by Ridge King
When Rafael came out of the bathroom toweling off his head of black hair, she marveled at his body. He was the spitting image of the famous Argentine polo player, Nacho Figueras, who had gone on to fame as a Ralph Lauren model. Rafael’s hair was much shorter, of course, being in the Coast Guard, but his body was lean and taut, every inch of him a woman’s dream.
Rafael put his foot up on the bench at the end of the bed and dried his legs and worked the towel between his legs. He winked at her and started to do a little dance around the bed, snapping the towel in her direction.
“What are you, a Cuban belly dancer? Quit torturing me and get over here,” she begged.
He complied and within seconds she was wrapped in his arms.
* * *
A few blocks north on the Miami side of Biscayne Bay at Sixty-ninth Street, Raven Fuentes paced her wide balcony in the Palm Bay Tower. Her apartment was just below the penthouse and the terrace wrapped around two-thirds of the building, affording her a dramatic view of downtown Miami and Miami Beach across the Bay.
Frustrated, she went back inside and got a corkscrew from a kitchen drawer. She chose a pinot noir from the wine rack and pulled the cork, snapping a nail in the process.
“Fuck!” she screamed.
With the glass half-full, she thought twice, not wanting to have too much to drink before Skye got there. Too much drink, she knew—didn’t matter if it was beer or vodka or wine—was like gas on a fire. And hers was not the kind of personality that needed any help to fly off the handle into a violent tirade.
Why she couldn’t have been more like her mother she didn’t know. But she wasn’t.
She couldn’t wait for Skye to get there. He’d been at sea for too many days. Her mother had forced her to go to the Raleigh Hotel on South Beach on election night to be with her friend Sofia St. Clair, even though she had no desire to see Jack.
“It’s time that you grew up and faced the consequences of your actions,” her mother had said that night. “So you slept with the man. It’s over.”
But she knew it could never really be over with Jack, she thought as she went back out onto the terrace and looked down at some passing boats. Even though he was now sleeping with Babe. Did he do it to torment her? Well, it was working. She was tormented. Everywhere she turned the St. Clairs were in her face.
Yes, yes—as soon as Skye got there things would be all right. She’d settle down. She finished the half-glass and went back into the kitchen and filled it half way again.
She heard the familiar sound of the elevator doors opening in the small foyer of her floor just on the other side of the kitchen wall, emptied the glass into the sink and put the pinot noir against a wall on the kitchen counter just as Skye came through the door she’d left open for him. She quickly slipped out onto the terrace.
“Raven!”
“Out here, Skye!”
He came running into the living room, tossing some flowers and a wrapped present onto the couch, and out onto the terrace where he kissed her passionately.
“Thank God you could make it,” she said as she melted into his strong arms.
With Raven, everything was passionate, over the top. Skye was no sooner out of his uniform jacket than she began ripping at his shirt, popping the buttons as she dug her tongue deep into his mouth.
Skye had never met a woman like Raven, and her base nature brought out the animal in him. He clawed at her clothes, pulling them from her curvaceous body and throwing them on the floor.
They made love right there on the carpet in the living room, the open sliding glass doors leading to the terrace letting in a cool cross breeze that flowed through the apartment. The sun had shifted slightly as they made love, and while they had started in a shadow, they finished under the glare of a bright hot sun. With the exertions of their frenzied lovemaking, they were bathed in sweat.
After they climaxed, Skye smoothed the black hair matted with sweat back from Raven’s face. Both of them breathed deeply, their chests heaving with the ultimate satisfaction resulting from an exhausting orgasm.
Skye rolled over on his back and Raven rolled over on top of him, licking the salty sweat from his chest, sucking his nipples, working her way up to his mouth.
After kissing him deeply, she smiled.
“Thanks for the birthday present. Ready for Round Two?”
Skye gave her a goofy grin.
“Hell, yeah!”
Chapter 11
Slanetti and Nesbitt
Slanetti drove to the Shoreham Hotel on Calvert Street and went straight up to Will Nesbitt’s room on the eighth floor. He chose Nesbitt, of the Association of Farmers, to act as liaison with Albert Delamar, Democrat of Tennessee. The Republicans technically had the advantage in the delegation, five to four, but Republican Leland Masingale was adamant against Russia. Delamar was pro-China but was known not to like Thurston, even though he announced his support for him. He chose Nesbitt, as he would try to choose all his liaisons, because he enjoyed a cordial relationship with Delamar. Slanetti relied on his liaisons to urge their congressmen to capitulate if only to keep them loyal to their lobbies, fearing if the information known about those members became publicized, they’d be forced out of office sooner or later on the strength of it, and the lobby in question would lose an influential vote. The motivation wasn’t even friendship, just simple greed.
Nesbitt was friendly but surprised that Slanetti asked to meet him, and curious when Slanetti got there as to why he’d insisted the meeting be in his hotel room and not in Slanetti’s White House office. Slanetti was coldly businesslike and straightforward throughout the meeting.
“Mr. Nesbitt, I have chosen you to act as my liaison with Albert Delamar and to tell him certain things that we know and will thoroughly publicize unless he votes for Governor St. Clair in all party caucuses and in the formal vote on the floor of the House January third.”
