Capital Offense

She detected a note of discontent in Mark’s voice, but chose to ignore it. “Fine. I’m calling about the transactions you’ve been handling for me. I need a total dollar figure.”

Mark paused. “I’m uncomfortable about using campaign funds to hire investigators, and delaying tax payments. I’m also worried about my exposure. I have a family to care for.”

His remark sliced her heart. “I’m aware of your commitment to your family.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Let it go. Mark.”

He continued. “It’s just that I spend my days in this courthouse fighting for what’s right. It used to be so cut and dried, black and white. And now I look in the mirror, and I don’t know who the bad guys are anymore.”

“How can you even think such a thing?” Carolyn asked. “You’re one of the good guys.”

“I don’t know about that anymore.”

What was bringing on his crisis of conscience? Certainly not hiring investigators, Carolyn thought. Mark was not naive, and none of this was illegal. Worst-case scenario was paying penalties to the Internal Revenue Service, and that was a long shot.

“What’s really bothering you?” she asked, her concern glowing. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

Mark hesitated. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

“We both know who the bad guys are, Mark, you prosecute them every day. Nothing has changed, except your perception. You just aren’t looking at this clearly. The only way to fight a battle is to employ the tools necessary to win. We’re just aiming ourselves correctly.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s the same as having a weak case, but knowing the guy is guilty. You’d search for an angle and argue to use evidence even if you knew it was tainted, if that was all you had. Right?”

“This is a little different, misusing funds could be construed as improper.”

“And using tainted evidence isn’t? Think about this, please. There’s no difference here. We’re just bending the rules within the law. In this instance, the end justifies the means. If we knew a guy was guilty, we’d both use whatever we had, right or wrong, to get him convicted.”

Carolyn tried to conceal the frustration she felt.

“Besides, we’re talking about my money, money given specifically to put Warner in the White House. We aren’t using it for any other purpose, it’s still going to the appropriate cause. Hiring investigators is a necessary expense. Don’t kid yourself – the other candidates are doing exactly the same thing.”

Mark paused. “I guess.”

“Are we talking about the money? I get the feeling something else is troubling you.”

“Of course, we are.” he answered abruptly. “What else would I be talking about?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Carolyn heard Mark sigh. She wondered if she’d pushed him too far.

“You need some totals, don’t you?” His voice sounded flat. “I’ll crunch the numbers, then courier the paperwork over to you. You can decide if you want to keep the funds in checking accounts or put them into short- term investments.”

“Thank you.” Not wanting to end on a bad note, she softened her voice. “Have I told you lately how wonderful you’ve been?”

“Carolyn, don’t do this… I’m sorry… Thank you for the compliment.”

Perplexed, Carolyn reluctantly re-cradled the receiver. His distorted sense of concern confused her. He’d talked in circles, as if the topic they were discussing wasn’t what worried him. Did he have another agenda? Did he have a guilty conscience? She dismissed the thought as ridiculous.

Associated Press

January 22, 2000 Young Withdraws from Primaries

WASHINGTON - Senator Richard Young announced today that he would not be running in the presidential primaries in order to devote full attention to his son’s recovery. Although the primaries have not officially begun, Young was considered the front-runner for the party nomination. The driver of the hit-and-run vehicle that injured his son has not been located. She is still wanted by the police for questioning.

THIRTY-FIVE

January 27,2000 – Jefferson City

Ernie Weiland met Warner as he walked out of his dressing room and handed him the newspaper. “We have a meeting in fifteen minutes with Carolyn and the rest of the inner circle. So you’d better hurry.”

Warner said nothing. He felt like a trained seal. He kept waiting for the moment when Carolyn would demand that he spin a ball on his nose.

At one point, it seemed as if their relationship had moved to a place of truce that included trust and respect. He lived his life, she lived hers. Their mutual dream of the White House their bond. Now, instead of a bond between them, he felt bound to her.

No matter how hard he tried, she demanded more of him. She reminded him of Edmund. No, he silently amended, recently she’d become far more controlling than Edmund.

With the presidential campaign in full swing, she surrounded him by people to manage his image. Or was it to monitor his behavior?

He grudgingly admitted that Carolyn had put together a brilliant election team. Due to her competence, the Council found no need to influence her choices.

Matt Carson was terrific at manipulating a story with the press in order to slant it in their favor. Like Warner, he was a master of semantics. Warner liked him as a person. He was a superior point man, who could easily assimilate himself into any situation. As the primaries drew closer. Matt set up the infrastructure of the campaign machines in each state. Warner felt certain that he could trust Matt, and with trust came the prospect of a little rest and relaxation.

He glanced at Ernie, who was also quick on his feet. With his facile mind and command of the verbal style necessary to be persuasive no matter the venue, he often articulated winning arguments for the Lane position.

When they were on the road, he and Ernie shared a suite. Back at home. Carolyn had given Ernie a room in their residence. Was that to keep him informed? Warner wondered as he browsed through the headlines of the paper, or to keep him on a short leash? Warner mentally shrugged. He was comfortable with Ernie, and that made dealing with Carolyn easier to manage.

But Nick, he realized, was turning out to be the star of the campaign staff. Nick dissected situations, located the targets, and implemented action. Ambitious by nature, he was a sponge for every shred of information that came his way, and every detail that would put them ahead in the polls.

As an aide on the Hill, Nick had learned to locate the centers of power. He was like a baseball player who knew all of the pitchers: their strategies, their best pitches, and what they were likely to throw at you when you stepped to the plate. He memorized the specialty of every reporter. He anticipated their questions and grasped their prejudices.

“Objective reporting only exists in fantasyland.” Nick once told Warner. “Most reporters don’t do their own research and investigation. They’re a complacent bunch, staying at the same lush hotels, falling prey to the trap of group think, and more than willing to let someone interpret information for them. We just have to be out there to do the interpreting I’ll let you know when we run across a real reporter”- Nick had paused, his gaze locking with Warner’s-“like your hometown buddy, Rudly. Then you can’t be blindsided. Fortunately, though, the Rudlys of the world are few and far between.” Nick knew his stuff, and Warner felt well guarded by his guidance. He intended to take Nick to the White House.

Warner glanced over at Ernie, who sat in a chair next to the window, reading a newspaper and drinking