by Stuart Woods
“And did she get it?”
“Yes, but not from Will. When he declined, she moved down a couple of rungs and got herself fixed up with the governor of Georgia, who was happy, after a night with her, to commute the sentence to life.”
“That sounds like Charlene,” Mike said.
They drove on toward The Arrington.
Security was already tighter than usual at the gate to The Arrington, and Stone, even though he was a major stockholder and board member, was not spared. The search of the cars was thorough.
The hotel was built on land that had been owned by Arrington’s first husband, the movie star Vance Calder, and his house had been incorporated into the guest-arrival center. As part of the lease of the land to the hotel corporation, Stone had negotiated the building of a new house for Arrington. Completed after her death, he had used it as his L.A. base since the hotel opened.
His car was met by the now elderly Manolo, who had been Vance Calder’s butler, and he oversaw the unloading and routing of luggage to the various rooms.
“Drinks in half an hour,” Stone said to everybody, and they went to freshen up.
When he had the opportunity, Manolo approached Stone. “A man from the Secret Service was here half an hour ago,” the Filipino said.
“Details?” Stone asked.
“He said he would return to brief you after the arrival of the president,” Manolo said.
Brief him? About what? Stone went upstairs to his bedroom and got into some casual clothes, then he went back downstairs. A man in a suit with a lapel button was waiting to see him.
“Mr. Barrington, I’m Special Agent Mervin Beam of the Secret Service. I’m in charge of the L.A. office.” They shook hands. “May I speak with you in private?”
Stone took the man into his study and they sat down. He didn’t bother offering the man a drink since he knew it would be declined. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“It arrived as an e-mail sent to me personally.” Beam took a sheet of paper from an inside pocket and handed it to Stone. “This is a copy.”
Stone read the message: At some time before the end of the Democratic convention, Katharine Rule Lee will die. We are patriots who have sworn to return the United States to a strict, constitutional republic, and we regard Mrs. Lee as a clear and present danger to her country, since she will slavishly support the criminal policies put into effect by William Jefferson Lee.
We have supporters in both houses of Congress and in the government bureaucracy, and even in the Secret Service, and we have the means and expertise to carry out our promises. We are quite willing to die in pursuit of our ideals, if that should become necessary.
There will be nothing you can do to stop us. It was signed, The Patriots.
—
“WHAT DO YOU make of this?” Stone asked.
“I’m no psychologist,” Beam said, “but I’ve seen a lot of this stuff over the years. The writer is probably an individual and there is probably no group involved. He exaggerates or, more likely, simply lies about his support in the Congress and the government.”
“What about his claim of someone in your service?”
“I believe that is in the realm of preposterous.”
“And his claim of the means to kill Mrs. Lee?”
“Anybody with a gun has the means to kill anybody else.”
“Do you believe this man is a serious threat or just crazy?”
“Conceivably both, but in any case we will take his threat seriously, as we do all threats. The part about being willing to die is probably true—in fact, that may be what he intends.”
“How did he get your e-mail address?”
Beam looked at his shoes for a moment. “That is the single most disturbing thing about the threat. I’ve got a tech team working on where his e-mail came from, and I’ve got two agents working on how he could have discovered my secure address.”
“How many people have that address?”
“Knowledge of it is restricted to our director, two deputy directors in Washington, and in L.A. to three supervisory agents. It’s used for the most confidential communications.”
“How about secretaries, clerical workers, cleaning ladies?”
“None of the above, but an employee might root it out if he had access and enough time.”
“What are your chances of backtracking to find the sender?”
“Fair to good, unless he’s very, very smart and capable. We’ll assume he is.”
“Is there anything you’d like me to do?”
“Mrs. Lee tells me she and the president are having dinner in this house tomorrow night. I just want you to know that, from eight A.M. tomorrow, my agents will be all over the house and the property. We’ll be as unobtrusive as possible.”
“Actually, we’ll be having dinner outdoors, by the pool, weather permitting.”
“Then we’ll set up a perimeter.” Beam extended a hand. “May I have the e-mail back, please?”
Stone handed it to him.
“Who will be attending the dinner tomorrow night, besides the president and first lady?”
“Whoever they would like to include, plus my guests. They are Chief of Detectives, NYPD, Dino Bacchetti and his wife, Vivian, who is an executive at Strategic Services, Michael Freeman, chairman and CEO of Strategic Services, and he may be bringing someone, you can ask him. Also my son, Peter Barrington, his girlfriend, Hattie Patrick, Ben Bacchetti, the chief’s son, and his girlfriend, Tessa Tweed. I’ll let you know if any other guests are added to the list.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barrington.” Beam stood up. “I’ll keep you posted if there are further developments.”
“I would appreciate that.” Stone shook the man’s hand, received his business card, and watched him leave. Stone was not unduly alarmed about the threat, but its presence would add an edge to their evening that he didn’t like. He would tell Dino and Mike to come armed.
