Allergy Claim Keeps Lane from Combat
Duty
Senator Warner Hamilton Lane, a rising star in politics, appears to have made a miraculous recovery from his severe allergies, the malady that kept him out of combat during the Vietnam War.
Carolyn skimmed the text.
Medical records, from Lane’s personal physician, claim that his condition worsened during the war, forcing him to maintain a desk post in Hawaii. Remarkably, however, the allergies seem to have disappeared. In medical records released by the Senator himself, during his last campaign, he was given a clean bill of health and no mention was made of the severe sensitivity.
Carolyn turned the page, finding the byline – by Jack Rudly.
How in the world had Rudly acquired confidential medical and military records? Carolyn wondered. This was typical of his silent, but deadly, attack style. Like a shark, he came out of nowhere, his prey clenched between his jaws.
Carolyn checked the date. No wonder, she thought, the conversation between Nick and Jack had been so intense. Nick must have known about this article. She snatched up the phone, her fingers shaking as she dialed.
“Nick, why didn’t you tell me about Rudly’s article?” She didn’t wait for his response. “Nothing, and I mean – nothing – goes on in this campaign without my knowledge. I thought you understood that. Now, please find out how Rudly got his information, then shut it down. We’ve got friends at that magazine – call them.”
“ Edmund Lane called me about this,” Nick said. “He told me he and Warner had handled it.”
“Say that again,” she instructed ever so softly.
“Edmund said he’d handle it because he was afraid he’d caused the problem for Warner. Since they obviously have some pull with the magazine, they assured me it would never happen again.”
“Nick, I want to make something very clear to you. Edmund Lane is not part of this campaign.” Her voice trembled with barely suppressed anger.
“Not according to Warner. I’m sure you can appreciate my position.”
Carolyn reined in her rage. “I repeat: nothing goes on without my knowledge.”
“I understand, but I think you should know that Edmund is worried about Young’s position. We discussed the situation and agreed that something has to be done. And soon. He feels that Warner’s friendship is clouding his judgment. I tend to agree with him. As it stands now, we can’t beat the guy.”
“Nick, you’re not listening to me. If you don’t do as I ask, then I’ll have to make other arrangements. Do you understand me now?” she asked, aware that he’d never been terminated from a professional position.
Nick said nothing for a long moment.
Carolyn remained silent, although she felt like screaming.
“I understand, Carolyn. I just don’t think Edmund’s clear on it.”
Carolyn severed the connection. Did she dare question Warner about Edmund? No, she thought, let them have their little secret. Fighting with them was the last thing she needed right now, but forewarned was forearmed. She had to remain focused on the campaign – a united front.
She returned her attention to the magazine. Damn the press. And damn Jack Rudly. First he’d hurt Katherine, and now he’d gone after Warner. She realized that as a journalist he had a job to do, but this felt personal. If he wanted a blood bath, she’d give him one, but it wasn’t Warner’s blood that was going to be spilled.
THIRTY-THREE
Bobby Young peddled hard against the wind, racing his new bike against his father’s car. At the stop sign. Bobby pulled up short and waved a mittened hand at his father.
Richard Young motioned for his son to zip up his coat, then gave him a thumbs-up before turning the corner and heading toward his office.
Bobby jumped the curb, turned in the opposite direction, and peddled with all of his might toward his elementary school. The flaps of his open jacket blew behind him like the cape of Superman.
Tires squealed on pavement as a truck burned a strip of rubber around the corner ahead of him.
Bobby looked up quickly. His gaze caught in the eyes of the Asian driver. He swerved to the edge of the road. His bike skidded on a patch of gravel. He fought for control.
The Ford Explorer matched his swerve, bearing down on him for a head on collision.
Bobby screamed as the SUV snagged his front wheel, crushing the rim and flipping the bike.
Bobby somersaulted through the air. His nine-year-old body cracked into the windshield, flew over the roof of the Explorer and landed on the ground behind the vehicle.
Associated Press
January 16,2000
Senator Young’s Son Critically Injured
ATLANTA – Senator Richard Young’s son, Bobby, age nine, was seriously injured when hit by a car. His condition is considered serious, but stable. Witnesses say the accident was a hit and run. Bobby Young was riding his bike when a white Ford Explorer swerved around a corner, hitting the boy head on. A witness described the hit-and-run driver as an Asian female. She is wanted for questioning.
THIRTY-FOUR
Nick walked into Carolyn’s office and handed her a hot dog. “Lunch is served.”
“Nutritious.” Carolyn accepted.
“The path is almost clear for us.” Nick said, then bit into his own hot dog as he sank down into the nearest chair.
“I think Davis and Landon are both out of it. We still have to worry about Gaston, though. He could be tough to beat since New Hampshire is his home state.” Carolyn wiped mustard from the corners of her mouth with a tissue. “And I can’t believe our luck. David Taylor’s defeating himself. I don’t get it. He’s got the best of the best as far as political advisors are concerned. No offense to you, of course, yet he appears completely disorganized.”
“You’re right. They haven’t been able to define his campaign. People don’t know what he stands for or what he presents. He’ll get killed in the primaries.” Nick waved his hot dog for emphasis.
