FIFTY-FIVE
March 23, 2001 – Jefferson City, Missouri
Jack threw his luggage on the bed and glanced at his watch: 4:10 P.M. “Shit, the day is shot.”
He strode into the bathroom. He would have been in Jefferson City hours earlier, but his departure from San Francisco had been delayed by dense fog. He supposed he was lucky to have gotten a flight at all.
Jack filled a glass with tap water and took a sip. He stared into the mirror and the blue eyes he’d inherited from his father. Pain caught in his throat. His father had been murdered. He should have known. It made perfect sense. How could he have ignored the obvious for so long? Guilt weighted his heart. He’d failed to see the truth from the beginning. He’d failed his father.
He walked back into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and re-read the E-mail he’d accessed by using the password the unknown man at the bridge had given him.
Winston.
Professional as always. Payment can he obtained through the usual source.
C
“C,” Jack thought, stood for either Cleopatra or Carolyn, or they were one and the same. He stared at the note as if it could provide an answer. He pulled out his recorder and replayed the tape.
A woman’s voice filled the room. “It’s time to collect the last payment from Mort. He’s going to be sorry he pulled his support.” There was a pause. “Once we have that money, we don’t need him anymore. I’m going to need the funds for a special project I want you to set up. If there’s a way to delay paying taxes, that’s the route we need to take. Pull strings if you have to.”
“What’s this project you’re talking about? Is it for the campaign?” a man responded.
“Of course it’s for the campaign.” she said. “Remember the firm we used for Rudly and Fields?”
This question jolted Jack. Did she mean himself, or his father?
“Sure,” the man said.
“It’s time to set up a permanent staff to investigate possible candidates for the nomination. After that’s accomplished, the investigative staff will come in handy for the big campaign, in order to gather ammunition against President Washman and any of his advocates. I want you to set it up.”
“You need to be careful about this. It could ruin Warner if anyone found out.”
“Which is why I trust you to handle everything for us. I want the best. Contact Winston Cain again.”
Jack hit the pause button. He could swear the woman’s voice was Carolyn’s. Her male counterpart sounded like that of the man he’d met at the bridge. Jack realized that the tape proved nothing, but if, in fact, the voice was Carolyn’s, it tied her to Cain. And it certainly added fuel to his questions. He pressed play, and the tape resumed.
“He can get us ex-FBI and ex-CIA agents. We’ll need a lot of money to pay for the best, but I want them on retainer for us, and strictly nu,” she said.
“Of course, but…”
“No buts. Start right away. Call me if you have any problems. By the way, I’ve set up a private meeting room on the Internet. Here’s the address.”
Jack heard the rustle of paper.
“The password is Caesar. Make sure Winston Cain has it, but no one else. Either of you can leave me a message anytime, I check it frequently.”
The tape ended.
He knew that the recording was meant to tie the woman’s voice to the E-mail address. Proof, Jack thought, he needed proof.
He pulled a notepad out of his pocket and reached for the phone to call Maureen. A crumpled business card fluttered to the floor. He retrieved it, then turned it over, recognizing Katherine Seal’s writing and phone number. On impulse he dialed her work number, but the line was busy. Disappointed, he hung up, then dialed Maureen.
She answered immediately. “Jack, where are you?”
“Missouri.”
“I thought so. Pat Mead called. He told me you left the trade conference early, and he wasn’t happy about it.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t.” Jack reached for his pack of cigarettes, brought a smoke to his lips, and lit it.
“You don’t sound like yourself. What’s going on?”
Jack took a drag off his cigarette, then said. “I can’t get into that right now, but I’ll take care of Mead.” He stood, taking the phone with him. He pulled the wall-cord out to its full length, and began prowling the room like a caged cat.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, because Pat is going to be furious.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know what I’m doing.” He walked back to the nightstand, replaced the receiver, and resumed pacing.
Son of a bitch, Jack thought, he was sick of being on a short leash. In fact, he wasn’t used to any kind of a leash. Every other news organization he’d ever worked for loved his independent drive and lust for a scoop. They encouraged – shit – congratulated his go-anywhere, do-anything style, touting him as an investigative hound who didn’t stop digging until he’d uncovered every bone.
Now, he found himself spending almost as much time finding a way around his employers as he did following the leads. What a mess, he thought. He hated having to sneak around, but the damned contract had him by the balls, a contract that he’d never imagined could be used to keep him from publishing his material.
Frustrated, Jack sat back down on the bed and stabbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He wasn’t giving in. Not now, not ever. He had too many questions, and he was determined to find the answers.
Jack’s glance fell on the business card with Katherine’s phone number. He dialed her number again and smiled when he heard her answer.
“What brings you to Missouri?” Katherine asked.
“Let’s have dinner and I’ll tell you all about it. I know it’s last minute, but does tonight work?”
She hesitated. “All right.”
