by Laura Hayden
After a few rough moments at the start, Emily got into the swing of things, letting her natural eloquence shine through. Had this been the real thing, she would have wiped the floor with Charles Talbot.
But this wasn’t the real thing, and the real Charles Talbot had most likely been approaching the problem in the same manner—having his staff prep and grill him as well.
So what would happen in real life was anybody’s guess.
Two days later, the debate became reality.
All of the preparation, the rehearsals, the efforts by Emily and the staff resulted in what political pundits hailed as a classic showdown. Emily fared well against Talbot. She managed to smoothly work in all the essential points of her campaign, as well as some of her successes in the past, including her pet highway project. Talbot had been on his A game too and managed to turn the topic around several times to his extensive experience in foreign policy.
Kate knew that the key now was to keep Emily from diving into her own “woulda-coulda-shoulda” deconstruction of the debate. Rather than allow Emily to start a self-recriminating analysis of her performance, Kate forced her to attend a postdebate rally where, after some coaxing, Emily took the stage with the guest performer, one of her favorite singers. Kate knew Emily could sing—now she had it on tape so America knew it too.
While the party raged, the advisers and staff pored over the debate footage, and the next day, they offered Emily their recommendations for changes in the second and third debates. To Kate’s relief, those suggestions were mostly minor ones; everyone agreed Emily had done a solid job of presenting herself and her platform.
Kate’s sense of accomplishment lasted until Nick called two days later.
He started the conversation with “Please don’t hang up.”
Curiosity overruled her instinct to hit disconnect. “What do you want now?”
“We have to meet.”
“No.”
“Things are happening. It’s going to hit you two hard and fast and there’s nothing I can do about it other than warn you.”
“Do they pay you to be this cryptic, or is double-talk just second nature with you?”
“I’m serious, Kate.” Nick’s voice lowered as if he was afraid of being overheard. “I don’t particularly feel any loyalty to Emily—you know that.” A note of panic crept into his voice. “But I do . . . to you. You’ve always been there for me, even when I messed up totally. Now it’s my turn to return the favor. I had no idea that answering a simple question could possibly result in something like this. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Kate’s heart began to race. “What are you talking about?”
“Not here. Not now. We have to meet. I’m in town. You?”
Kate closed her eyes. She had six hours before she was supposed to leave for Seattle, where she was joining Emily at a series of town hall meetings in Washington and Oregon. Could she take the risk of having another meeting with Nick? Could she risk avoiding it?
Lord, what should I do? Is he leading me down the paths of temptation? Politically or personally?
“Kate . . .” He was pleading now. She’d never heard him do that. Ever. Not even with Emily when times were good.
She gripped the phone tighter. “I’m headed out of town this afternoon, but my plane doesn’t leave until six. I can meet you at Dulles at three.” She added, “And this better be good.”
“It’s not good, Kate. It’s not good at all. But it’s important. . . .”
Three hours later, the limousine service dropped Kate off at the curb. She went inside, checked her single bag, then called Nick’s cell. “I’m here. Now what?”
“What concourse are you flying out of? I’ll meet you there.”
“But how can you get past security?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just tell me your gate number.”
She gave him the information and headed for the security checkpoint. Once safely past that, she took the shuttle to the concourse where they were to meet. She found him dutifully waiting for her. He looked haggard, his five o’clock shadow darkening his strained features. Before she could speak, he gestured for her to say nothing but to follow him.
Great. Another person worried about surveillance. . . .
Feeling like a reject from a bad spy movie, Kate trailed Nick through the crowd of travelers. Finally he stopped at an unmarked door cut into what appeared to be a temporary wall. He turned the knob. It was unlocked. He entered. Kate followed and found herself in a construction area, empty of anybody but Nick.
“We won’t be disturbed here,” he explained. “Or overheard.”
She glanced around at the wires and ductwork hanging down from the exposed ceiling. A thin coat of dust covered the counter, suggesting that no one had worked in the space in a while.
“Very Spy versus Spy. Should I watch out for an anvil falling on my head?”
His expression was grim. “Not yours. Emily’s.”
Kate scowled at him. “So what happened to your promise to keep the Benton family skeletons in the closet? Or is this about something else?”
“I didn’t break my word. At least—not intentionally. When we were gearing up for the debate, Chuck and Wayne kept quizzing me hard about Emily. What did I consider to be M’s hot-button issues? What sort of rhetoric gets under her collar? What subject might cause her to have a knee-jerk reaction? What she was immensely proud of in her personal life? Since they weren’t looking for the specifics, just general concepts, I saw no problem in answering them.”
“But then they asked . . . ,” she said, leading.
He shifted uncomfortably. “Which of her accomplishments as governor did she consider her greatest? To me, that was a no-brainer. If a reporter asked you that, what would you have answered?”
“Simple. The highway project.”
“That’s what I said too. It’s not like it’s a deep, dark secret. She was quoted saying it in the Washington Post. Anyway, they started asking me other questions. Did the phrase ‘the Loompaliki River’ mean anything special to her? or the name Gablonski?”
