Cut and Thrust

by Stuart Woods

  “What did he say?”

  “He said the field had been narrowed to three candidates and all of them were making credible showings, so the chances of one of them winning on the first ballot were slim.”

  “He didn’t think at that point that Marty Stanton would make it?”

  “He thought Marty could, but he also thought there was a very good chance that he’d get caught with his pants down and implode. Well, he got caught, but the implosion isn’t complete yet, so he could still win.”

  “What does Sam Meriwether think the count is?”

  “Marty needs a hundred and thirty-five delegates out of two seventy to win on the first ballot and he has about a hundred and thirty-two. Willingham has about eighty-one and Otero has maybe fifty.”

  “And how many do you have, Kate?”

  “We’re figuring none.”

  “But surely—”

  “Most of the people who would vote for me on the first ballot are from primary states and are committed to the man who won their states, and by the time I got in, the others were pretty much committed. Sam thinks it’s better if we work on a worst-case basis, and that’s no delegates for me. I’ve no chance unless Marty fails to get a hundred and thirty-five. Then we’ll see.”

  “I have to admit,” Stone said, “it seems impossible.”

  “That’s what we want everybody to think,” Ann said, “until tomorrow night.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Pete Otero hasn’t called you,” Ann said. “I find that odd that he wouldn’t want your support.”

  “Pete knows he isn’t going to win the nomination, so he doesn’t need my support,” Kate said. “I’m sure that both Marty and Willingham have already met with him and I expect they’ve both offered him the vice president’s slot on the ticket. He’s smart not to commit. If he made the wrong move, then he’d miss eight years of being vice president, then a really good shot at the presidency. And if whoever gets the nomination loses in the general, Pete is first in line for the nomination four years from now. Remember Jack Kennedy at the 1956 election? He thought he’d get the vice president slot on the ticket, but Adlai Stevenson threw him a curve ball when he threw the vice presidential nomination open to the convention and Estes Kefauver won. But by that time Jack was as well known to the electorate as almost anybody in the party, and when Adlai lost, the nomination was wide open to him in 1960. Pete has patience and it may work well for him.”

  They ate their lunch talking mostly about everything but the convention. Stone saw Kate relaxing and he thought the change of subject probably did her good.

  —

  THEY WERE DONE with lunch and on coffee when the telephone buzzed and Stone answered.

  “Telephone for Mrs. Lee,” Manolo said.

  “Who’s calling?”

  “They wouldn’t say.”

  Stone pressed the hold button. “Mystery call for you, Kate. Do you want to take it?”

  “Who would know you were here?” Ann said.

  “Let’s find out,” Kate replied. She took the phone and pressed the button. “Kate Lee. Good morning—or afternoon, as it may be.” She listened for a moment. “All right, I agree—not even Will.” She listened some more. “How sure are you about this? Thank you for calling.” She hung up.

  No one said anything for a long moment.

  “Who was it?” Ann asked finally.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t say,” Kate said. She drank the last of her coffee. “Will you excuse me, please? I think I want to go and lie down for a little while. And, Ann, please cancel the rest of today’s schedule.”

  Ann’s face fell. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t think it will matter,” Kate said and got to her feet.

  They stood with her.

  “Thank you so much for lunch, Stone,” she said, then she walked toward the presidential cottage, and the two Secret Service agents standing a few yards away fell in a few paces behind her.

  “What do you suppose that was all about?” Stone asked.

  “I have absolutely no idea,” Ann replied. “Did you see her face? It had to be bad news if she canceled her schedule. She had half a dozen appointments with delegates this afternoon.”

  “She certainly didn’t seem elated.”

  “Somehow,” Ann said, “I have the feeling that the bottom has just dropped out of her world.”

  The convention opened at two P.M. and would finish in the early evening to allow for various scheduled events around town, including the fund-raiser in The Arrington’s amphitheater. The last two hours of the day were devoted to nominating speeches, one for each candidate. Stone didn’t bother to take his group to the hall; they could watch the speeches on TV, if they chose to, and have plenty of time to dress for the evening.

  Stone spent the early part of the afternoon reading, and close to five o’clock Ann found him in his study.

  “You through early?” Stone asked.

  “Yes, with Kate’s schedule canceled I had little to do. I thought I would watch the nominating speeches with you.”

  “Sounds exciting.” Stone switched on the TV. “Who’s nominating Kate?”

  “Bob Marcus, the junior senator from Georgia. He’ll be last.”

  They watched as a Virginia congressman nominated Mark Willingham. From what Stone knew of Willingham, he hardly recognized the man described in the nomination speech.

  A Colorado senator nominated Pete Otero, and much was made of the importance of the Hispanic vote in the general election.

  “Is Kate watching?” Stone asked.

  “I’m not sure, she was sleeping earlier, which is unlike her, but there’s a TV in the bedroom. Marty’s is next, and Governor Collins is nominating him.”

  The convention chairman approached the podium and hammered for order. “Fellow delegates,” he shouted, “we have a change in our program. Ladies and gentlemen, the vice president of the United States.”

