. She had been reasonable up to now, but she seemed to have become deranged. Perhaps it was that she was being egged on by a mercenary divorce lawyer. He hoped that was all there was to it.
26
WILL WAS WAKENED FROM A SOUND SLEEP BY A HEAVY OBJECT BEING DROPPED ON his abdomen from what seemed like a great height, making a whomp noise. “Huh?” he managed to say after he had gotten his breath back.
Kate was fully dressed. “Got your picture in the paper,” she said. “Enjoy!” She slammed the bedroom door on her way out.
Will struggled to sit up in bed. The object that had struck him was the combined weights of The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Wall Street Journal, the Los Angeles Times, and the New York Daily News. A headline from the News screamed at him: PREXY PAWS STAR. This was accompanied by a half-page full-color photograph of him with his hand on Charlene Joiner’s left breast. Will flung the newspaper across the room, just as the butler was entering with his breakfast on a tray.
The butler dodged the paper just in time. “Good morning, Mr. President,” he said, setting the tray in Will’s lap.
“Good morning,” Will replied. “Sorry about the newspaper.”
“Quite all right, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
The man left, and Will began searching for the TV remote control among the covers. By the time he found it and turned on the set, his breakfast was getting cold. He looked at the tray: a single, poached egg on dry toast, a small glass of orange juice, and a pot of coffee. He began eating as the Today show popped onto the TV screen.
“. . . and the president managed to get himself photographed in a compromising situation with Charlene . . . ”
Will switched to Good Morning America. “. . . Joiner, Hollywood’s biggest sex symbol,” the program continued. Will switched off the TV set and attacked the lonely egg.
WILL ENTERED the Oval Office at the stroke of eight o’clock. His top campaign staff were waiting, sipping coffee and eating Danish. Will grabbed a cheese Danish and poured himself some coffee. “Morning, everyone,” he said.
“You’ve seen the papers?” Tom Black asked.
“You mean the picture of me with Charlene Joiner’s breast in my hand?”
“That’s the one.”
“I put out my hand to hold her off,” Will said. “She walked right into it.”
“Funny there was a photographer on station at that very moment,” Sam Meriwether said.
“Yeah, funny,” Will said.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Moss Mallet said. “In the past, every time your name has been linked with Charlene’s, your polls have gone up.”
“This time my hand was linked with her breast,” Will said. “That ought to make me the most popular man in the country.”
“With men,” Kitty Conroy said. “Women will want to kill both of you.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Moss said.
“As long as they get Charlene first,” Will said. “We’re going to have to take further steps to see that she doesn’t get near me again between now and the election.”
“What sort of steps?” Sam asked.
“I ordered Kitty to tell the Secret Service to shoot her, but Kitty failed me.”
“Mea culpa,” Kitty said.
“Charlene has this new thing,” Will said. “She wants me to pardon Larry Eugene Moody.”
There was laughter in the room.
“It’s funny to everybody but Charlene,” Will said. “And when she wants something, it’s very hard to stop her.”
“What is it you want done?” Tom asked.
“The first thing is, we have to be sure she is not on the guest list for any White House dinner. If she turns up here, Kate will shoot her and save the Secret Service the trouble.”
“Done,” Kitty said, making a note.
“It’s not enough just to screen the guest lists for her name,” Will said. “She’s perfectly capable of sneaking in here on the arm of some invited guest. In those circumstances it would be very hard to stop her.”
“I think what we have to do,” Tom said, “is t
o start a sort of Charlene Watch. If we know where she is at every moment, we can sound the alarm if she gets within a mile of you.”
“Within a hundred miles of me,” Will said. “But don’t go hiring any private detectives. That would not look good on the campaign fund’s reporting forms.”
“We’ll do it with volunteers,” Tom said.
“That might work,” Kitty said, “if they’re male volunteers.”
“Please, please,” Will said, “don’t let the press track this back to the campaign. Tell the volunteers that if they get caught, they’ll have to plead to stalking her.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Tom said. “If she gets close, we’ll head her off at whatever pass she’s riding in from.”
“Thank you,” Will said, “I feel better now.”
Kitty held up a sheet of paper. “Here’s the veep’s statement.” She read it aloud. “Vice President Martin Stanton and his wife, Elizabeth, announced today that they are divorcing after twenty-nine years of marriage because of irreconcilable differences. The parting is mutual and amicable, and Mr. and Mrs. Stanton request that the media respect their privacy in this matter.”
“First question they’ll ask,” Tom interjected, “is, Why was the announcement not made during the hearings or before the swearing-in?”
“The delay was at the request of Elizabeth Stanton,” Kitty said. “She didn’t want their personal differences to overshadow an important time for the country.”
“Is that true?” Will asked.
“I spoke with her myself,” Kitty said. “She was very reasonable about requesting that, after I suggested she request it.”
Moss spoke up. “I give the story one news cycle,” he said. “Unless there’s another woman.”
“What about another man?” Kitty asked.
“Is Stanton gay?”
