Drew caught his eye and smiled. “See?” his expression said. “I knew she could handle it, and she did.”
Ethan Miles now slunk toward the back of the audience. His fellow reporters smirked at the spectacle of his debacle.
Will watched as the reporter passed Rich’s campaign staffer, glared at him, then strode out the door.
The young buck who had gambled for a big win in his career had just lost any hopes he had of being hired by a reputable national network. Not one of them would touch him now. He’d be destined to live his reporting life in the shadows, scratching for tabloid news that he could only pray someone would take seriously.
Perhaps some things were as they should be for people who lacked principles, Will thought.
A few minutes into questions about her campaign, Sarah cast a glance at Sean. He nodded. It was time.
“Earlier, Mr. Miles, a reporter who has since left the building, handed me two photos,” she stated. “As I said earlier, they match the ones in the folder I myself brought to this conference. Most of you are aware that my brother Will Worthington was prepared to announce his run for Senate last year. However, less than an hour before he was to do so, he was presented with these photos.”
She held them up for the public to see, and cameras zeroed in on their contents. “I want to be completely clear on what these photos are. They portray two men sitting next to each other at a bar. One is the man who would shortly afterward become known as the Polar Bear Bomber.”
The crowd started to buzz. Questions shot forth from the reporters.
Sarah held up a hand. “You will get your story—in fact, a much more intriguing one than you expected today. But in order to proceed, I ask for quiet and your cooperation.”
A hush descended almost instantly in the room, with the remaining few talkers elbowed by their colleagues.
She smiled. “Thank you. I will soon reveal the name of the second man in the photos. First, however, I will give you details approved for release by DHS, the FBI, and the NYPD. These photos were taken when the second man was invited to meet a client at this specific bar. The client never showed. Instead, Mr. Eliot, the first man, was hired to go to the bar and chat with the second man. A hidden camera took pictures of the men in an effort to connect them to the upcoming bombing of American Frontier. I will not discuss the details of the bombing, as DHS, the FBI, and the NYPD will be releasing their own bulletins with those details.
“What is relevant to this press conference is how the photos came to be in my hands in the first place.” Sarah addressed the audience with careful deliberation. “My brother Will was presented these photos by a man who worked with Eric Sandstrom, then still the CEO of American Frontier. Will was, of course, concerned, because the second man pictured in the photos is—”
The cameras and microphones were thrust farther forward.
“—Sean Worthington, my brother and now my campaign manager.”
There was a stunned silence, then questions exploded. Sean stepped to his sister’s side, calmly assessing the crowd as the media turned their attention toward him.
Sarah held up a hand again. She looked straight at Will in the audience, and he gave a slight nod. “Though Will knew that Sean could not be involved with a bombing—and that certainty has been confirmed—he had no wish to see our family dragged through the stress of the muckraking that would most certainly follow the release of the photos,” she said. “So, with only a few minutes before his announcement, he did the only thing he could as a person who loves his family and wanted to protect them. He stepped down from the Senate bid.
“However, let me be perfectly clear. Neither Will nor anyone in the Worthington family has walked away from the fight behind the scenes. The photos were an underhanded attempt by powerful people to control the actions of the Worthington family. We could not let that stand. We have been at work with trusted colleagues, including those we highly respect in the FBI, NYPD, DHS, and DOJ, to put together the pieces about the parties responsible.
“Why did we not reveal this publicly before? you might ask. Because by doing so, we would have revealed information that was greatly needed to find the perpetrators. Some have now been brought to justice. Others are in process.”
“Others?” a reporter called out. “How many others?”
“Specifics will be released in the timing of the governmental organizations involved,” Sarah replied.
Sean now took over the podium. “A full story with the details we have given, as well as a few others, will be released within the hour online in the New York Times. Each of you will be provided with a briefing packet upon exiting the auditorium today so you can meet your deadlines. However, first, some final statements.”
Sarah stepped back in front of the microphone. “As a Worthington, I grew up with two strong mantras: ‘Family first’ and ‘Do the right thing always.’ There will always be unscrupulous people who do despicable things in an attempt to get the upper hand on any who appear to be a threat to them. But why would those people be a threat? Because they won’t back down from doing what is right. The Worthington family has never backed down from a fight. Nor have we ever backed down from doing what is right. As I proceed with this presidential bid, I make you all a promise.”
As she spoke her next words, she looked directly at her father. “I will do the right thing always. I will embrace the truth, tell the truth boldly, and encourage everyone in America to do the same. Secrecy breeds gossip, mistrust, and even hatred. We’ve had enough of that in American politics. My campaign will be based on what the American people need and want, not on criticizing my colleagues on the other side of the fence. Yes, I am a member of a blue-blood family. But that same family has worked hard to support ventures that bring hope and better economic realities to millions of people in America and around the globe. When I am elected”—she smiled as her supporters in the crowd broke out in raucous cheers—“you will have a president who truly cares about the people of America. A president who treats each of you like a beloved family member.”
A wave of applause cascaded over the auditorium.