Nesbitt was more curious than shocked. Influence peddling was common enough in Washington, endemic really. He was not about to use his influence on Delamar unless Slanetti had something really damaging.
“How will he know you’re telling the truth? How will I know you’re telling the truth?” asked Nesbitt, hoping to throw Slanetti a little off guard.
“You will know I’m telling the truth when you see his reaction to the fact that we will publicize his purchase of certain large tracts of farmland at reduced prices from two of the same companies his brother is part of.”
“Well, I …”
“When he sold the land back to his brother three days later for a seven million dollar profit, he broke the law big time.”
“Albert’s an honest man, Phil. He’s no worse than the others,” Nesbitt said, trying to defend the congressman. Slanetti showed no emotion whatever.
“Thank you, Mr. Nesbitt, I’m aware of that. So is Mr. Delamar. But unless he wants every constituent in his district to know this information and be reminded of it when he comes up for reelection, and unless he wants a Justice Department investigation into the affair, and unless he wants to risk the public censure, he’ll vote for Governor St. Clair and all will be forgotten. Every scrap of information I have will be shredded if Sam Houston St. Clair is elected January third.”
“But—” said Nesbitt before being cut off.
“You will also inform him that we are quite aware of the right-wing causes he has been quietly promoting from his office—all of it against the law—and that we know he used his committee position to sell certain large tracts of timberland to the government at extraordinarily high prices. Here are the figures stating the exact amounts that will be publicized if he will not cooperate,” said Slanetti, opening his briefcase and handing Nesbitt a piece of paper. Nesbitt was reacting to the information now.
“But he’s told everybody—everybody—that he’ll vote for Thurston,” Nesbitt pleaded.
“I know that, Mr. Nesbitt, but he cannot ever do that again unless he wants to lose his seat, and believe me, Mr. Nesbitt,” said Sla
netti, “you must make him see that I mean what I’m saying—everything that can be done will be done to see that he loses his seat and serves time in jail.”
Nesbitt got sober fast.
“I’ll tell him what you say. I’ll see him tomorrow and tell him. How do I get in touch with you to tell you what he says?”
“If he complies, you can call me at the White House. When I answer you will say, ‘The Keystone fits the arch’ and that is all—nothing more, and hang up. I will know that he’ll vote for St. Clair. If he will not comply, don’t try to reach me at all. I’ll know what I have to do. You are not to call me to tell me anything other than ‘The Keystone fits the arch.’ I won’t listen to anything he has to say regarding the veracity of my information or anything else and I will not personally see him. He agrees or he doesn’t. He has two days to decide. After that I act.”
“Two days!” exclaimed Nesbitt.
“Precisely. After that you can read about it in the papers, because that’s where the information will be.”
Chapter 12
Thurston’s Magic Number
The senior senator from Michigan and Democratic candidate for President, Frederick Thurston, was very busy the next morning, just as he had been every morning since his arrival in Washington. He was visiting on the average four state delegations every day, not to mention his meetings with individuals. His course took him to hotels, private homes, three small parties so far, and of course, to Capitol Hill.
The more important state delegations he met with so far were California, New York, Illinois, Indiana, Minnesota, Oklahoma and Delaware. His visit to the members from New York was merely a social call, as that state was sealed for him. California, which had a Republican majority, twenty-eight to twenty-five, he stayed with a long time, speaking at length with individual members, because he and his staff were convinced that this state would come over to his side given a little one-on-one persuasion. His Chinese policy went well in the state and his showing in the primary and subsequently in the election only brightened his hopes to carry it in the House.
Indiana was Republican five to four, but after talking to Republican Rebecca Isdel, he thought he might pull her over with another meeting or two, thus giving him the state.
Minnesota, a tied delegation at four to four, he visited hoping to sway a single member, Harvey Blumenthal, a Republican.
He spoke for a long time with John Fulton of Oklahoma, who controlled the Republican majority in that state’s delegation and who also supported him in the election in very plain language. He was widely known to dislike St. Clair and his support for Norwalk’s Russian policy. Fulton received him well.
He was very interested in the single Republican congressman from Delaware, Walter Pettigrew, an old man with an impeccable congressional record for honesty and personal integrity who was lukewarm towards Thurston, but cold towards St. Clair.
He was anxious also to visit the several tied delegations besides Minnesota, but his main object in doing this was to keep those states tied. He considered that his advantages would be in swaying states that were one vote heavy on the Republican side. In most tied delegations, the party lines were evenly drawn, so all he wanted to do was to keep them drawn. The purpose behind this strategy was to keep the states from going Republican. He and his staff thought they could get their twenty-six states and keep the Republicans from catching up to them by denying them several of the tied states, which the Democrats hoped would go to neither party.
He spent the early part of that morning with Gilbert, Ressler and Epstein, secluded in his hotel. They concluded their battle plans and preparations for the party caucuses scheduled that morning, the results of which would help them decide where to adjust their strategy for individual members.