  “Oh, God,” Ann said, “what is this? It’s completely out of order for Marty Stanton even to be in the hall, let alone speak!”

  “He must be desperate,” Stone said.

  “Look at those faces,” Ann said, pointing at the people on the floor of the convention. “They’re as baffled as I am.”

  The vice president approached the podium, wearing a dark suit and a broad smile. He waited for the applause to die but didn’t try to suppress it, then he began.

  “Mr. Chairman, delegates to the convention, honored guests, ladies and gentlemen,” he intoned. “I beg your indulgence for having requested to speak to you at this time and I thank Senator Robert Marcus of Georgia and Governor Richard Collins for yielding the platform to me. For many months I have been traveling this great country, speaking, debating, and, along the way, meeting most of you, and I have articulated my vision for the future of our country to the nation at large. I haven’t done quite as well as I had hoped.” This was followed by a shocked noise from the delegates.

  Ann sat up in her chair. “Jesus,” she said, “he’s pulling out! He’s going to throw the nomination to Willingham!”

  “That must be the news Kate got at lunch,” Stone said.

  “It couldn’t have been anything else. No wonder she was so devastated.”

  Stanton went on. “After long thought, much prayer, and some very good advice from some very good friends, I have decided not to seek the nomination of my party.”

  The audience reaction was a mixture of Nooos, cheers, and general shock.

  Chris Matthews’s voice-over came on. “That’s it,” he said, “the nomination is going to Willingham. This is completely unexpected. We all thought that Stanton would fight to the last delegate. He must have had some very bad news.”

  Stanton continued. “I have also given a great deal of thought to my next step,” he said, “and I have dec
ided to throw my support—and ask those delegates pledged to me to throw their support—to the candidate I know, from my personal experience, is supremely well qualified to lead our party to victory in the November election. My fellow Americans, it is my honor and privilege to place in nomination the next president of the United States, Katharine Lee!”

  The audience went nuts, the band started to play, and people with Kate Lee signs were, apparently spontaneously, marching up and down the aisles. Only the Virginia and New Mexico delegations sat in shocked silence.

  Ann pressed the speaker button on the phone on the table between Stone and her and dialed a number.

  “Hello?” a sleepy voice said.

  “Kate, wake up. Turn on the TV.”

  “I’m awake and the TV is on.”

  “Did you know about this?”

  “I’m sworn to secrecy. I couldn’t even tell Will. Uh-oh, I hear Will running up the stairs. Talk to you later!” She hung up.

  “Did you hear that?” Ann said.

  “I did,” Stone replied.

  “I’m overwhelmed,” Ann said. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I think I see the fine hand of Dick Collins in this,” Stone said. “I’ll bet he took Stanton aside and demolished his hopes. I wonder how he did that.”

  “I can guess,” Ann said. “I think he must have told Marty that a bunch of the California delegates were going to jump ship on the first ballot—and he may just have told him that his offer of the Senate seat was about to expire. Marty wouldn’t have had the guts to brazen it out through the first ballot and negotiate later.”

  “Shouldn’t you go and see Kate?” Stone asked.

  “No, she’s with Will. I don’t want to bust in on that. I’d better start making some calls, though. Do you mind if I do it here?”

  “Go right ahead,” Stone said.

  Ann’s cell phone rang. “Hello? Oh, Governor Otero, how are you? I’m sure she’d like to speak to you, but she and the president are sequestered at the moment. May I have her call you back a little later in the afternoon? Thank you for your patience.” She hung up. “I think that makes it official,” she said. “Pete Otero wants the number two spot and he’s going to be willing to trade his delegates for it.”

  “Kate has already said he would be her first choice,” Stone said.

  “I think we’re seeing history being made,” Ann said, then started making calls.

  Ann finished her calls and hung up.

  “Now what?” Stone asked.

  “Now I go see Kate. Come with me.”

  “All right.” Stone got up and followed her out of the house and across the back lawn and the road to the presidential cottage.

  Ann looked around the ground floor and returned. “She’s still upstairs with Will,” she said. “Let’s wait in the library.” She led the way.

  Stone took a seat on a sofa while Ann fielded calls on her cell phone, mostly from the press. “I didn’t know about it until it happened,” she said to one reporter. “No plans for a press conference now. You’ll be notified.” She hung up. “That was a typical conversation,” she said, switching off her phone before it rang again. They could hear the phones ringing in the office next door. Ann went in there, then came back. “Molly’s got it under control,” she said.

  “Why don’t you have a seat and take a breath,” Stone said, patting the sofa next to him. “Would you like a drink?”

  “I would,” said a voice from the door. “So would I,” said another.

  They looked up to see the first lady and the president, closing the door behind them.

  Ann ran to hug Kate, and Stone stood up. “Congratulations, Kate,” he said, pecking the offered cheek. He shook Will’s hand, too. Then he went to the bar and filled everyone’s order. Finally, they were seated.

  “Governor Otero called,” Ann said. “He wants to meet.”