“I’m worried about Richard Young and his family,” she said. “What a horrible accident. Not that I ever liked the man, but I can’t stand the thought of that little boy lying in a hospital bed. Thank God, he’s going to make it. Did we send flowers yet?”
Nick nodded. “Rumor has it Young is going to withdraw from the primaries. They say the kid may never walk again.”
Carolyn set aside her hotdog. “That makes me sick. I wonder if we can help in any way. Put a call into his office and offer our support.”
“I’ll do it right away. At this point, he’s canceled all of his commitments. It’s a bad break for him, but we obviously benefit from the tragedy.” He shook his head. “Political Reality 101.”
“I don’t care about how this accident has ‘helped’ us,” Carolyn snapped. “A little boy is horribly injured, and I have no desire to profit from such a catastrophic event. That’s not what we’re about here.”
Nick flushed. “I understand. Forgive me for being so insensitive.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Good.” Nick pushed up from his chair. “Onward and upward.”
Once he was gone. Carolyn dialed Mark’s number. “Mark, it’s Carolyn.” Her tone was all business.
“How are you?”
She detected a note of discontent in Mark’s voice, but chose to ignore it. “Fine. I’m calling about the transactions you’ve been handling for me. I need a total dollar figure.”
Mark paused. “I’m uncomfortable about using campaign funds to hire investigators, and delaying tax payments. I’m also worried about my exposure. I have a family to care for.”
His remark sliced her heart. “I’m aware of your commitment to your family.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“Let it go. Mark.”
He continued. “It’s just that I spend my days in this courthouse fighting for what’s right. It used to be so cut and dried, black and white. And now I look in the mirror, and I don’t know who
the bad guys are anymore.”
“How can you even think such a thing?” Carolyn asked. “You’re one of the good guys.”
“I don’t know about that anymore.”
What was bringing on his crisis of conscience? Certainly not hiring investigators, Carolyn thought. Mark was not naive, and none of this was illegal. Worst-case scenario was paying penalties to the Internal Revenue Service, and that was a long shot.
“What’s really bothering you?” she asked, her concern glowing. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
Mark hesitated. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“We both know who the bad guys are, Mark, you prosecute them every day. Nothing has changed, except your perception. You just aren’t looking at this clearly. The only way to fight a battle is to employ the tools necessary to win. We’re just aiming ourselves correctly.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s the same as having a weak case, but knowing the guy is guilty. You’d search for an angle and argue to use evidence even if you knew it was tainted, if that was all you had. Right?”
“This is a little different, misusing funds could be construed as improper.”
“And using tainted evidence isn’t? Think about this, please. There’s no difference here. We’re just bending the rules within the law. In this instance, the end justifies the means. If we knew a guy was guilty, we’d both use whatever we had, right or wrong, to get him convicted.”
Carolyn tried to conceal the frustration she felt.
“Besides, we’re talking about my money, money given specifically to put Warner in the White House. We aren’t using it for any other purpose, it’s still going to the appropriate cause. Hiring investigators is a necessary expense. Don’t kid yourself – the other candidates are doing exactly the same thing.”
Mark paused. “I guess.”
“Are we talking about the money? I get the feeling something else is troubling you.”
“Of course, we are.” he answered abruptly. “What else would I be talking about?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d tell me.”
Carolyn heard Mark sigh. She wondered if she’d pushed him too far.
“You need some totals, don’t you?” His voice sounded flat. “I’ll crunch the numbers, then courier the paperwork over to you. You can decide if you want to keep the funds in checking accounts or put them into short-term investments.”
“Thank you.” Not wanting to end on a bad note, she softened her voice. “Have I told you lately how wonderful you’ve been?”
“Carolyn, don’t do this… I’m sorry… Thank you for the compliment.”
Perplexed, Carolyn reluctantly re-cradled the receiver. His distorted sense of concern confused her. He’d talked in circles, as if the topic they were discussing wasn’t what worried him. Did he have another agenda? Did he have a guilty conscience? She dismissed the thought as ridiculous.
Associated Press
January 22, 2000 Young Withdraws from Primaries
WASHINGTON - Senator Richard Young announced today that he would not be running in the presidential primaries in order to devote full attention to his son’s recovery. Although the primaries have not officially begun, Young was considered the front-runner for the party nomination. The driver of the hit-and-run vehicle that injured his son has not been located. She is still wanted by the police for questioning.
THIRTY-FIVE
January 27,2000 – Jefferson City
Ernie Weiland met Warner as he walked out of his dressing room and handed him the newspaper. “We have a meeting in fifteen minutes with Carolyn and the rest of the inner circle. So you’d better hurry.”
Warner said nothing. He felt like a trained seal. He kept waiting for the moment when Carolyn would demand that he spin a ball on his nose.
At one point, it seemed as if their relationship had moved to a place of truce that included trust and respect. He lived his life, she lived hers. Their mutual dream of the White House their bond. Now, instead of a bond between them, he felt bound to her.
