of the White House. And then of course there was Mrs. Grayson, too! He was certain that he would be the best president the country had ever had, and part of it would be due to his erotic stamina. Tim pulled back from Sylvie and zipped her up. Sylvie felt the knife-like turn inside her stomach that happened whenever Tim mentioned the presidency… recently, that is. Whatever happened, she must see to it that Frank had no dealings with that columnist, and that the tapes were destroyed once arid for all!
Down the hall, Arlene dressed hurriedly. She wanted to go down to the living room and get her briefcase that she'd left there after a work session earlier in the day. There were a few details that she wanted to discuss with Ron again before they got to the office the next morning.
The family plane would carry them all back to Washington that night, and Arlene hoped to get some sleep during the trip. She certainly hadn't gotten much over the weekend, what with Friday night extending so far into Saturday and work sessions all day Saturday and Sunday. Now she felt tired and wanted nothing so much as a complete rest… a short trip to the Bahamas, perhaps, something like that. But she knew that there would be no rest for any of them now until Tim Cassidy was in the White House, and everything had to wait for that happy event.
She was just about to go out the door when there was a soft knock. She didn't expect Ron, and he rarely knocked anyway, so Arlene thought that perhaps it was Sylvie coming to speak to her about something. She had been thinking a great deal about her cousin since that night when Erick and Ron had forced the young maid Ella to make love to her. More than anything, the lascivious evening had made her regret that she and her cousin were no longer close. And she knew that she herself was to blame. After all, they had once been like sisters and now they spoke mainly of the weather or some other inconsequential subject.
She opened the door, hoping that it would be Sylvie and that she could get across something of what she felt.
'Ella!' The small Irish maid stood timidly in the doorway.
'May I come in, Miss Pickering?' she asked.
Arlene flushed and motioned Ella in. 'Why… why, of course!' she stammered. 'And you mustn't ever, ever call me Miss Pickering again. My name is Arlene!'
Ella stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, and then, embarrassed that she had forgotten her manners, Arlene asked her to sit down. Ella sat daintily on a Louis XV chair, wringing her hands in consternation.
'Yes… yes, I will,' she mumbled. The vision of their obscene lovemaking hung heavily between them, and both women remembered with precision each tender caress, each warm word between them.
'Can I… is there something I can help you with?' Arlene inquired.
After all, this young maid had helped her more perhaps than she would ever realize. Through her, Arlene had re-established her own right, her own intrinsic value in the face of the two Cassidy brothers. She knew that she still loved Ron, probably always would, but now she also knew that there would always be a struggle between them, and that she must be on guard against any attempt he might make to completely undermine her will.
'There… there's something you must know!' Ella stammered out. She had been thinking about it all weekend, and finally she realized that the only person she could talk to would be Arlene. Surely she would know some way to help Sylvie Cassidy get rid of Frank!
The two women spoke for about 15 minutes, and then Ella left the room-but not without a tender embrace from Arlene before they parted.
Arlene had promised her that no harm would come to Sylvie and that they would stop Frank's vicious attempt at blackmail.
The first person she had to talk to was Ron.
Washington's streets were glistening wet as they sped through the city.
Tim and Sylvie were in their own car and Tim was driving. Arlene could see the green Buick turn the corner in front of their limousine as she and Ron continued going straight to their apartment house.
'She wouldn't tell me a damned thing!' Ron said to Arlene. 'Denied the whole thing to the end. The way I see it we've got to get to Frank without Sylvie's help. Obviously she thinks she's the only one who can handle him… and about that I'm certain she's wrong!'
'Yes,' said Arlene. 'She's shown bad judgment before!'
'You can say that again,' Ron replied grimly.
'Oh, it's all my fault… If only I had helped her when she first sent for me… If only I had let her confide in me!'
Arlene knew now that that was the original reason that Sylvie had asked Arlene to come to Grandville. She had needed an ally against the Cassidys, against Tim who paid little attention to her then, and against Ron who thought of her as an object to help Tim get elected Senator, and most of all against Erick who would go to any lengths to make her give in to his sexual demands. Arlene had not helped, and Sylvie had given in to Erick, and that was when the tape had been made.
'All that's water under the bridge,' Ron said pragmatically. 'What's important is now… and the nomination!'
Arlene realized that he was right, and later that night in Ron's apartment they set about trying to locate Frank. They discovered that he had moved from the original apartment that Tim had personally located for his former valet. They would not be able to trace his steps until the next day, and that meant that their best course would be to follow Sylvie when she went to meet him.
Arlene slept fitfully that night, realizing that the next day would be so important to all of them. Its course would determine whether or not Tim reached his final goal, or had his wife and his brother's name headlined in every paper in the country. His career might never recover should the latter event occur!
'Sleep!' said Ron tersely beside her… but she knew that he too was awake and thinking about what was going to happen.
The taxi driver smiled broadly. He had recognized Sylvie Cassidy even though she was wearing her darkest glasses and had pushed her gleaming blonde hair back under a cap. Realizing that the lovely young Senator's wife was in no mood for conversation, he refrained from speaking to her. He was content enough to have such a celebrity in his taxi, although he did wonder why she had not taken a limousine and why she was going to such a middle-class neighborhood. From what he had read about the Cassidys, they hung out with the cream of Washington… with the Ambassadors and the socialites and even with the President and his entourage.
He watched the young woman as she walked away from him down the cement sidewalk. He tried to memorize everything about her so that he could tell his wife and kids when he got home. He had seen The Sylvie Cassidy!
Sylvie was wearing a light top coat that covered her dark burgundycolored dress. The dress was high-necked and long-sleeved and more suitable to winter than to the month of April. Nevertheless, its warmth gave Sylvie courage as she approached the building she dreaded to enter.
The front door was just slightly ajar, and Sylvie stood for what seemed an eternity before she entered. She had little hope left that Frank would not ask some other obscene deed from her before giving her the tapes and agreeing to omit any mention of her own misdeeds from his forthcoming book of memoirs. She had decided within herself that she had no choice but to submit. He had her exactly where he wanted her, and if she had to degrade herself again to save her husband from humiliation, she would do so. After all… she herself had created this horrible situation by her moment of weakness with her husband's youngest brother, Erick, and there was no one now to get her out of it but herself!
To bolster her nerves, Sylvie had drunk several White Russians before leaving her elegant town house some distance away. The vodka and white Creme de Cacao had slipped easily to her near-empty stomach, and had given