  “I don’t want to see him,” Kate said.

  “Then will you call him? I think it would be a good idea.”

  “Then get him on the phone, please.”

  Ann dialed the number on the phone nearest Kate and handed it to her. She pressed the speaker button and set the phone down.

  “This is Pete Otero,” a man’s voice said.

  “Hello, Governor, it’s nice of you to call,” Kate replied.

  “I wanted to congratulate you, Director. I don’t know how this happened, but whatever you did, it was effective.”

  “I myself am not sure how it happened,” Kate said, “but I expect someone will tell me pretty soon.”

  “Director, I’m at your disposal,” Otero said. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Governor, I think the best thing to do is to continue to follow the published schedule of the convention and hold the balloting tomorrow night. I expect we’re all curious to find out what the delegates do.”

  “Are you going to choose a running mate before then?” the governor asked.

  “No, Governor, I’m not. I don’t want to get into the business of trading appointments for ballots. I want to see how the voting goes and, if I’m nominated, then I’ll consider my options.”

  “I understand completely,” Otero said.

  “Would you and your wife like to be my guests at the fund-raiser at The Arrington tonight?”

  “We had planned to attend and we’d be delighted to join you.”

  “I’ll see you then.” Kate said goodbye and hung up. “Ann, will you call Mark Willingham’s campaign manager and Marty Stanton and ask them to join me in my box tonight? I invited Governor and Mrs. Collins a couple of days ago.”

  “I’ll see that the furniture is arranged correctly in the box,” Stone said.

  Kate found a sheet of paper and made some notes, then handed it to Stone. “Here’s the seating plan. I’d like the seats marked with the names.”

  Stone looked at the sheet. Will was on one side of Kate, he and Ann were on the other. The Bacchettis and the Eagles were on the far side of Will, and the Collinses, Stanton and guest, the Willinghams, and the Oteros were in the row behind.

  Stone went and called the hotel manager, faxed him the seating plan, then returned to the library. Sam Meriwether had arrived and made himself a drink.

  “Sam,” Kate said, “what do you expect in the balloting?”

  “Are you going to pick a running mate before then?” the senator asked.

  “No. I told Otero I didn’t want to get into swapping jobs for delegates and that seemed fine with him.”

  “My people are calling every delegate now,” he said. “We should have an estimate within the hour.”

  “Director,” Ann said, “can you tell us now who was on the phone with you at lunchtime?”

  “I suppose I can now,” Kate said. “It was Dick Collins.”

  “Did he tell you how all this came to pass?”

  “He didn’t. He just told me that Marty was going to nominate me.” She turned to Will. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you—Dick swore me to secrecy.”

  “He did a great job of keeping it under his hat,” Sam said. “It’s my bet that only he, Marty, and you knew what was going to happen. I’ll bet the chairman didn’t know until it was Dick’s turn to speak.”

  “It’s my guess,” Ann said, “that the governor took the vice president aside and told him that some California delegates were going to jump to you and that the offer of the Senate appointment was expiring.”

  “If he did, that was a masterful move,” Kate said. “Dick never even told me what he was going to do after the first ballot. If that’s what happened, then I’m very impressed with him. Stone, what was your impression of him at your meeting at Peter’s house?”

  “Calm and entirely in control,” Stone said. “That was quite a contrast with the vice president when I spoke to him later. I
’ve always liked Collins. I’m impressed with his record and now I admire him.”

  “That pretty much speaks for me, too,” she said.

  A phone call came for Sam Meriwether and he took it outside the room. He came back five minutes later. “Our head count put us with a hundred and eleven delegates for Kate—that’s the great majority of the vice president’s count—sixty-nine for Willingham, and fifty-seven for Otero. About forty-three are undecided. I’d say we’re looking very good.” Another call came for him and he left again.

  “You’re going to have to get a majority of the undecideds,” Will said to Kate. “It may not happen on the first ballot.”

  Sam Meriwether returned. “That was Dick Collins. Ann, your take on what Dick did was right on the money. He’s now personally calling all the undecideds in the California delegation. There are fifteen or so.”

  “Let’s hope he swings them all,” Will said. “That will make it a lot easier for Kate.”

  Kate stood up, and everyone stood up with her. “Let’s all go and get ready for tonight,” she said.

  Stone and Ann were getting dressed for the gala when Manolo buzzed him for a phone call.

  “Mr. Barrington, that fellow from the Secret Service is on line one.”

  “Thank you, Manolo.” Stone pressed the button. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Barrington, this is Secret Service Special Agent Mervin Beam.”

  “Good evening, Agent Beam.”

  “Good evening. I’m in the hotel manager’s office, and he tells me that you have rearranged the seating plan for your box at tonight’s performance. Is that correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t do,” Beam said. “I had previously done a seating plan for security reasons, and I must insist that you return to that plan.”

  “Agent Beam,” Stone said, “the seating plan I faxed to the hotel manager was drawn up by Mrs. Lee herself. It was done carefully and thoughtfully, and I suggest that you conform your security arrangements to her seating plan.”