Kate recognized the second reference; Gablonski had been Emily’s first horse. But since it seemed important to Nick, and especially to Talbot, she volunteered no information.
Nick correctly read her silence. “Don’t worry. I’m not fishing for the answer. I found out after the fact that it was her favorite horse’s name. And the Loompaliki River was the made-up name she gave the creek behind the stables.”
Kate recalled the few times she’d visited the stables at the Bentons’ horse farm. “That can’t be right. There’s no creek back there.”
“Not anymore. There used to be. It was diverted years ago to form the lake in the west pasture. M told me about it because the neighboring farms raised a stink about the water rights issues.”
“So what’s the problem? The name of a horse and a long-gone creek. They don’t add up to certain doom in a presidential election.”
“I didn’t think so either.” Nick looked around, spotted a shrouded row of chairs, and pulled the plastic sheeting away. A fine cloud of dust sifted through the air. “You better sit.”
“I’ll stand, thank you. Just tell me what all this has to do with the highway project and why I should be worried.”
He sat down, facing the window. Sunlight valiantly tried to shine through the dirt-streaked glass, but only a few muddy rays penetrated the panes.
“How much do you know about it?” he asked. “The highway project, I mean.”
She thought back. “A fair amount. I’d gone back to my law practice once she got into the governor’s office, but we stayed very close.” Kate narrowed her gaze. “Don’t stall, Nick. Just come out with it.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Four days ago, a barge broke loose in the Potomac and struck one of the main northbound lane bridge supports near Morgantown. No one was hurt, but the bridge was closed down so the inspectors could make sure there was no structural dam
age. After what happened in Minneapolis in ’07, nobody wanted to take any chances. But there’s been no announcement yet about why the bridge hasn’t opened again.”
“Why hasn’t it?”
“The inspectors took a core sample of the concrete. Tomorrow morning, a report will be released that shows that the wrong grade of sand was used in the concrete bridge supports. Someone used a cheaper grade of sand which, in turn, has caused the concrete to not be as strong or as long lasting as it should have been. Now they have to replace all the bridge supports.”
“Some contractor shortchanged the state. Sure, that’s bad. But why is it Emily’s problem?”
“A company named Two States Bridgeworks got the bridge contract. They subcontracted out the construction of the concrete foundations for the pylons. Two States provided the preliminary specs as well as the construction plans and materials list. The subcontractor turned in invoices showing that they bought and paid for the proper grade of sand.”
Kate had participated in enough construction lawsuits to understand the implications. “Seems to me either the materials supplier or the subcontractor was to blame. I don’t think it’s a problem for Emily.”
“Wrong. Chuck had his investigators look into the subcontractor, who’s since gone bankrupt due to a host of lawsuits. The investigators also looked into Two States’ financial records and discovered the business is owned by a holding company called Loompaliki River Ltd.”
“Coincidence. Maybe she didn’t make the word up and it’s real—some obscure river in Africa or somewhere. Like the Limpopo. That’s a real place.”
“It turns out that Loompaliki River Ltd. is owned by an offshore holding company called Gablonski International.”
The sounds of the busy airport faded from Kate’s hearing. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Nick, stop beating around the bush. What does Talbot have on us that’s got you in such a panic?”
“Chuck paid an obscene amount of bribe money to a banking official in the Bahamas. He has a list of the board of directors of Gablonski International.”
Nick looked Kate straight in the eye. “Every last one of them is a Benton.”
KATE WANTED TO SINK into the seat next to Nick and cry. She wanted to scream, kick, and throw an Emily-type fit. She wanted to do anything and everything other than what she knew she had to do. Gathering every ounce of control she possessed, she said, “So?”
Nick jerked his head up, a mixture of shock and disappointment filling his face as well as coloring his words. “You knew?”
She couldn’t bear to see the crushed look in his eyes, as though he believed she’d let something like that happen. “No. But there’s no reason to believe Emily knows anything about it either.”
“Oh, c’mon, Kate. We’re talking the Bentons here. They live in each others’ pockets. If they could reproduce without going outside of the family, they would just to keep the bloodline pure. We’re not talking a case of simple nepotism—like getting your nephew or cousin a job with the state. We’re talking kickbacks and illegal payments on a grand scale. The preliminary findings show that the Bentons had a finger in practically every aspect of the highway construction—from the surveying crew to the heavy equipment to the paving company. They even owned a piece of the company that built the tollbooths.”
“I know Emily. She wouldn’t think twice about letting her family businesses bid on the highway deal—but she’d blow her top if she thought a subcontractor was shortchanging the project. She wouldn’t stand for it. It wouldn’t just be bad for the project—it would be bad for her reputation. That project was part of her legacy. She didn’t know about the problems. I’d stake my reputation on that.”
“You will be, and it’s already too late to save it.” Nick shook his head. “You may be right, but it won’t matter. Chuck’s going to take your girl out of the running.”
Kate let the words settle in for a few moments before she spoke again. “How bad is it going to be?”
