Grabbing a tissue and wiping the tears from her eyes, Susan tried to put forward a stoic front. “I know you’re just going to lecture me, Mother. And I don’t want to hear it right now.”
“I’m not going to lecture you. But I am going to give you the cold, hard facts because that’s my job as your mother.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just going to lecture me like you always do.”
He didn’t like his daughter’s insolent tone. “Please, Susan. Just give your mother a chance and listen to what she has to say.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed and it appeared as though she would dig her heels in. But after a moment’s reflection, she changed her mind and bowed her head in reluctant acquiescence. Locke quietly nodded for his wife to proceed.
“Susan, I know you feel strongly about keeping the child inside you. But you should know the difficulties you would face. First, it would break my heart, as well as your father’s, if you chose to keep this baby. Having a child out of wedlock is not the proper Christian way. But even more important is how other people will view you. I’m afraid they will not perceive you in a sympathetic manner and fear that this might place an enormous strain on you at a very fragile time in your life.”
“I know all that, Mother. But I’m still not comfortable giving my baby to complete strangers.”
“I understand how you feel,” she continued in her soft Georgia inflection. “But you have to realize that there are practical considerations when it comes to a baby, especially at your young age. Your college counselor, Ann Reid, is confident you will be accepted at Stanford or one of the other top schools you’ve applied to for next fall. It is not reasonable to try to look after a baby and go to college at the same time.”
“But, Mother, they have day-care centers right on campus.”
“A day-care center is no place for a baby, honey. Your scholastic load at Stanford, or wherever you end up, is going to be difficult enough. You will have to devote an extraordinary amount of time to studying, and looking after a baby will place a severe burden on you. Then there’s the question of dating. It will be very difficult to meet nice young men in college when you have a baby. It is very tough for women in that position, I can assure you.”
Locke’s expression turned sour as he thought of Todd. He definitely didn’t want his daughter dating boys like Todd in college. Picturing the beefy linebacker climbing on top of his poor, innocent daughter and performing acts of lechery made his blood boil.
“But the most important thing,” continued Mary, “is that raising the baby on your own is unfair to the child. A baby needs a mother and father. These days people treat conception like a science project—as if you can create a child in a test tube and let it develop on its own. But it’s so much more, Susan. Raising a child is a gift, but it’s also a major responsibility that takes a lot of sacrifice. It takes both a mother and father to do the job properly. Even then, it’s a lifelong challenge.”
After a reflective silence, Susan nodded. “I don’t know, Mother. I’m still afraid of giving my baby away to someone else.”
“It will be hard, honey, but it’s the responsible thing to do.”
“But I don’t know if I can do it. I’ve heard bad things about Sacred Heart.”
“What…what are you talking about? Sacred Heart is a wonderful place.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Stop this, Susan. Your father and I are not going to argue about this any further with you. If you want to go on to live the life you have always dreamed about then you will do this. It’s that simple. Single motherhood is terribly difficult. You have your whole life ahead of you. You will have a family some day when you are properly married, just not right now.”
“But how can you be so sure, Mother? How can you know the future?”
“I don’t. But God does. Everything is part of His plan, as you well know.”
Locke saw that his daughter was filled with self-doubt. But then his wife leaned in close, took Susan in an embrace, and whispered something in her ear. A moment later, they pulled gently apart and his wife looked at Susan firmly yet compassionately.
“Now have we reached an understanding in this matter?”
The girl still looked unsure.
“Susan, have we reached an understanding?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ll go to Sacred Heart.”
“It really is for the best, dear. One day you’ll understand that.”
“Your mother and I will always be here for you,” said Locke, and he leaned in and hugged them both tightly. “Don’t you worry, my child—everything will work out in the end. I promise you.”
“I want to believe you, Daddy, honestly I do. I’m just scared.”
“Don’t be scared, for it is the will of God. And remember, we’re here for you. We both love you so much.”
“I know you do. And I love you too.”
He kissed her on the forehead and hugged her and she hugged him back and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Thankfully the matter was settled: Susan would leave school starting next week, go to Sacred Heart, and give her baby up to the adoptive parents in seven months’ time. It was all settled.
A moment later, they pulled apart and he headed for the door. Just before reaching it, he turned around and looked at Susan. There was kindness in his eyes, a hint of humility.
“I know this a difficult time for you. But you have made the right decision for you and your baby. I also want you to know that, despite our differences on this matter, your mother and I respect your opinion.”
“I know you do. And I know you both love me.”
“You will always be our sweet baby girl. Never forget that.”
“I won’t, Daddy. I won’t.”
CHAPTER 52
AS HE MADE HIS WAY DOWNSTAIRS, he heard his secure phone ring inside his open study. He quickly shuffled into the room, closed the sound-proofed door behind him, punched a button on the small black box beside the telephone to activate the voice modulator, and spoke into the mouthpiece.
“Hello?” his electronically distorted voice queried.
A low voice, also filtered, came back with, “Have you heard from Frautschi?”