But what warmed Sarah’s heart the most was her businesslike father clapping and the “well done” approval in his eyes.
A SECURE LOCATION
His call to the man was brief but informational. “Your gut feeling was correct. The president did try one last maneuver to sidetrack Sarah’s campaign.”
“The photos?” the man asked. “And?”
“The Worthingtons were prepared with a set of their own. The reporter’s carefully constructed scheme—compliments of Spencer Rich—came crashing down around him.” He chuckled. “That press conference will be the media highlight for a while.”
“So Sarah emerged intact as a candidate?”
“Indeed. The misguided hit only increased her value in the public eye.”
“I see.” The man on the other end of the line seemed thoughtful.
“But it still doesn’t make her a complete shoo-in for president. Spencer’s backing from Big Oil and Tobacco in general, and from those who can’t entertain the thought of a woman ever as president, still remains strong. So that means—”
“Yes. We must reveal what we have in our hands—the power to destroy all he holds dear. And I must fulfill a promise from long ago, no matter who gets hurt in the process.”
59
NEW YORK CITY
Two hours after the press conference, Sean’s cell phone was besieged with further requests for information and heavy-hitter well-wishers. Elizabeth had waited quietly for him outside Tishman Auditorium instead of leaving with Ava and Bill. Now she drove toward their penthouse while he answered phone calls and googled news story headlines and percentages.
At last he sat back, sighing in satisfaction. Sarah’s initial percentages of voter trust were through the roof. The revelation of the photos hadn’t hurt her in the least. That was a big relief, as the responsibility had weighed heavily on him.
“So?” Elizabeth asked.
“All is good. Listen to these headlines and social media:
“At last, an honest politician. Is there really such a thing? It sure looks like it.
“A female president? It didn’t seem likely until Sarah Worthington decided to run. Now? Just prepare the pink carpet in the Oval Office. It’s a done deal, folks.
“About time. Somebody with brains and business sense.
“She used to work for the DOJ. She’ll be tough on crime. That’s what our big cities especially need.
“The best-looking president we’ll ever have!”
That one prompted laughter from both Sean and Elizabeth.
When they were safely inside their penthouse, Elizabeth snaked an arm around him. “Well, look at that. No one else is home. Since you’re done now, I’ve got some plans of my own,” she whispered in his ear.
He never could resist her.
Sarah kicked off her pumps as soon as she entered her apartment. Wriggling her bare toes over the coolness of the wood floor felt wonderful.
The July day had been hot and a little sticky. What she wouldn’t give right now for—
Her cell rang. She rolled her eyes. No rest for the weary.
Upon checking the number, though, she answered immediately. “Jon.”
“Hey, I’m at the door downstairs. But the substitute bellman is doing his duty well, protecting you from my reporter credentials.” Jon laughed.
“I’ll ring him and straighten it out,” she said.
“Just do it quickly. I’ve got something for you that won’t wait long.”
She raised a brow. “What on earth?”
He laughed again. “It’ll be explained as soon as you open the door.”
A few minutes later Jon was at her door. He extended a bag to her. “It’s hot. Thought you might be up for a treat, so I stopped for a carton of your favorite ice cream.” He tilted his head. “By the way, I’m inviting myself in to eat it with you.”
She grabbed the bag. “You got a deal there, buster. Bet we can make fast work of it.”
Less than a minute later both were seated on the wood floor, with two plastic spoons stuck in the quart of chocolate cherry ice cream that sat between them. Jon had rolled up his shirtsleeves and shed his jacket, socks, and shoes.
“Wow, I needed this,” she said.
“Me too.” Jon was quiet for a minute. Then he said, “Sarah, life is going to change a lot if you get elected. You sure you’re ready for all of it?”
She turned slowly to look at him. Strange how when Jon asked the question, it didn’t bother her like it did when her brothers or father asked. “I know it will. But yes. I have thought about it long and hard. I never dared voice this dream aloud to anybody.” She chuckled. “Darcy is the first one who guessed I might even be interested. It surprised me when she didn’t think I was crazy for even considering it.”
“I’ve never thought you were crazy.” He waved a spoon of ice cream at her. “Maybe a bit melodramatic at times.”
“Hey!” She waved a spoon back. “Okay, I deserved that.”
“No, you deserve the best of everything. Always.” His eyes were warm, sincere.
Sarah tilted her head. “Could that best ever . . .”
She couldn’t speak the words, yet Jon understood. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said simply.
“Even when I become the first female president of the United States?” she asked.
“You’re that certain, are you?” he teased. “Well, I’m sure too. But I have this philosophy.”
“And that is?”
“Everything worthwhile is worth waiting for.”
A SECURE LOCATION
“Has the object been secured in its location?” he asked the man.
“Indeed. I made certain of that before I made the call to Spencer. He was, shall we say, startled.”
“I can imagine. I doubt he expected enemy fire to come from the source it did. But you made it clear—”
“Yes,” the man said in a solemn tone. “He is to announce within 48 hours that he is dropping out of the presidential race. Otherwise, the phone that connects him, Stapleton, the Polar Bear Bomber, and the ISIS funds will be delivered to DHS.”