***
Jack followed the directions Katherine had gave him to an older, well-developed neighborhood. Large oak trees lined the sheets and towered over manicured lawns. He pulled up to a little yellow house with white him.
“The perfect neighborhood,” Jack mumbled to himself, walking to the door and ringing the bell.
Jack’s breath caught when she answered. Her curly auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders.
And her luminescent green eyes left him speechless.
She stepped back from the door. “Come in.”
He struggled to recover.
At his hesitation, she continued “I’m not sure this is such a good idea. I mean with our history and all, maybe it would be best if we just left things as they are.”
Jack stepped over the threshold, realizing that she’d misunderstood his reaction. “No, no, it’s just… you look beautiful.”
She blushed and turned to get her coat.
They walked to an old-world Italian restaurant not far from her house. Katherine looked up at the sky. “What an incredible night. I’ll bet I could count a thousand stars if I tried.”
“I’m sure you could, but that’d take awhile and I’m too hungry to wait.”
“Obviously a romantic, through and through.” She punched his arm, and he faked pain.
Puffs of breath appeared in the air as they talked. Jack jogged ahead and held the door of the restaurant open.
Handsome, Katherine thought, in a rugged sort of way. He wore a fine, navy wool sweater over a white turtleneck, jeans, and a leather bomber jacket that was well worn and stylish. She remembered his jacket, a faithful garment he’d relied on for years. It suited his personality, warm and durable.
As Katherine stepped through the entryway, she skidded across a spot of ice. Jack reached out and pulled her to him. She looked up to say thank-you, but instead met his lips in a tender kiss.
The cold air whipped around them and gusted into the restaurant.
“I’m sorry, it just happened.” he started to apologize. “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard like that.” His eyes searched hers.
Katherine smiled at him
and touched his cheek. “It’s okay.”
“Please, please come in,” the maitre d‘ said, grasping the door and struggling to close it against the wind.
Realizing that the other patrons were staring at them. Katherine felt her face ripen to a warm pink for the second time that night. She stole a glance at Jack, who appeared completely unfazed.
“Table for two?” the maitre d‘ asked.
“Yes, please.” Jack said, then waited for Katherine to step in front of him to follow the maitre d‘ to their table.
Throughout dinner they talked nonstop about where their lives had taken them over the years, both careful not to broach the incident which had caused Katherine to change careers.
“So, tell me. Jack, what brings you back to Missouri? Do you still have family here?” Katherine asked, then took a sip of her decaffeinated coffee.
Glowing pensive, Jack skipped her first question. “No, my dad was the last of my family.” The mention of his father brought to mind his real reasons for being in Missouri. reasons he didn’t believe he could share with her just yet.
“You miss him, don’t you?”
He met her gaze, then said. “Terribly.”
She reached across the table and placed her hand over the top of his. “I’m sorry.”
Jack smiled and turned his palm upward in order to clasp her hand. “It’s okay. He’s been gone awhile now. I just haven’t gotten used to the idea.”
Katherine nodded in understanding.
The waiter arrived with the check. Jack quickly paid, thankful for the interruption.
An undercurrent of attraction flowed between them as they started back out into the night. The temperature had dropped, so they alternated between a brisk walk and a light jog as they hurried toward her home. They linked arms, trying to keep warm. The trip took fifteen minutes, and their teeth were chattering when they finally entered her front door.
After shedding their jackets, Jack started a fire while Katherine went to make hot chocolate.
Five minutes later, she returned to the cozy living room with two steaming mugs of cocoa. He watched her as she pulled out two coasters and set the cups down.
Jack sat on the couch, took her hands in his, and pulled her down next to him. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too.” Katherine stared at the floor, her hair falling fond around her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain about the news story when it happened. I assumed the worst, and destroyed our relationship in the process.”
He lifted her chin. “You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault.” His eyes searched hers. He loved her, had always loved her, but the words stuck in his throat.
With her fingertips, she straightened an unruly lock of hair that fell across his forehead. “Can we start over?”
He answered by pulling her into his embrace, meeting her lips in a kiss.
The fire burned low and flickered warm shadows against the walls. He continued to kiss her, and she began to unbutton his shirt.
He lifted his mouth from hers and gazed into her eyes. “I don’t want to rush you. We don’t have to do this.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said softly.
“I know.” His voice was husky with desire.
She raised her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. Tenderly and slowly, they explored each other, making love in front of the fire and then moving to her bed when the hour grew late.
The next morning Jack woke to the smell of coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls.
“I hope you’re hungry, because this batch of rolls just kept growing. I must have fifteen here.” She walked into the bedroom carrying a platter. “Hey, you never did tell me what brought you back to Missouri.” She sat on the bed, set the tray aside, and kissed him.
Jack rose up on one elbow. “Well, I came to look into some matters.”
“What type of matters?”
Jack took her hand. He could hear his own heart beating. “I believe my father was murdered.”
“My God, Jack, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry. Why would anyone want to kill your father?”
