The Running Mate (A Jack Houston St. Clair Thriller)

by Andrew Delaplaine

  “That’s right, Brian,” Gabby piped in. “Traditionally, it takes a day while the nominee decides who his running mate will be.”

  “And several names have been bandied about leading into the convention,” said Brian. “What have you heard down on the floor, Leon?”

  “We have three or four names that have been leaked from various Mowbray campaign insiders, and these insiders tell us—very emphatically—that Senator Dumaine’s name is not on that list.”

  “We’ll certainly be talking about that for the next few days. In fact,” Brian said with an offhand smile, “we’ll begin talking about it in a couple of minutes when we come back after these messages.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER 17

  Tim kept the phone jammed up against his ear while he waded through people coming and going, in and out of the suite, till he was outside in the hallway.

  Here, too, the scene was crowded, men and women rushing up and down like crazed ants in a colony. He nodded as if he were listening to a conversation, and when he passed people he knew, he’d say things like, “Well, I’m not sure...” till they passed him. He continued in this fashion till he went around a corner to the bank of elevators and nodded his way through the Secret Service detail stationed there (including Agent Rodriguez) to check people in as they came off the elevator.

  He didn’t have to press the Down button. He merely looked up and saw the Down arrow light up and when the door slid aside, got in and went down.

  Although his destination was just the floor directly below, he didn’t touch the button, going all the way to the lobby. He got busy texting his friend Sid, deputy operations manager in the Mowbray campaign. His text read:

  “As arranged, meet me service elevator #4 off kitchen in 10.”

  Sidney Eismann and Tim had gone to college together, though Sid was a freshman when Tim was a junior. They’d had spirited debates as they fought their ideological battles and this continued even after they left college.

  Tim had had a conversation with Sid that afternoon outlining his plan of action if Mowbray took the nomination. Sid agreed Tim had the right idea, and said he’d make the connection Tim needed if he got the text message Tim had just sent.

  Tim emerged from the crowded elevator into an even more crowded hotel lobby. He worked his way to the far end of the lobby where he went into the awkwardly named Café d’Elegant. He brushed aside the maitre d’ and headed toward the kitchen door.

  Just as he arrived, Sid Eismann stuck his head out of one of the swinging doors and gave him a hand wave and a nod over his shoulder.

  Though they’d been out of college quite a while now, Sid still had the excited look of a kid in a candy shop, his eyebrows moving up and down like two excited caterpillars ready to begin a session of frenzied mating.

  “Tim, I really gotta hand it to ya! You got the right idea.”

  “Think he’ll go for it?”

  “He said ‘Yes’ to the meeting, didn’t he?”

  Tim followed Sid and a security guard who led the way back through the kitchen to the tunnel that led to the service elevators, all guarded by Secret Service agents.

  Their badges were checked and they got into Service Elevator No. 4 and zipped up to the thirty-third floor.

  They came out and Sid hustled Tim into a private room where they were alone. Then he got on his cell.

  “Hey! Sid here. Tell the old man we’re ready.”

  Sid ended the call.

  “You taking me to him?”

  “He’s coming to you—less people will see you that way. It’s not like we can parade Senator Dumaine’s Body Man into the Democratic nominee’s presence five minutes after he steals the nomination from your boss.”

  Tim smiled.

  “Yeah, guess not.”

  “People might think you wanna be my guy’s Body Man since your guy lost!” Sid roared with laughter.

  Tim laughed back. Considering what was going on between him and Bill, it was funny.

  Sid settled down and a serious look came over his face. Just as he was about to say something, the door to the adjoining room opened and Henry Westmoreland, Mowbray’s campaign manager, stuck his head through.

  “Sid?”

  “We’re here.”

  Westmoreland glanced at Tim, then came through the door and closed it behind him.

  “He’s right in there, Tim.”

  “Thanks,” Tim said, heading toward the door.

  Westmoreland reached out and had his hand on the doorknob, but paused to turn around. He glanced at Sid, who bit his lip.

  “Isn’t this a little ... unusual?” said Westmoreland.

  “I suppose, yes, but I think it’s the right thing to do,” said Sid.

  Westmoreland shot a glance over his shoulder at Tim, and Tim could sense that Sid had gone out on a limb to get this meeting with Mowbray, and that he’d had to go over Westmoreland’s head to do that. Tim felt like he owned Sid one.

  Westmoreland shook his head ever so slightly, indicating he didn’t think it was the right thing to do at all.

  “Well, maybe you’re right.” He cocked his head to one side. “But then, maybe you’re not.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Tim said, flashing Westmoreland the most dazzling smile he could muster under the circumstances.

  Westmoreland opened the door and led the way into a large bedroom where Tim saw Mowbray sitting in a chair at a writing table.

