The Candidate

by Lis Wiehl

  “Hey there.”

  “Listen, I’ve gotten partway into Pierce Holdings. A lot of firewalls here, it’s going to be very tough to get through. But I have discovered something very interesting. The company seems to have two servers.”

  “Meaning?”

  “They basically have two sets of computer systems.”

  “Could it just be a backup system?”

  “When an organization does that, it backs up the original system as a fail-safe. It doesn’t create an entirely new system. That’s what we have here.”

  “Don’t some companies have one system for management and then a general system for all employees?”

  “Yes, but that’s not what this looks like. Pierce Holdings is a very lean machine. One hundred percent owned by Celeste Pierce Ortiz. It has enormous assets in just about every sector of the global economy. Considering the size of their assets, the number of employees is strikingly low. And there seems to just be one system for all of them. So this second system appears to be a discreet entity.”

  “What would the motive be to have two systems?”

  “One may be a cover.”

  “You mean the main system is a front for activities not related to Pierce Holdings?”

  “Basically, yes. Although Pierce Holdings is obviously a very real and successful entity. But I believe something else is going on at the same time. To get into this second system, you have to go through Pierce Holdings, which acts like a potent firewall. Without it, this second system would be much more vulnerable to hacking. You could be a Pierce Holdings employee and not know this second system exists. It’s basically hidden in plain sight.”

  “It sounds like an incredibly smart setup.”

  “I’ve never seen anything quite like it before.”

  Erica feels a terrible sense of responsibility toward Mark. Helping her out almost cost him his life once. “Listen, Mark, thanks so much. I’d like you to stop working on this now. You’ve already given me very valuable information. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Erica, once I get started, well, it’s tough for me to stop. This is a fascinating configuration they have set up. My curiosity is raging.”

  “I don’t want to put you in any danger.”

  “You’re not holding a gun to my head. I trust you that if this wasn’t really important you wouldn’t have called me.”

  “Please don’t do anything that will let them detect your cyber-presence. If you sense they have, stop immediately. And that’s a gun to your head talking.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Erica puts a call in to Celeste Ortiz, who gets back to her within two minutes.

  “Erica. You must be bored out of your skull there in Houston.” Her voice is both warm and cold.

  “I’m strictly nonpartisan.”

  “You could belong to the Birthday Party and be bored by that convention.”

  “I wanted to thank you for all your cooperation with my piece on your husband.”

  “I sense an ask coming.”

  “You must be psychic.”

  “I can predict trouble. What’s up?”

  “The piece is coming well, but to be honest, Celeste, there’s a tremendous amount of interest in your finances.”

  “I’ve released my tax returns. Isn’t that enough for the vultures?”

  “Mort Silver and my producers are pressuring me to delve a little deeper. You know that people are fascinated by wealth and privilege. I’m not interested in an exposé, but I do think it’s a legitimate topic to explore.”

  “Out of the question. Pierce Holdings is a privately held company. I’m the sole owner. Besides, do you know how many pieces have been done on me and my money? Fortune, CNN, FOX Business, Politico, you name it. My finances have been turned inside out. Yes, I was born to privilege, but I sure didn’t rest on it. I made the bulk of my money and I’m proud of it. There’s more than enough public information for you to cobble together a segment on my holdings.”

  Erica waits before answering. Let her sweat. “You know, I’ll have no choice then but to make your refusal part of the segment. In fact, it will probably be the focus of it. It may look as if you’re hiding something.”

  “Erica, I gave you the biggest scoop of the Democratic convention and this is how you repay me.”

  “We agreed that came with no strings attached. I took you on your word.”

  “Don’t you know how the world works?”

  “I know how I work.”

  “This is blackmail.”

  “It’s nothing more or less than a journalist going after a story.”

  “I’d call it a journalist creating a story.”

  “You can take that up with Mort. For my piece to be well-rounded, I have to cover the issue. You know it could come back to bite you. Remember Romney’s fatal 47 percent remark.”