The phone rang; Manolo answered and buzzed Stone. “Mr. Peter is on the phone,” he said.
Stone picked up. “Good afternoon, kiddo!”
“Glad to hear your voice, Dad. I got your message about dinner tomorrow, and we’d all like to come.”
“Great!”
“I’d also like to bring Billy and Betsy Burnett.”
“Of course, I’d love to see them.”
“What time?”
“Six-thirty, seven?”
“And, Dad, the night after that, we’d like to have you all over here for dinner. You haven’t seen our place yet.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Stone said. “How’s the flying going?” He had given Peter his old Citation Mustang.
“Very well. Billy has got Ben, Hattie, and me type-rated in it. Tessa hasn’t shown any interest.”
“Good news. You’ll get lots of use out of it.”
“When does your new Citation M2 arrive?”
“In a few weeks. There was a delay in certifying the avionics.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“I can’t wait to see you,” Stone said. They said goodbye and hung up. Stone called Mervin Beam and got his voice mail; he added the Burnetts to the guest list.
As they were having a drink before dinner, Ann turned up. “I finally got free,” she said.
“Your things are in your dressing room,” Stone said. “Top of the stairs, first door on your left.”
“I’ll go up after dinner,” she said. “Right now I’d like a martini.”
Stone buzzed Manolo and ordered the drink, and it appeared quickly.
“Now that I’ve got you all together,” Stone said, “I want to tell you about my conversation with the Secret Service.” And he did so.
Stone woke the following morning to find Ann in her dressing room, putting her things away. He liked it
that she did these things naked.
“Good morning,” he said from the doorway.
She smiled. “And good morning to you.”
“If you’d like anything pressed, just leave it out and tell Manolo.”
“I’ll do that. Oh, by the way, Kate told me to tell you that they accept your invitation to dinner tonight with pleasure.”
“The Secret Service already told me.”
“Who else will be here?”
“My and Dino’s sons and their girlfriends, and a couple who work for Peter in his production company at Centurion Studios, named Billy and Betsy Burnett.”
“Oh, I’m supposed to tell you that Senator Sam Meriwether and his wife, Dorothy, will be coming, too.”
“I’ve met him,” Stone said, “but not her.” Sam Meriwether, a former congressman from Georgia, had been elected to Will Lee’s old seat and was Kate’s campaign manager. His sobriquet in the Senate was “the new Sam Nunn.” “They’re welcome.”
“Technically, he’s my boss, but he’s been working out of D.C., so I haven’t seen a lot of him, just a lot of phone calls.”
“Is he the right guy to run Kate’s campaign?”
“He is. Kate wanted a southerner, preferably a Georgian, and he’s the sort of senator who gets along with people on both sides of the aisle. Kate and I pretty much run the day-to-day operations, and Sam is more of a strategist. He also is good on television and gets along very well with the press.”
“The accent helps, I think,” Stone said.
“It certainly does. It’s an old-fashioned Georgia accent, and it sounds good on him.”
“Does Kate know about the death threat?”
“Sure, and she’s unfazed. She’s used to that sort of thing, and she knows she’s well protected.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I wouldn’t want her to worry unnecessarily. What time do you have to be back with Kate?”
“Not until eight-thirty or so,” she said.
“Then you have time to come back to bed for a little while, don’t you?”
She smiled. “I’ll be right there.”
—
THEY HAD BREAKFAST sent up on trays and ate in bed, watching the morning shows and reading the papers. A BREAKING NEWS title came on the screen.
“We’ve just had news that Senator Eleanor Stockman has taken a turn for the worse,” an anchorwoman said.
Ann put down the papers and listened. “Uh-oh,” she said.
“Senator Stockman went into the hospital after collapsing at her home last week, and was diagnosed with an operable brain tumor. She had the surgery and was said to be recovering well, but in the early hours of this morning she arrested and had to be revived and intubated. She has been on a respirator for several hours now, and a spokesman says that she is in critical condition.”
“That’s so sad,” Ann said. “I saw her in New York a couple of weeks ago, and she looked tired, but healthy. She was scheduled to speak at the convention.”
“It sounds very serious,” Stone said. “Who will they get to replace her?”
“My guess is Governor Richard Collins might appoint himself to the seat. He’s one of our bright younger stars, and it would be a good opportunity for him to become better known nationally.”
“He was the mayor of San Francisco, wasn’t he?”
“That’s right.”
“Would he make a good vice presidential running mate for Kate?”
“Too soon. He’s only thirty-eight, and he hasn’t finished his first term. Pedro ‘Pete’ Otero of New Mexico has had two terms as governor, and—don’t tell anybody this—he’s the favorite for VP in our camp, if he doesn’t beat us for the nomination!” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get into a shower and run over to the presidential cottage,” she said, getting up and trotting toward her bathroom.
Stone finished the papers and was just getting up when she left. He showered, shaved, and dressed and got downstairs in time to see Mike Freeman and Dino about to leave.