  Tim’s very first impression was that Mowbray was tired. Exhausted. Bone-weary. He had the same shock of snowy-white hair that the President sported. Tim wondered if it was dyed. He had rolls of jowly folds in his face, giving him the impression of a good-natured blood hound that had been with the same family for years. His droopy sad eyes were all the more lovable because they reinforced the impression of a blood hound. Slow, but loyal and sweet.

  But in an instant, Mowbray immediately jumped out of his chair and came over to Tim, reaching out to shake his hand.

  “Hello, Tim. I don’t think I’ve ever met you.”

  “I don’t think you have, Governor. It’s an honor. And my congratulations on winning the nomination.”

  “Thank you, son.” He gave Tim a hard, probing look. “Usually, a candidate makes a phone call to concede, not send a messenger.”

  “I’m not here to bring the Senator’s concession. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  “This is highly irregular, though, isn’t it?”

  “I think the time calls for it, Governor.”

  “Well, Sid said I just had to take this meeting, though Henry here didn’t seem to think it was that urgent.” Mowbray went over to a bar set up on a sideboard and poured himself an inch of bourbon and dropped a couple of cubes into the glass. He turned to face Tim. “What is so urgent, Tim?”

  Tim’s eye flickered and Mowbray caught his meaning.

  “Why don’t you give us a minute, Henry?”

  Tim heard a tsk-tsk behind his back as Westmoreland expressed his annoyance and displeasure with being sent away, but when he heard the click of the doorknob catching as it closed, he relaxed a little bit.

  “What’ll you have to drink, Tim?”

  “A vodka on the rocks would be nice, sir.” Mowbray turned to the bar. “I’ll get it, Governor,” he said, rushing over.

  “No, I can pour vodka over some ice, Tim,” Mowbray smiled as he turned around with the drink.

  “You can also make Senator Dumaine your running mate,” Tim blurted out.

  Mowbray shot him a sharp look, but said nothing. He went back to his chair by the writing table and sat down, placing his glass on the polished mahogany, indicating at the same time for Tim to sit on the bed. He took a piece of paper out of the drawer, folded it, and placed it under his glass.

  “My mother would kill me if I put a naked glass on a nice table like this,” he said with a smile Tim thought was very tender and vulnerable. But the moment passed instantly, and Mowbray turned a hard gaze on Tim. “N
ow then, what is all this crap about? Sneaking in back doors.”

  There was a light tap-tap on the door.

  “What is it?”

  The door opened a crack and Westmoreland stuck his head in.

  “Sorry to bother you, Governor, but Senator Dumaine is on the line.”

  “Tell him I’m in the toilet or something, but to hold, and then put him through to me here in a minute.”

  “Right,” Westmoreland said, and the door closed.

  “That’s the call I’m expecting.”

  “Yes, sir. But he doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “Just what the hell are you doing here, boy?”

  It was all or nothing: Tim let it all out in a rush.

  “I think you should take the offensive against St. Clair right now, tonight. Don’t wait till the next day to name your running mate. Do it now! Tonight! Tell Senator Dumaine that he’s the guy you want. Together, there’s no doubt in my mind that you can beat St. Clair. The combination of your experience and Senator Dumaine’s youth—your strength in the West, his in the Northeast—you can’t lose. But ask him to be your running mate tonight, and take him down there with you when you accept the nomination. All America—all the world—is watching tonight—but they won’t be watching tomorrow when you’d normally make your pick. I really think the election is at stake, and Governor, all the campaign rhetoric and bullshit aside, the Senator really does admire and respect you.”

  Mowbray blinked a couple of times. He looked like he’d just been slapped across the face. But he recovered.

  “And he doesn’t know you’re here?”

  The phone on the writing table rang.

  “If he did, I’d get fired.”

  “You really do believe in him, don’t you?”

  Tim suddenly realized he hadn’t been summarily dismissed—or thrown out on his ass.

  “I believe in both of you together, sir, that’s what I believe in. I believe we should go out there and win the election. Not just stroking your ego. It’s about more than us. It’s about the country.”

  The phone rang again.

  Mowbray picked it up, his eyes riveted to Tim’s.

  “Hello, Bill?”

  Tim was close enough to hear Bill say, “Governor, I’d like to congratulate you on your victory tonight and offer you my complete support and assistance in the campaign to come—”

  Mowbray was still staring at Tim when he cut off Dumaine.

  “Thank you. But listen, Bill—I want to cut to the chase. I think we’d make a great team—an unbeatable team—in November. I think the two of us can beat St. Clair.” Still, his eyes were tight on Tim’s. “And I know you’re a realistic man. I know you’ve got a top spot in the Senate, Foreign Relations Committee and all that, and that a lot of people will tell you you’d be crazy to take the Vice Presidential slot. But I want you to do it, and do it now! I’m old, Bill, and I’m probably just a one-term President. But even if I go two terms, you’ll be in line to succeed me.”

  On the other end, Bill said, “Isn’t this supposed to wait till tomorrow?”