  “My husband is not Mitt Romney.”

  “But he is a one-tenth of one percent-er. Lucy Winters grew up on a farm. That her father later lost to bankruptcy. I’ve heard whispers that the Winters organization is going to make the contrast a lynchpin of their campaign, just as Obama did so effectively with Romney.”

  There’s a pause, and Erica can practically hear Celeste’s wheels turning.

  “What do you want?”

  “What are you offering?”

  Now Erica can almost hear Celeste’s teeth grinding. “Well, I’m certainly not going to give you an interview. That would only create the wrong impression in people’s minds. Besides, I’m not involved in the day-to-day operations. I have more important things to do.”

  “Who would you suggest?”

  “How about our operations manager, Paul Court? He’s articulate.”

  “I’m not sure an operations manager is the right choice. We need someone with real authority.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Erica.” There’s a pause, and then Celeste says, “I suppose you could do a short interview with our CEO, Lily . . . Lily Lau.”

  Yes! “We met in New York. I remember her well.”

  “She’s a memorable woman.”

  “Please tell her I’ll be calling to set a date.”

  There’s a frosty pause before Celeste says, “You know, Erica, playing hardball can be dangerous.”

  “Batter up.”

  CHAPTER 60

  IT’S LATE MORNING ON THE Monday after the Republican convention, and Erica has just arrived at the Huntington Hotel in San Francisco. Since coming back from Iraq she’s been keyed up, anxious, sensitive to any sudden sound or movement. Sleep is elusive and the early-morning hours are filled with demons. She worries about Jenny and is confused by her feelings about Greg, but forces herself to concentrate on the task at hand. She’s going to interview Lily Lau at the offices of Pierce Holding this afternoon; Eileen has hired a local crew to go with her. She wants to try and break through Lily Lau’s cool, rattle her a little, get her to tip her hand—without tipping her own.

  After unpacking, Erica takes out her cards, sits at the suite’s desk, and deals a couple of hands of solitaire. The game usually helps to center her, calm her runaway mind. These days it’s not enough. Only the truth will really bring her any peace. There’s a window in front of her, and she looks out at the view—Grace Cathedral, the Union Club, the charming park. San Francisco is just too beautiful, she decides. No wonder it has one of the country’s highest suicide rates. If you can’t be happy here in Shangri-La, why not just pack it in? At the end of the rainbow lies the abyss.

  Erica stands up and starts to pace, trying to tamp down her anxiety. She feels lonely and afraid, as if she’s going into battle alone, unarmed, and outmanned.

  She gets a call from Mort Silver. “I’ve got some great news.”

  “I could use it.”

  “The debate commission is going to name you moderator for the third and final debate. It’s being held in Seattle one week before the election. This is huge, Erica.”

  It is huge. Her surge of triumph, however,
is quickly followed by one of duty. More weight on her shoulders. Still, she wanted this. Badly. And now she has it. “Do you know how it happened?”

  “Well, this is where things get a little delicate. And this is strictly off the record. I got a phone call from someone I’m not at liberty to name. The Winters camp wanted you all along. The Ortiz people resisted, but then apparently Celeste Ortiz stepped in and okayed you.”

  “That’s a little bit strange.”

  “However, the Ortiz camp wants to convey its expectation that your piece on him will not contain any ‘surprises.’ ”

  “In other words, they want a puff piece in return for okaying me.”

  “That’s awfully strong wording, Erica. Remember, these are power players operating at the highest levels. I include both of us in that assessment. You know there’s a lot of quid pro quo. Moderating this debate is going to take your career to a whole new level.”

  “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that and move forward with my piece.”

  “Erica, both sides reserve the right to change the moderator up until two days before the debate. We have to tread lightly here. This debate will be a coup for you, but also for GNN and its bottom line. We’re less than three years old, and this would put us right up there with the more established networks. I told them that we didn’t anticipate your piece containing any surprises.”

