McGovern, and an estate in the country, purchased with part of a fortune Jack had made from software he had created during the dot-com boom.
Jack loved his wife, but he’d always harbored certain desires he could not reveal to Martha, desires that some of his mistresses were willing to indulge. Two years ago, a fling with a young lobbyist had ended badly enough to scare him straight. Lucas Sharp, Carson’s childhood friend and his chief aide and fixer, had taken care of the matter. The senator suspected money was involved, but Lucas had done something else he would not discuss with Jack on the theory that what his boss didn’t know couldn’t be testified to in a grand jury. Whatever Lucas had done had worked, because the girl moved back to Indiana two days after Sharp met with her.
Jack had stayed on the straight and narrow after that unnerving fiasco, but the mere sight of this woman in her tight black dress caused a raft of fetishes to sail out of the senator’s subconscious. If his PR firm had concocted a slogan for her, it would have been SEX, set off in blazing scarlet letters. She had high cheekbones, a dark complexion that hinted at Middle Eastern ancestry, silky black hair that fell past her shoulders, lightly muscled, long, tanned legs, and a self-confident air. She waited patiently as Carson got rid of Butcher, then walked close enough for Jack to smell her perfume before extending her hand.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, Senator. My name is Jessica Koshani.”
Carson took the hand willingly. It was warm to the touch, and he felt a slight shock of sexual pleasure from the contact.
“Pleased to meet you,” was the best he could come up with.
“I loved your speech,” Koshani said. “You’re one of the few voices of reason in Middle East policy.”
“Thank you,” Carson answered, fighting the heat he felt rising in his cheeks as he struggled to keep his tone professional.
“I realize you’re tired. These fund-raisers must be exhausting. But I would like to meet with you to hand over some sizable campaign donations. They’re from a few of my business acquaintances who admire your work.” Koshani fixed her large brown eyes on him and smiled in a way that brought more heat to another part of his body. “Would you be able to come to my home in Dunthorpe sometime this week? It will definitely be worth the trip.”
The practical part of Carson’s brain took precedence over his lizard brain for a second. Dunthorpe was where some of the wealthiest members of Portland society lived. If Koshani had a home in Dunthorpe, she would be connected. Jack was in a fight to the death with a well-heeled opponent, and he needed all the money he could get. He also wanted a chance to see Koshani again.
“I do happen to be free Thursday evening.”
“Wonderful,” Koshani said as she handed Jack a business card with her name, a telephone number, and the word I NVESTMENTS.
“I’ve written my address on the back. Shall we say eight?”
“I’ll be there.”
Koshani smiled and walked away. Seconds later, Lucas Sharp was at the senator’s side. Physically, Lucas was everything Jack Carson was not. The African American was a shade over six feet tall, compact and muscular, with a smooth shaved skull that made him look dangerous. Lucas had wrestled and played football in high school, but he’d also had a near-perfect GPA. Brainpower was the bond that made Jack and Lucas best friends. Sharp would not tolerate a single word against his nerdy white friend and had protected him from bullies from elementary school through high school.
The friendship had blossomed at Cornell, where Sharp’s intellect was valued above his wrestling skills and he could let his interest in computer science run free. While attending law school at Harvard, Sharp had made major contributions to the software Carson had developed in graduate school at MIT, and he’d shared in the financial windfall when the patent was sold to Microsoft. Though he didn’t need the money, Lucas worked as a Multnomah County district attorney for four years before quitting when Jack decided to run for Congress. Jack relished the spotlight, but Sharp preferred working behind the scenes.
“What was that about?” Sharp asked when Koshani was out of earshot.
“She wants to meet with me to discuss a major contribution to the campaign.”
“Don’t take it,” Sharp warned.
Carson frowned. “Why not?’
“Do you know who that is?”
“She said her name was Jessica Koshani.”
Sharp nodded. “Koshani’s name came up more than once when I was in the DA’s office. She’s involved with a number of legitimate enterprises, but there was a suspicion that they were fronts for other not-so-legal ventures.”
“Such as?”
“Money laundering through some of the businesses.”
“For who?”
“Drug dealers, arms dealers, and she’s rumored to be the silent partner in a high-end escort service.”
Carson kept his features blank, but he felt the stirring of an erection.
“So there’s no solid proof that Ms. Koshani is doing anything illegal?”
“No.”
“Then I see no problem in meeting with her.”
“There could be problems later, if Lang’s people start spreading rumors.”
“We need the money, Luke. You’ve seen the polls. Lang has closed the gap. I started ten percentage points ahead, and it’s down to one. And it’s the damned TV ads he’s been running. If we don’t come up with enough money to run our own, I could lose.”
“It’s not just the money I’m worried about.”
“I’m a big boy, Luke. I can keep my zipper closed.”
“History would suggest otherwise,” his friend answered. Carson blushed and broke eye contact.
“When are you meeting?” Sharp asked.
“Thursday evening.”
“Damn, I’ll be in Medford.”
“Look,” Carson said, his tone softening, “I appreciate the warning but you don’t have to babysit me. I’ll be okay.”
Sharp started to say something, but caught himself when he saw Martha weaving her way toward them through the round tables that the waitstaff was starting to clear. He loved Jack Carson like a brother, and he worried about him. Jack was brilliant, but he could be very stupid when it came to women.
Chapter Five
Brad was enjoying his job as a legislative assistant to Senator Carson, but he soon found that the pace of work was much faster than the pace at the United States Supreme Court. There were two gears in Senator Carson’s office, fast and slow. When the Senate was not in session or the senator was not in D.C., Brad could dress casually and come to work a little later than usual, although he had so much work even in slow gear that he was at the office by eight and didn’t leave until six or seven. When the Senate was in session or the senator was in D.C., he was expected to dress in a suit and tie, everything ran at hyper speed, and he might not get home until after ten.
Eating breakfast at home was a luxury Brad could not afford, no matter what the gear. Almost all of the staffers grabbed breakfast in one of the Capitol cafeterias and ate at their desks. Brad’s staple was orange juice, a toasted bagel, and coffee. While he ate, he was expected to digest not only food but the contents of the Oregonian, Portland’s daily paper, the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, and the Congressional Quarterly, a privately produced paper that covered every legislative action in Congress and that Brad found stacked at the entrance to the senator’s office every day.
When he was hired, Brad had been assigned a portfolio heavy on legal issues. Lucas Sharp, the senator’s chief of staff, had told him to start each day by scanning publications for issues in his portfolio. Brad was expected