  Mowbray was up on his feet now, excited. He picked up the cradle of the phone and walked around the room, facing out the window into the night.

  “Let’s do it, Bill! We can do it! All of America is watching right now—all the world—and if I go down there in a half hour and accept this nomination with you by my side, we’ll knock their socks off and you know it. Nobody’s ever brought a Vice Presidential nominee down with him when he accepted the nomination—in either party. I want a young, energetic campaigner like you. I like your ideas. I want to unify the party. You and I can do that together—tonight. The fight for the nomination is over, but the election isn’t. What do you say?”

  Mowbray turned to look at Tim, but Tim had disappeared.

  “Can you give me a few minutes, Governor?”

  “I’ll give you thirty of ’em. I’m telling my people to announce that I’m coming down in thirty minutes to accept the nomination. I want you there to receive the Vice Presidential nomination by acclamation. You call me, hear?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll call you in ten.”

  “Right!” Mowbray rang off. “Henry! Get in here!”

  * * *

  CHAPTER 18

  Back in the Dumaine suite, Bill gently put the phone back in its receiver and turned to face the dozen or so people in the room with him. Tim just slipped in the rear, unnoticed. All eyes were focused on Dumaine.

  Dumaine had a light chuckle when he spoke.

  “You know what that old son of a bitch just offered me?”

  “He didn’t tap you already?” Bianca asked.

  “He couldn’t’ve. So soon?” Phil said, bemused.

  “Well, he did,” Dumaine said, scratching the back of his neck. He looked up and caught Tim’s eye. “He wants me to go down there with him in thirty minutes when he accepts the nomination and take the nod by acclamation.”

  “Jesus!” Bianca whispered.

  “That’s never been done before,” Thuris muttered, more to himself than anybody else.

  “That’s why he wants to do it,” Dumaine said. “He thinks it’ll give us a jump-start on St. Clair.”

  “He’s right about that,” said Tim.

  Everyone in the room turned around to look at Tim, with Bianca giving him a look that made no secret she thought he was speaking way out of his place.

  Another staffer spoke up, “Doesn’t give us much time.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” said Dumaine. “Told him I’d call in ten minutes.”

  Everybody spoke at once, gushing out advice. Dumaine held up his hands.

  “Whoa! Bianca?”

  Tim had edged his way around the side of the room, so he had a good look at Bianca as she consulted her inner demons. She was licking her lipstick, almost gritting her teeth.

  “I’d go for it,” she finally announced.

  Thuris jumped right in.

  “I say No.”

  Bianca shot him a hard look. That Don’t cross me look.

  Thuris went on.

  “You’ve got a much higher profile on the Foreign Relations Committee.”

  “But Mowbray’s old,” Bianca explained her reasoning. “He’s seventy-two. Reagan was seventy when he was sworn in. He’s most likely a one-term President anyway. Bill would be in a perfect position to move up next term.”

  “Or even the term after,” Tim offered. Thuris shot him a look that said, Who asked you, Body Man? But he didn’t say anything.

  “It’s perfect,” said Bianca.

  Thuris wasn’t finished.

  “You think it might be some kind of a trap?”

  “What trap? The game’s over. I lost the nomination to him and he wants me to play second fiddle for a while.”

  “Do it!” Tim said in a low voice filled with urgency. Thuris gave him another look that practically screamed: Back off, you, motherfucker!

  “Shut up! All of you! Bill, you’ve got a magnificent career on the line. Don’t fuck it up by making the wrong decision now.”

  Bill gave Thuris a cool look.

  “I’m not sure it is the wrong decision, Phil.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER 19

  Governor Mowbray and his entourage gathered in the wings behind the massive stage in the convention hall and listened as the secretary announced the new nominee.

  Mowbray leaned in to Dumaine.

  “They’re going to eat this up, this crowd.”

  “I think you’re right, Governor.”

  Mowbray was beside himself, beaming with happiness, fulfillment and overwhelming excitement. He had reached the pinnacle of his political career, and the last bastion of success and validation, the Mount Everest of achievement, the Presidency, lay before him.

  “We’re going to get a lot of fly out of this surprise announcement, Bill.”

  Onstage, the secretary was wrapping it up.

  “And it is my distinct privilege and
deep honor to introduce to you the next President of the United States, Douglas Mowbray!”

  An instant standing ovation greeted Mowbray as he walked out with this wife Gloria, both of them with their hands high in the air waving to the frenzied conventioneers.

  They split up and moved to separate sides of the stage, smiling broadly, acknowledging the cheers.

  Mowbray raised his eyes to the highest balconies where everything blurred into darkness. All he could see was the red, white and blue bunting hanging from the railings, and thousands of arms waving crazily back and forth. He drank in the adulation. Adrenalin pumped through him like a life source.

  Finally, he inched toward the podium and placed his hands on either side of it, leaning slightly forward, turning to look at Dumaine waiting in the wings. He gave him a friendly wink.