  “In other words, you spoke for me.”

  There is a pause, and then Mort says with finality, “You work for me.”

  “Last time I checked, I was the only number one show on GNN. If you think I’m going to compromise my integrity in service of your bottom line, well, you better start looking for my replacement.”

  “Now, now . . .”

  “Don’t ‘now, now’ me, Mort. Every other network on television would leap to hire me and you know it. Why? Because I deliver. And I don’t deliver puff pieces.”

  When Mort speaks, his tone is conciliatory. “Are you anticipating any surprises in your story?”

  “I’m anticipating an honest, in-depth look at Mike Ortiz’s life and career.” She takes a deep breath. “Listen, Mort, I want the moderator gig. I want it a lot. So let’s you and I work together on this. When you get that follow-up call from your unnamed source, just tell them that Erica has assured you the report will be fair and honest and will showcase Ortiz’s many strengths.”

  “Good. Good, Erica. That’s exactly what I’ll do.”

  Erica hangs up. She has no time to savor her win. In fact, she feels like she’s racing against the clock. She concentrates on Lily Lau. Her father, Chen Lau, is the head of the MSS. The men who tortured Mike Ortiz were Chinese. Were they MSS agents?

  Isolation. Sensory deprivation. Fear. Indoctrination. Love.

  Erica sees that baby, gurgling with happiness, as Judy Buchanan holds it up and makes a funny face. A second later both of them were shredded into pieces by the bomb Tim Markum planted. And then that horrific day in Detroit when she was splattered by bits of Markum’s brains and blood and bone when Peter Tuttle shot him in the face before killing himself. Martin Vander plowed down in broad daylight. Becky Sullivan thrown onto the rocks of Morningside Park. Anwar Hamade’s car exploding when he turned the ignition. All of these crimes were seamlessly planned and executed. No doubt the MSS, with its resources and smarts, was as adept as the CIA in the art of killing.

  Erica remembers the look that Celeste and Lily—huddled in a corner—gave her as she waited for the elevator at the New York fundraiser. It was chilling. If Ortiz wins the White House, they’ll be the most powerful women in the world. Is Lily Lau a stalking horse for Beijing putting its pawn in the White House? But she couldn’t be doing it alone. The MSS must have operatives in this country, just as surely as the CIA has them in China.

  Erica sits down at her laptop and brings up the San Francisco magazine piece on Lau. She takes another look at her country compound with its three guesthouses. She searches real estate records and finds the address. Then she goes to Google Earth and zooms in on it. Much of the estate is obscured by trees. Then there is its isolation, up a two-mile driveway. There would be no one to hear you scream. One of those guesthouses could be the perfect location for—

  Isolation. Sensory deprivation. Fear. Indoctrination. Love.

  CHAPTER 61

  ERICA AND HER POD—SOUNDMAN AND cameraman—arrive at the stately old office building on Market near the Embarcadero where Pierce Holdings is headquartered. As they ride up in the elevator, Erica says, “I’d like you two to wait outside while I have a brief pre-interview talk with Lau. I’ll come and get you when I’m ready to start taping.”

  The elevator doors open to a reception area that looks like it hasn’t been renovated since the 1950s. The lettering of the Pierce Holdings sign, the furniture, the dull prints on the walls, all give the impression of an old-money company that has nothing to prove.

  The receptionist smiles and informs Lily that Erica has arrived. Within moments she strides out, even more striking and glamorous than Erica remembered. She smiles in an approximation of warmth.

  “Erica, how lovely to see you again. Come in. Bring your crew.” She’s going through the motions, but she seems distracted, preoccupied, anxious, as if she has something far more pressing on her plate.

  “I thought we could talk for a couple of minutes alone, in preparation.”

  Lily looks thrown, for just a nanosecond. “Whatever you prefer.”