“Chuck’s people have proof of financial irregularities to the tune of millions in illegal payments. It’s probably going to go even higher. She won’t be able to duck this one or talk her way out of it. Her campaign is toast. Emily is going down tomorrow. Hard.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Chuck’s planning a press conference at noon. During the speech, the staff will be blanketing the media with e-mails containing enough proof to trigger a massive investigation. The damning evidence will be e-mailed to every major news outlet in the U.S. and abroad. They’ll get the absolute unvarnished proof in their hot little hands by the time he finishes his statement. By nightfall, Emily will be lucky if she could win president of her book club. Her political career will be in shreds.”
Numb, Kate sat down before she fell.
“I’m sorry, Kate.” Nick reached forward to touch her, but she jerked away. “I just wanted to warn you and to assure you that I had no part in this. This whole thing has been as much of a shock to me as it has been to you. I only found out yesterday. I never thought Talbot would stoop that low. This was supposed to be a campaign on the issues, not a mudslinging spectacular.”
“It’s politics, Nick,” Kate said.
“It’s not the politics I signed on for,” he said. “I’ve worked hard to get my life back on track. I’ve asked for forgiveness, made amends however I could. I’m living a better life now. The one I hope God wants me to live. I’m not as mature in my faith as you. And I don’t have the strength to stay with these people, hoping to change them without worrying they’ll change me back to who and what I was.”
“I wish I was as strong as you think I am,” she said.
“But you are. You’ve been Emily’s best friend for years and yet she hasn’t . . . infected you. If anything, your influence is turning her into a better person. Will she ever completely submit herself to Christ? I don’t know. But it won’t be because you haven’t shown her the better way. You lead by example, and we can all feel his presence in your life. Even Emily. I think it’s why she listens to you when she won’t listen to anyone else. I envy you that. I wish I could have a little of that kind of influence with Chuck, but I’ve failed. I sat in on that meeting with his dirty tricks department, and my stomach turned. I think that somehow he turned that shooter loose on the headquarters the day I got shot.”
Nick sighed. “To think I thought Emily might have done it. Emily’s takedown is just the beginning. Talbot’s got plans I won’t tell you about. For his campaign. And for his presidency. I can’t imagine he’s serious about them, but he says nothing’s going to stop him. I will tell you that his plans terrify me. And I don’t think that I, or anybody else, can make him change them. I’m getting out. Now.”
Kate thought back to the evidence on the man she’d hidden deep, out of Emily’s reach. “After what I’ve learned, I’m not surprised. I don’t know that you can redeem him. He’s done . . . some pretty bad stuff.”
“You talk like it’s all in the past. Trust me. He’s been doing a lot of bad stuff. He’ll keep doing a lot of bad stuff. He’s just really good at hiding it.” Nick reached over and grabbed her hand. “Kate, if he wins, America is going to suffer. Badly. As much as I hate to say it, Emily needs to become president. She’s the better choice. Especially with you at her side.”
Kate’s mind churned ahead at warp speed, considering and discarding dozens of scenarios and actions. It was definitely a shock. But what was more shocking to her was the obvious solution she came up with, the command decision she made without hesitation but with the courage and conviction she found inside herself to start the process.
She’d promised God and herself that she was going to run this campaign on the merits of her candidate because she believed Emily was good enough to sweep the country on those merits.
But this turn of events made that vow moot.
She had to follow Christ’s teachings. She had to learn from his words and deeds. And now she knew what the lesson she shoul
d apply to this situation was.
She thought of Jesus at the temple in Jerusalem overturning the tables of the moneylenders.
They had defiled the temple.
Now Emily’s opponent, a man with blood on his hands, thought he was going to defile this election.
He was wrong.
God, give me the strength to do what I must. It’s not just Emily’s future at stake here but the fate of a nation. . . .
“Nick, did you mean what you just said? You’re out?”
“Yeah. My resignation’s already written and sitting on his desk. I can’t be a party to what he’s about to do. I can’t continue to support him now that I know what kind of person he is. This was just the last straw. Why?”
“Then call Talbot and let me talk to him.”
Nick looked confused. “Why? There’s nothing you can say that can stop him. I spent all day yesterday trying to do that.”
“Just get him. Now.” Do it before I lose my courage and collapse. Dear God, be with me. . . .
Nick sighed but reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and punched a few numbers. After a moment, he spoke.
“Chuck? Nick. Look, I don’t know how to tell you, but . . .” He stalled as if unsure how to explain to his boss that he’d just spilled the beans early, and to the enemy camp, no less. “Aw, never mind. Hang on. Someone wants to speak to you.” He held out the phone to Kate and hung his head. “In some ways, it was a nice job while it lasted. I got to talk to you again. . . .”
Kate’s hand trembled as she accepted the phone. She prayed her voice wouldn’t quiver as well. “Governor Talbot? This is Kathryn Rosen, Emily Benton’s campaign manager.”
Talbot’s voice boomed in her ear. “Well, Miss Rosen! I must say that this is a surprise. Why do I have the pleasure of speaking with you today?”
She’d always thought his deep voice sounded distinguished and authoritative. But now it sounded smarmy and cheap. “It’s come to my attention that you have arranged a press conference tomorrow to release some information about Emily.”