Locke stiffened. It was unlike Senator Dubois to be so urgent, so he knew the news had to be very grave indeed.
“No. What is it? What’s happened?”
“He and Fowler are up to something. They’ve brought in Dick Potter.”
Dick Potter! As in the sleaziest political consultant in all of Washington, so vile he would sell his own mother for a better poll number! Why the cretin had indulged in several well-publicized trysts and had worked with the loathsome Democrats over the years as well as several moderate Republicans. Even worse, he was known for corrupting the ideology of his clients, getting them to flip-flop their positions and move towards the slippery center in the name of political expediency.
All Locke could say in response was, “You can’t be serious.”
“Apparently it’s a done deal. When you spoke to our little filly yesterday, did she mention anything about this? Or, for that matter, did Frautschi?”
“No.”
“Then I think we have a problem.” He paused, and Locke shifted uneasily in his seat, knowing he was about to hear more disturbing news. “I’m afraid, Mr. Chairman, that whatever they’ve got going with Dick Potter is just the tip of the iceberg.”
The warning, rife with implied danger, hung there for a moment.
Locke swallowed against the knot in his throat.
“It seems our handpicked successor had a closed-door meeting today with the late president-elect’s wife,” Dubois continued, the voice box distortion only adding to the excruciating tension of the moment.
“Hana Kieger. But why?”
“That’s what we have to find out. It couldn’t have been just to pay her respects. They reportedly spent two full hours alone together rig
ht before Fowler’s press conference.”
“How’d you find out about all this, if it wasn’t Frautschi?”
“I’m afraid that’s need-to-know, Mr. Chairman. Let’s just say I have my own sources. To make sure we don’t get caught with our pants down.”
Once again, Locke was glad he had the Prince of Darkness—as Senator Dubois was known in Washington power circles—on his side as well as in his confidence. Skull Eyes and the colonel would definitely not be so diplomatic if they were in the senator’s position.
“It’s still early. How do we know what she’s really up to?” asked Locke.
“We don’t, but I got a bad feeling. Did you see her little speech?”
“In its entirety. The glowing tribute to Kieger did seem a bit over the top. As did the part where she said she hoped to ‘follow in the footsteps of her predecessor.’ Until proven otherwise, though, I’m still inclined to write off Fowler’s mawkish display as political posturing. If her goal was to win over skeptical Independents and RINOs”—Republicans in Name Only —“to strengthen her bully pulpit, I’d say she accomplished that hands down.”
“Or she may be tipping her hand. In either case, we’ve got to make sure she’s on track with the program before it’s too late.”
“You really think she and Frautschi could go rogue on us?”
“Lord, I hope not. But we have to face an unthinkable possibility: by taking out Kieger, all we may have done is opened up a barrel of snakes. At a minimum, they’re doing things behind our back.”
Locke felt his anger, and resolve, picking up. “You leave this to me—I’ll take care of it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Put together a little face-to-face meeting. Remind Fowler who just filled her war chest and clarify our expectations in no uncertain terms.”
“Sounds like a wise approach. But be careful. Ain’t no place in heaven, no place in hell if Skull Eyes or the colonel find out about this.”
“I’m very much aware of that. Thanks for the heads up—I’ll keep you posted.”
“You do that, Mr. Chairman. Because if this dog won’t hunt, you and I are going to have to come up with an alternative, if you catch my meaning.”
“Oh, I catch your meaning all right,” said Locke, and he hung up the phone.
CHAPTER 53
HE QUICKLY DIALED a number embedded in his memory. Two rings later, the man he wanted to talk to answered.
“Frautschi.”
“I saw President-elect Fowler’s little speech,” Locke launched in without preamble, his voice still distorted. “Interesting word choices throughout. Did you write that piece, Pete?”
There was a pause on the other end, a moment of uncertainty, and Locke knew he had caught him off guard. “What are you talking about?” Frautschi said with transparently fake innocence.
“Answering a question with a question. Are we to that point in our professional relationship, after I just transferred twenty million grade-A American dollars into that special account of yours?”
Another silence.
Locke imagined him on the other end, trying to decide how to respond, how much to reveal. He decided to make the decision for him. “I know about Dick Potter and the meeting with the bereaved widow, Pete. What I want to know is why you haven’t called to tell me.”
“I was going to. It’s just that it’s...been so hectic.”
Locke could tell he was lying. “I can understand that because I’m an understanding man. But I have to confess to you that I’m feeling less than warm and fuzzy about our little arrangement. I’m concerned that, despite my more than generous campaign contribution, the president-elect may not be quite on board with the program. You follow?”
“I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. We’re on board with the Christian platform.”
“That’s good because we both know my associates and I are the ones who’ve made Little Miss Muffet here a national hero. She’s going to be the first female president in the history of the United States and the leader of the free world because we—that’s me and my patriotic associates, Pete—made it all possible. Have you seen today’s papers?”
“Of course.”
“Nearly eighty percent of Americans think current President Gregory Osborne is a liar and a murderer. He’s bringing the Dems numbers down across the board.”