  They walk down a hallway lined with more generic art and into Lily’s relatively modest office. The art in here is in a whole different league—three striking black-and-white abstract paintings. Lily sits behind her desk and Erica sits facing her. Lily’s mouth is drawn tight. Erica takes a deep silent breath. Lily glances down at her phone.

  “I’m hoping this won’t take too long,” Lily says. “As you know, Pierce Holdings is a private company. We don’t divulge much. It’s not good business.”

  “Do you worry about people looking into your inner working?”

  “I don’t worry about. I simply make sure they can’t.” She glances down at her phone again.

  “Isn’t that difficult in this day and age? Hackers are very sophisticated.”

  “I thought you were here to talk about where Pierce Holdings was invested. And perhaps we could discuss the work of the Pierce Foundation. We gave away thirty-five million dollars last year.” She drums the desktop with her fingertips.

  This chick is wound tight. Good. Push your advantage.

  “We can certainly touch on the Foundation. But as the campaign heats up there is a great deal of interest in exactly where Celeste Pierce Ortiz’s money is invested. Do you have holdings in fossil fuels? Companies that employ child labor? It could become an issue.”

  “It’s no and no to both those questions.”

  “Do you have a lot of overseas holdings?”

  “Erica, Pierce Holdings is not a nonprofit. I’m in the business of making money. I go where that’s likely to happen. Last time I checked that wasn’t a crime. Politics is so ugly.”

  “It is, isn’t it? People will do anything to get elected.”

  “It’s been going on for millennia.” Another glance at her phone. “In fact, things are tame today compared to what our ancestors engaged in.”

  “You mean like murder?”

  “Listen, I’m pressed for time.”

  Erica doesn’t move. “Interesting art.”

  “Pierce Holdings has one of the world’s best collections of contemporary Chinese art.”

  “How prescient. That might be a good opening for us. We could sit in front of one of the paintings.”

  “I’m not sure middle America is interested in Chinese art.”

  “I’m interested in everything Chinese.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. Your country’s history is so rich.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Another glance at her phone.

  “They were early masters in
so many fields. Including warfare.”

  Lily stands up. “Are you ready to shoot your piece?”

  Erica remains seated. She’s hit a nerve. Time to hit another one. “I’ve been researching Mike Ortiz’s time as a hostage. His body was subjected to some brutal abuse. So was his mind.”

  “Mike Ortiz is an extraordinary man who is going to be a great president.”

  “If he wins, will you be joining his administration?”

  “I never count my chickens.”

  “We’re not talking about chickens.”

  “Then let’s talk about geese. I spoke to Celeste this morning. About the debates.” She gives Erica a thin smile. “Only a fool would kill a goose that lays golden eggs.”

  “Geese are nasty animals. And some things are more valuable than gold.”

  “Such as?”

  “The truth.” Erica looks Lily in the eye and holds her gaze. “I saw some amazing pictures of your weekend house. It’s quite a spread.”

  For a second Lily’s eyes turn into burning ice cubes. Then she turns away with a look of vague dismissal.

  Too late, Lily, I saw that look.

  Lily gets a call. Still feigning nonchalance, she says, “Would you excuse me for just a moment?”

  “Of course.”

  Lily walks out into the hall. Erica immediately decides it’s the perfect time to go get her crew. She silently walks to the open office door—she can hear Lily’s urgent whisper, “Well, were we breached?”

  Erica steps out into the hallway and Lily whirls on her. Erica says, “Just going to get my crew,” and walks down to the reception area.

  In their taped interview, Erica and Lily continue their taut tango. Lily is guarded and stingy with information about Celeste’s wealth. Erica presses her, but not hard. After all, facts about Celeste’s fortune aren’t what she came for.

  When Erica gets back to the hotel she calls Mark on her prepaid.

  “Listen, Mark, I think they may have detected you. Pull back now.”

  “Just when things are getting interesting?”

  “I’m serious. I want you to shut down your work. You’re at risk. Do you understand me?”