“I believe it was politically motivated.”
“How awful.” Katherine shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense. Your father was one of the most well-liked and respected men in the state.”
“It appears that someone didn’t like him.”
“Do you have any ideas who?”
He looked into her eyes. “The Lanes.”
“What?” Katherine pulled her hand from his, as if his touch scorched her. “The Lanes? So, that’s why you’re here. How stupid could I have been? I trusted you. My God. I slept with you! And you’re here to get information out of me. Again!” She tried to jump off the bed, but he restrained her.
“No, no. I’m not. Damn it, listen to me.” He tried to hang onto her, but she pulled free. The rolls scattered across the floor.
She darted away from him, her eyes snapping with anger. “You must have thought you’d hit the jackpot, at the convention, when you found out I worked for Carolyn.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. You fooled me once, so you figured I was good for another go. I want you to get out”- she pointed toward the door-“this could cost me my career. Another career.”
In one fluid motion, he stood before her. “Kate, please.” He placed one hand under her chin, trying to make her look at him. “I don’t want anything like that from you. That’s not why I’m here with you. Please, believe me.”
“Just leave, Jack.” Katherine turned and walked out of the room as the tears spilled down her cheeks.
She wiped at her tears, went to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee, then carried it to the living room. Don’t get emotional, she told herself as she sat down on the couch. Be rational.
Katherine bit the side of her mouth to stop the crying. How could she have been such a fool? Twice. Be an adult, just end it. She bit harder, fighting the pain and humiliation that threatened to overcome her.
After dressing. Jack walked into the living room. Katherine huddled on the couch, and clutched a cup of coffee, her hands began to shake, so she set her cup down.
“Kate. I, I… love you.”
She held up her hand. “Don’t even…”
“I would never use you. Please. You’ve got to believe me.” He sat down next to her and grasped her shoulders, trying to turn her toward him, but she jerked free, surged to her feet, and stepped back.
She met his gaze, her own angry and accusing. “Then why didn’t you tell me right away what you were here for? Why did you wait until after we’d slept together?” Her lashes glistened with tears.
“It just happened that way.” He stood and approached her, his voice and eyes pleading. “It wasn’t intentional. Please, believe me. I’m not lying to you.” He caressed her cheek. “I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid of your reaction – this reaction.”
She ducked away from his touch. “I don’t buy your excuses, Jack. There were plenty of opportunities to tell me before we made love. What was the plan? Wine me, dine me, a little romance, and then I’d happily succumb to your charms. Maybe even become your inside source?”
“No! Katherine, please…”
“Just go. Please.” She stared at the floor. “I’m not interested in a replay of our sordid past.”
Jack tried to hand his hotel telephone number to her, but she refused to accept it. When she turned away, he placed it on the table next to her and left.
FIFTY-SIX
March 24, 2001 – Jefferson City, Missouri
Jack got into his rented Ford Taurus, and pounded the steeling wheel with his fists.
“Boy, did you blow that one, Rudly.”
Jack shook his head and started the car. He drove in circles for forty-five minutes. When he passed the same convenience store for the fourth time, he stopped to get his bearings.
“Damn it, Rudly,
time to get with the program. You can’t fix it with Katherine right now. So, move on.” He needed a plan of action, he thought. He could no longer put off the inevitable. He’d come to Missouri for a reason. As painful as it was, he needed to focus on his father’s death.
Mort Fields had died before he’d ever gotten to interview him, but maybe his staff would have some information on his partnership with Carolyn. It was worth a try, Jack decided as he pulled away from the curb.
Thirty minutes later, Jack parked in front of the Fields. Inc, office and got out of the car. With Mort no longer at the helm, a board of directors kept the company running. Jack walked into the elaborately decorated reception area that appeared to be deserted except for the multitude of fish that occupied a full-wall aquarium.
“Hello.” Jack called.
“Be right with you,” said a voice from the back. Finally, a stout woman, dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt, appeared. She held out her hand as she approached Jack. “Please excuse the mess, but we’re in the process of moving the offices. I’m Rachelle Watkins.”
Jack shook her hand. “Jack Rudly, we’ve met before.”
She smiled at him. “Yes, we have. And I should be angry at you.”
Jack feigned ignorance. “Why? What did I do?”
“Does Sergeant Leonard Rand of the Jefferson City Fire Department ring any bells?”
Jack took a deep breath. This was just his luck. Of course he’d have to run into Mort’s personal assistant, whom he’d tricked by using a false fire claim in order to get Field’s phone number in New York. “I’m sorry, but it was urgent that I speak to Mr. Fields, and you were doing such a good job of screening my calls… anyway, do you forgive me?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think it matters much now.”
He looked around. “Place looks empty.”
“Well, since Mort’s death the company has slowed to a crawl. It’s just not the same without him, even though the board is doing their best. Mort was an incredible force and really kept things hopping. We’re consolidating office space with another business.”
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