No matter how hard he tried, she demanded more of him. She reminded him of Edmund. No, he silently amended, recently she’d become far more controlling than Edmund.
With the presidential campaign in full swing, she surrounded him by people to manage his image. Or was it to monitor his behavior?
He grudgingly admitted that Carolyn had put together a brilliant election team. Due to her competence, the Council found no need to influence her choices.
Matt Carson was terrific at manipulating a story with the press in order to slant it in their favor. Like Warner, he was a master of semantics. Warner liked him as a person. He was a superior point man, who could easily assimilate himself into any situation. As the primaries drew closer. Matt set up the infrastructure of the campaign machines in each state. Warner felt certain that he could trust Matt, and with trust came the prospect of a little rest and relaxation.
He glanced at Ernie, who was also quick on his feet. With his facile mind and command of the verbal style necessary to be persuasive no matter the venue, he often articulated winning arguments for the Lane position.
When they were on the road, he and Ernie shared a suite. Back at home. Carolyn had given Ernie a room in their residence. Was that to keep him informed? Warner wondered as he browsed through the headlines of the paper, or to keep him on a short leash? Warner mentally shrugged. He was comfortable with Ernie, and that made dealing with Carolyn easier to manage.
But Nick, he realized, was turning out to be the star of the campaign staff. Nick dissected situations, located the targets, and implemented action. Ambitious by nature, he was a sponge for every shred of information that came his way, and every detail that would put them ahead in the polls.
As an aide on the Hill, Nick had learned to locate the centers of power. He was like a baseball player who knew all of the pitchers: their strategies, their best pitches, and what they were likely to throw at you when you stepped to the plate. He memorized the specialty of every reporter. He anticipated their questions and grasped their prejudices.
“Objective reporting only exists in fantasyland.” Nick once told Warner. “Most reporters don’t do their own research and investigation. They’re a complacent bunch, staying at the same lush hotels, falling prey to the trap of group think, and more than willing to let someone interpret information for them. We just have to be out there to do the interpreting I’ll let you know when we run across a real reporter”- Nick had paused, his gaze locking with Warner’s-“like your hometown buddy, Rudly. Then you can’t be blindsided. Fortunately, though, the Rudlys of the world are few and far between.” Nick knew his stuff, and Warner felt well guarded by his guidance. He intended to take Nick to the White House.
Warner glanced over at Ernie, who sat in a chair next to the window, reading a newspaper and drinking orange juice. Warner felt he never had a minute alone any longer. He was supposed to please Edmund. Please Carolyn. Please the people – well, fuck them all.
Granted, he could play the role, but he refused to buy into the bullshit. Everyone was out for himself. Their greedy agendas rested on his success and sucked the life out of him. Carolyn was the worst of them all. She thought she ran his campaign. Well, he had a surprise for her. A big, fat, juicy payback of a surprise.
Warner poured himself a glass of orange juice. Damn, he needed to snap out of this funk. Pump himself up. This was his year. The victory and the glory were going to be his, and he needed to keep that in focus.
What he needed was a drink, something to take the edge off the stress. He drank half of the juice, then headed into the bathroom, glass in hand.
Ernie remained submerged in the morning paper.
Warner opened the cabinet door and pulled out his flask. He poured a jigger of Jack Daniels into his orange juice and drank it down. He eyed the empty cup, then refilled it with the whiskey. He tossed it back with a grimace, rinsed out the glass, and rejoined Ernie in the sitting room.
“Let’s go,”
Warner said as he shrugged into his suit jacket, popping two mints into his mouth.
The meeting had already started when Warner and Ernie walked in. Matt, Nick, and Carolyn were all sitting around the conference table in the basement of their home.
“Nick, where are you with the new economic plan?” Carolyn asked as Warner and Ernie took their seats.
“Almost finished. My staffs working on it even as we speak.”
“How about the press? I know they’ve been quizzing us on the details.”
“Handled. I released a statement this morning saying we’d have the entire document to them in two weeks.” Nick shuffled some papers. “And here’s your speech on the war on drugs you asked me to review. I edited it last night. Go over it one more time, fine-tune it for your style. You don’t need it until the Women in Politics caucus tomorrow, right?” He handed the loose pages to Carolyn.
“Yes, and thank you.”
“About the platform issues we were discussing yesterday. Our polling suggests that Carolyn stay with the war on drugs platform. The public loves it. Warner can focus on tax relief and the environment.” Nick proceeded to hand them packets of information. “Here’s a synopsis of the research, my reasoning and some of the facts that back it up.”
“Great job.” Carolyn said. “Is there anything else?”
“One more thing. Here are the travel arrangements for New Hampshire.” Nick passed out additional folders, stuffed with a variety of travel documents.
“If that’s it, then we’re adjourned,” Carolyn announced.
Warner held up his hand. “Wait a minute, everyone, I have a few comments.”
They sat back down.
“You’re all doing good work here, and Carolyn and I appreciate it. The New Hampshire primary is critical, and as you all know the polls show a close race. Some believe that we don’t have a chance of winning. It’s time to prove them wrong.” Warner hit his fist on the table. He met the gaze of each person in the room.
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