The line was quiet for a moment.
“Any regrets?” he asked.
The man sighed. “Of course. That this situation was created in the first place.”
“And if Spencer doesn’t step out?”
“His complicated world will get much messier very quickly.”
The call ended.
He couldn’t see Spencer Rich choosing that option. Though it was highly unlikely that he would be impeached, Spencer was smart enough to know not to go down that road. If he did, his reputation would be tarnished far worse than Richard Nixon’s, and present-day Americans were far less forgiving than those during the Watergate scandal. Spencer was already busy trying to keep himself from being too deeply singed from the fire of connections with American Frontier and from the even hotter fire of the allegations of ISIS funding for his presidential campaign.
Spencer Rich had been cornered and bagged. If he was a smart fox, he’d know it and take the easy way out of that bag.
Either way, they would know within 48 hours.
60
NEW YORK CITY
The day after the press conference, Sarah met Michael, Justin’s friend, for coffee at a small diner. He’d just flown in from London to do a theater clinic for a group of troubled youth in New York.
Michael had already snagged a corner booth. He smiled when he saw her and got up to shake her hand.
“Thanks so much for all you’ve been doing on Justin’s behalf. I appreciate you and Jon keeping me in the loop before the official press hits.”
“I only wish we could do more,” Sarah said as they sat. “Like nailing Stapleton for what he really did. But the evidence just isn’t forthcoming.”
Michael nodded. “Even if Stapleton could be arrested for murder, that act wouldn’t accomplish what I want most—my friend Justin back. But there is peace in knowing that Stapleton will no longer be in positions of authority.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to be in that man’s shoes, living with the knowledge of what he did for a lifetime—to his own son.”
Sarah studied him. There were so few good guys like Michael and Jon in the world. People who genuinely cared about others. “Will you be all right, Michael?”
He sighed. “Sure. Of course. I just wish I could have gotten to him sooner, before he got swept into all of this.” He straightened his shoulders. “It makes me even more determined to catch some of the troubled kids I work with and steer them onto the right path. Not all of them have loving moms like Rebecca. Most have MIA or toxic dads. As for Stapleton, I’m not sure what he is—terribly misguided, egotistical, evil? Only God knows.”
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “Truly sorry for Justin and the way his life ended.”
He smiled at her. “At least now, thanks to you, Jon, and Darcy, the world knows the truth about Justin. That he would never have harmed anyone. That he never would have placed that backpack by the building if he’d known what was in it. For that, I am in your debt. If I can ever help you in any way, all you have to do is ask. I’ll be on the next plane from London or Ireland, wherever I happen to be at the moment.” He checked his watch. “But for now I need to depart. I promised I’d meet Mrs. Chesterton for a quick walk in the park before my session.”
“And how is that dear lady?” Sarah asked. She was glad to hear he was still in contact with Marie Chesterton, who had cared so much about the children in her charge at St. Mark’s.
“Still taking children who need it under her wing—just in a less official capacity,” Michael said. “Says while she has time on this earth, she wants to do all the good she can.”
With those words, Michael got up, doffed his Irish fisherman’s cap in farewell, and strode out of the diner, melding into the crowd of New Yor
kers.
Sean’s social network notified him of the announcement before he saw it in the press. He immediately searched network sites to get the fuller story. The news was so recent it was still bare-bones in details, but it was already sending shock waves to multiple interested parties. Those in the Republican camp were startled and vitriolic, to say the least. Those in the Democratic camp were celebrating, since a heavy-hitter rival had been cleared from the ranks.
Spencer Rich had withdrawn from the presidential race in the height of the action. He had merely cited that he felt it was time for him to take a break after the intensity of the presidency, and allow some fresh blood to enter the presidential office. With his fairly high rankings, in spite of his recent controversies, the move made no sense to political strategists. Why withdraw in July, when he’d already weathered so much, and right before the Republican National Convention? Especially since he had clearly been going for Sarah Worthington’s throat in the Republican campaign debates?
But Sean knew the real reason. The attempt to reveal the photos at the press conference had been Spencer Rich’s highest ace to play against Sarah. When he was trumped by her quick action, Rich could have fought harder if he’d had any other cards to play.
Sean nearly sagged in relief. Spencer didn’t know the truth—that Sean was his half brother. Otherwise, he would have circled back, even for a private round with the Worthingtons.
That meant their family secret rested only in the hands of those who would safeguard it—the Worthingtons, Drew, Jon, and Thomas Rich.
Yet the fact that Spencer had given up so easily was still a bit troubling.
Almost as if someone forced his hand, Sean thought.
He reached for his cell and dialed his father.
Will stared at the headlines Drew had thrust in front of him. “Rich withdrew.”
Drew nodded.
“Interesting timing,” Will said simply.
“Indeed.”
The two men’s eyes met. Drew’s gaze was knowing.
A Primary Decision Page 22