“Okay, what do you want?”
“I want a closed-door meeting with Fowler to reach a formal agreement on her platform, pick for Veep, and cabinet selections.”
Frautschi groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I am dead serious, Pete. And if you want to be the next George Stephanopoulos when this is all over, making seven figures a year blathering your opinions, you’ll do as I say.”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do. But it won’t be until next week. We’re flying out to California for Kieger’s funeral tomorrow morning and will be busy putting together the cabinet until Friday.”
“Listen up because I’m only going to say this once. Without me and my generous associates, you’re just another Beltway wannabe with an ego the size of Texas instead of chief of staff. The same goes for that boss of yours. We made her what she is and what she’ll soon be. You’d better keep that in mind. I said I want a meeting—and I want it this week.”
“I honestly don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this. She’s on board with the program. And so am I. We’re on your team and we always have been.”
“Then prove it to me and take a strong vocal stand on the platform. We wrote it for a reason. Unfortunately, Kieger didn’t take the platform, or its authors, seriously enough—and look what happened to him.”
An ominous silence settled over the phone; not a word was spoken.
“We are sticking to the platform,” Frautschi said finally, “but we have to be sensitive to the voters. You have to give us a little latitude on this. Laying out Contract with America Part Two at this early stage is only going to jeopardize us for the next election.”
“You’re not listening. We own you, Pete. Your debt to us is to make sure that Katherine Fowler puts forward our vision for the country over the next eight years. And you’re going to keep me informed every step of the way. Until you regain my trust, you are to report to me on a daily basis. Is that understood?”
It was several seconds before grudging acquiescence came. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s good news, Pete. I’m glad we see eye to eye on this.”
CHAPTER 54
AT 6:42 P.M. THAT SAME TUESDAY EVENING, Jennifer made her move. She had reconnoitered the entire building and found it deserted. The last employee on her floor had left fifteen minutes earlier. There were no security guards on the company payroll—that she knew of anyway—and the cleaning crew didn’t arrive until eight or nine.
Fileroom E beckoned like a dinner bell sent out to toll the hungry!
Rising from her chair, she picked up her backpack from the credenza, went to the door, and peered out her office. Confirming that no one unaccounted for was lurking in the shadows, she turned off her light and stepped into the hallway with the alert air of a spy. When she reached the elevator, she pushed the Down button and waited, scanning the corridor anxiously for any hint of movement, the slightest whisper of sound.
There was nothing.
She took the elevator to the basement and, when the doors opened, she scanned the corridor. All clear. Stepping from the elevator, she headed to Fileroom E, moving swiftly but stealthily. As she neared the door, her nervousness multiplied exponentially.
Maybe an alarm goes off if the room’s unlocked after hours. Or what if someone comes when I’m inside? I’d be trapped.
Pushing aside her fears, she carefully punched in the six numbers on the keypad next to the door.
Two, three, six, five, five, six. Click.
No alarm sounded.
But what if the alarm was silent? There was nothing she cou
ld do about that; she would just have to chance it.
She flipped on the light switch and closed the door behind her. It was a small fileroom, rather ordinary, with file cabinets arranged in rows, a photocopier, a shredder, and a desk with a PC. The photocopier was a bonus; if the records she was after were, in fact, stored in the room, she could copy the files here instead of hauling them upstairs. There was also an audiovisual set-up, a desk in the corner with a double DVD machine and large video monitor. To her relief, she saw no security cameras.
She set down her backpack and checked the cabinets to see if any were unlocked. None were.
She withdrew a set of keys from her pants pocket. The file cabinets for Filerooms A through D were keyed alike, and she hoped that the master key would unlock Fileroom E’s cabinets. The last thing she wanted to do was use the crowbar in her backpack. She shoved the key into the lock on each cabinet, but it didn’t fit any of them.
Damn. How am I going to get inside?
She tried picking one of the locks with her Swiss army knife, but again she had no luck.
She looked at her pack. Am I going to have to use the crowbar after all?
And then it dawned on her that there might be a key hidden somewhere in the room, like the keys people stashed outside their homes. She searched the desk drawers first. Nothing. She crouched down and checked under the desks and tables, hoping to find a magnetic hide-a-key. Still nothing. Finally, she reached behind several of the file cabinets stacked close to the walls.
On the last cabinet, the one in the corner, she felt something. A small hook and a key.
Bingo!
She quickly unlocked all the cabinets. Each one was identified by either a single letter or a range of letters. She took a few minutes to pull out a few of the drawers and flip through several of the project files, CDs, and DVDs. The files were arranged alphabetically by the names of individuals, groups, or AMP pet issues. The individuals included hard-line politicians, lobbyists, and donors with whom AMP worked, and also moderate Republican, Independent, and Democratic enemies. The groups included political action committees, lobbying firms, and special legislative committees. The issues included local, state, and national legislative issues and court cases in which AMP had a particular interest.
The Coalition: A Novel of Suspense Page 20