According to their figures, if they could get the states they thought they could get, on January third the Democrats would carry twenty-six states and the Republicans would take sixteen. The balance should remain tied and out of the decision. They gave the Republicans Alaska, Arizona, Connecticut, Idaho, Iowa, Kansas, Maine, Thurston’s home state of Michigan, which was Republican ten to five, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Vermont and Virginia—all with Republican majorities large enough to assure a definite Republican victory. They did not give up on Indiana, Oklahoma or Illinois. They relied on Illinois to remain at least tied, along with Montana, New Mexico, North Dakota, Oregon, Utah and Wisconsin. Thurston spoke with all the Democrats from these tied delegations over the phone and they all assured him of their support and that he could count on them to keep each state tied and out of Republican hands. But the important thing he remembered was that if he could secure for himself the remaining twenty-six states, he could afford to lose all the rest, so he concentrated more on getting the twenty-six they had decided on early that morning. If he could do that he would win on the first ballot in the House and would be acclaimed President.
* * *
In his office, Phil Slanetti was going over his own list, and he felt quite sure that he estimated the Democratic strategy correctly. He assumed that they would leave the tied delegations pretty much alone because he was aware of the individuals such as Fulton of Oklahoma and Pettigrew of Delaware who might switch over and knew Thurston would be working on them.
In Pettigrew’s case, Slanetti had given up because the man could not be swayed: there was nothing, absolutely nothing on him, and he was a living testament to the honesty that did occasionally exist in Congress that school kids read about in their civics books. Slanetti reasoned some time ago that while Thurston was concentrating on members Slanetti had already given up on, he would be working on members in the smaller, tied delegations on which he had something in Keystone. Slanetti called in his congressional liaison staff for a final briefing before they went to the Hill that morning to monitor the two caucuses. It would be natural for the President’s liaison staff to be up on the Hill trying to round up votes just as though this were an appropriations bill that needed support. He certainly planned to be present. He would try to speak personally to as many of the men on his target list as he could so that later when his contacts gave them the information he had on them they would remember talking to him.
Thurston was that moment meeting with the Illinois delegation, attempting to swing over a Republican vote, but he felt it was hopeless. The best he could do was keep it tied, he thought. Edward Healy and Duncan Olcott were there, an odd pair to see together in the same room. They remained on opposite sides of the large conference room in the Hyatt where the delegation set itself up before splitting into party groups and going up to their respective caucuses. The Democrats were scheduled to meet in the House Chamber in the Capitol first, the Republicans afterwards.
Thurston and Healy were grouped with two Republican congressmen talking quietly. Thurston put his arm around one congressman’s shoulders and took him aside. He knew that this member was getting on in years and that he would like a judgeship, and it was this that he promised the man if he could give him his vote. The Republican congressman was hesitant and wouldn’t commit himself. Thurston nodded soberly and told him to think about it and to get back to him when he decided. He wasn’t particularly hopeful. Healy was talking to the other man a few feet away.
As he left the elderly congressman who wanted to be a judge but didn’t want to desert his party (since he’d probably been offered the same thing to hold his vote), Thurston met Epstein and they moved on to another member, Thurston thinking as they walked across the room filled with men and women whispering in huddles that he wanted to spend a little time alone with Peggy that night if he could manage it. He was so busy the last few weeks that every night he came to bed he was too exhausted to make love, even though he wanted to. Peggy always understood. They hadn’t made love in well over a month and even when they had it wasn’t too good for either of them—the tension of the campaign, his near total physical exhaustion, and now this extension of the campaign up to January third—it only i
ncreased and prolonged the indecision, worry, details of individual case histories he had to know in order to speak easily with members who would expect him to know exactly what they wanted to be offered before giving him their votes. He would make a point of speaking to Jesse about leaving him and Peggy alone that night. It would be good tonight, he thought as they approached another Illinois congressman who turned around and smiled when he saw Thurston, holding out his hand. Thurston thought as he shook the man’s hand that his own hand would just fall off sometime soon, just curl up, red and scratched and numb, and fall off.
Chapter 13
Hawkins Meets Slanetti
Matt Hawkins that morning was in his office suite in the Cannon House Office Building that Dave Murchison opened up for him. He and Liz were going over routine details that would ordinarily have been taken care of back home. He had to see to the opening of district offices in Jackson and Cheyenne. He’d sent Dave back to Wyoming the day before to handle these things and had just finished talking to him on the phone. None of his arrangements were official until he was sworn in and he considered himself lucky to get an office so early. There were a few extra suites and he had been assigned to one as soon as he arrived.
He received his first visit from a constituent-to-be that morning when a park ranger and his wife who lived in Moran near his parents came by to see him, having come to Washington on a brief vacation. He received them in his office and chatted for half an hour. He’d known the park ranger since he was a boy, and the ranger talked on and on about how proud they were of him back home in Moran. He said he’d tell Matt’s parents how well he looked. Before they left he had his picture taken with them. They were appropriately impressed. Matt had heard what a pain in the ass constituents could be, showing up at the godawfulest times, but he knew without the support of the good people of Wyoming, he couldn’t rise beyond his present position. He had big ambitions, and his mind explored the possibilities that the future held.