“We’re off to a security meeting with the convention managers,” Mike said. “Chief Rivera of the LAPD has asked Dino to come along and kibitz.”
“Good for you to get to know your future peers around the country,” Stone said.
“Don’t start,” Dino said.
“We’ll be back in time for a drink before dinner,” Mike said. “Oh, I didn’t make another date for dinner.”
“How did Charlene take your breaking your date?”
“Like an arrow in the chest, I think.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she just showed up,” Stone said.
“You really think she’d do that?”
“She won’t if I alert the Secret Service.”
“Do that, and I’ll never get laid again,” Mike said.
“Don’t worry, Charlene will have you back in the sack in no time,” Stone said.
The kids arrived a little early for the dinner party, and they sat out by the pool, waiting for the other guests.
“Tell me about these houses you’ve bought,” Stone said to Peter. “You’ve been pretty quiet about it.”
“Ben and I bought two adjacent properties in Brentwood,” Peter said. “We’ve taken down the fencing between them and combined the landscaping, so that it seems like one larger property with two houses. We have nearly four acres, altogether. Hattie and Tessa have done the decorating, and we’re ready for what amounts to a double housewarming tomorrow evening.”
“I can’t wait to see the place,” Stone said.
“Neither can I,” Dino said. “Are you sure you can afford this, Ben?”
“Dad, I’m a successful movie producer,” Ben replied. “You’d be surprised at what I can afford.”
Billy and Betsy Burnett arrived, Billy introduced Betsy to the grown-ups. It suddenly occurred to Stone that having the former Teddy Fay at a dinner with the first lady and the president who had secretly pardoned him could make for some discomfort. He was about to take Billy aside and talk with him about it when the presidential party arrived.
Introductions were made, and Stone watched Kate carefully. Will Lee had never seen Teddy Fay, but Kate would have when she was at the CIA. The moment passed without incident, and Stone breathed a little easier.
Stone found himself sitting between Senator Sam Meriwether and Kate Lee.
“You heard about Senator Eleanor Stockman’s illness?” Kate asked.
“Yes, this morning on TV.”
“I spoke with her son a few minutes ago. Eleanor is showing no sign of brain activity, and the family are discussing now whether—or rather when—to take her off the respirator.”
“That’s very sad,” Stone said. “I had to face something like that with my mother. She died before we could bring ourselves to turn off the machine.”
Kate nodded. “So many families have to face that.”
Sam Meriwether spoke up. “This means we’re going to have to face another event,” he said. “When Eleanor dies, her Senate seat comes available, and Governor Dick Collins will appoint someone to replace her. She was reelected two years ago, so there’s a four-year term before the appointee would have to face reelection.”
“You see where this is going, Stone?” Kate asked.
Stone took a sip of his drink. “Might Martin Stanton be a candidate to fill her seat?”
“That’s astute of you,” she said. “We have to make some suppositions here, and without as much information as we’d like before doing so.”
“You think Stanton would accept if it’s offered?” Stone asked.
“No, I don’t—at least, not before the convention.”
“What if his support begins to crumble in the California delegation?”
“That would certainly point him in the right direction, but we don’t see
that happening, at this point.”
“The thing is,” Meriwether said, “if Marty knows there’s a safe Senate seat waiting for him if he isn’t nominated, he may not fight quite so hard to get the nomination.”
“Is there someone you’d like me to speak to?” Stone asked, cognizant of his conversation with Kate on the flight out.
“Do you know Dick Collins?” Kate asked.
“I met him at a cocktail party in San Francisco five or six years ago when he was still mayor. I don’t know if he’ll remember, but we had a nice conversation for a few minutes.”
“He’ll remember,” Kate said. “He has a phenomenal memory for names and faces.”
Peter was sitting nearby. “Excuse me, Dad, but did I hear you mention Governor Collins?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Ben and I gave him a tour of Centurion Studios a couple of days ago. We invited him to the housewarming. He said he’d get back to us. He hasn’t yet.”
“You have a better network than you know, Stone,” Kate said. “Peter, don’t ask him again. Don’t worry, he’ll get back to you, he never forgets anything. If he shows up, Stone, then there’s an opportunity.”
“Does he know that you and I are acquainted?” Stone asked.
“Stone, after that stupid rumor the opposition started about you and me, the nation knows we’re acquainted. And Dick knows we’re staying next door to you at The Arrington.”
“Peter,” Stone said, “when the governor calls back, tell him I’m looking forward to seeing him again at your housewarming.”
“Sure, Dad.” Peter went to get another tonic water, his usual drink.
“If he doesn’t make the party,” Kate said, “we’ll find another reason for you and the governor to rub elbows.”
“He’ll be here for our gala,” Stone said. The Arrington was hosting a big fund-raiser, where the singer and actress Immi Gotham would be performing in the hotel’s amphitheater for an invited audience of 1,500 of the top party contributors.