“Same shit, different mouth.” Dan joked, “but personally I like what Lane has to say. What about you?”
Jack shrugged. “Keeping an open mind. There’re a lot of questions I’d like to see answered, but his campaign staff isn’t very forthcoming.”
“They’re just being cautious. Give him a break. He’s new to the national scene. Missouri’s small potatoes compared to the market he’s jumped into now. I mean, you have to admit, we’re a tough crowd.”
“Are we? I’m not so sure, anymore. I can’t believe how easy these guys have been on Lane.” Jack took a drag on his cigarette. He wasn’t prone to arguments, but damn, the lack of curiosity his colleagues were showing was frustrating.
“I don’t think anyone has been easy on him.”
“What about the sweatshop thing? That was dropped like a pregnant debutante.”
“Maybe the press is getting a conscience. It could be argued that journalists are trying to be more objective and not ruin people’s careers just to sell a few newspapers or boost ratings. Look at the Kennedy days. The press kept his personal business quiet and it was probably better for the country.”
“I don’t buy it. If that were true, we wouldn’t have jobs. What’s with the double standard? Suddenly the press has a conscience? Bullshit!”
“Come on, Jack, you’re ignoring the facts. Warner Lane didn’t own that company, his father did.”
“My take is different. Maybe the elite media only has a conscience when it comes to politicians with ideals they agree with.” Jack tossed his unfinished cigarette onto the pavement.
“I can’t believe you don’t like the guy. He’s one of us. He’s a product of the sixties, just like we are. He stands for the same things we do and his wife is a powerhouse. She’ll be more than a pretty figurehead. I believe she may actually make a dent in the drug problem. Shit, she already has.” Dan smacked his fist into his palm “Their concerns are right on target.”
Jack shook his head. “Listen to yourself. ‘He’s one of us.’ That’s exactly the type of group think that destroys the veracity of the media. No wonder the public feels they get the same perspective from every news organization.” This wasn’t about liking or disliking Warner Lane. It was about manipulating the system and biased reporting “You know, I keep getting the same response when it comes to my esteemed colleagues.”
“Maybe that means something,” Dan commented.
“Yeah, like a lot of crack reporters have gotten caught up in all the Lane hype and forgotten their jobs.”
“I call it listening to the man’s message.”
“I call it bullshit.” Jack watched Dan walk away.
He’d tried to maintain an open mind, but maybe his father’s theories of graft had prejudiced him. Jack had known of the Lane family for years, and rumors of trading political favors for profit had always circulated about Edmund and Warner. The implications in his father’s files were unsavory, yet none of them could be proven. Still, the documents haunted him. And he couldn’t ignore his own experience of being reprimanded for revealing Warner’s military career. Someone had applied pressure to shut him down.
Jack leaned against the cool brick of the auditorium. Was he being a hard ass? No, the facts were apparent. At the very least, Warner was being protected and Jack wanted to know by whom.
Time to go back to Missouri and pick up his father’s investigation, Jack thought. He was not into tabloid press, but there were a lot of loose facts that didn’t add up. Carolyn’s relationship with Mort Fields, for one, and why Mort would expose Carolyn to Bill Rudly. This made no sense. And the reference to Winston Cain, made to Bill Rudly from Adam Miles, alarmed Jack.
Winston Cain’s agency would stop at nothing to complete a job, and his father’s notes implied a relationship between Cain and Carolyn. Jack followed up on the hottest lead by visiting Cain’s office in Washington, D.C. Not surprisingly, he was thrown out.
Then, there were the strict orders from the news magazine to report only the standard campaign rhetoric. They wanted him off any real story and essentially threatened his job if he didn’t comply. Jack debated on how hard to tread on very thin ice.
He wasn’t used to having his hands tied by his employer. This job might be considered the big-time by industry standards, but compromising his journalistic integrity wasn’t worth any dollar amount. To Jack, journalism demanded honesty, anything less was a misuse of power and betrayed the readers.
He had expected support for Lane from some of the competition, like
Jack thought of his father. It must be a family character flaw, he mused, to find oneself pushing against the grain of popular opinion. He had to go back to Missouri. Back to the source of the questions.
He didn’t care if his editors didn’t approve. He’d chased lesser stories against greater odds. The fact was, he had a job to do, and he’d be damned if he’d let someone else tell him how to do it.
He wasn’t dropping his investigation of Warner Lane. He owed as much to his dad.
Jack pulled his tape recorder from his pocket and checked to make sure it was rewound and ready to record. The back door of the auditorium swung open and Warner Lane’s entourage made their exit to the waiting cars. First the Secret Service agents, then the handlers, and finally the candidate.
Jack found himself face to face with Warner Lane.
Immediately, one of Warner’s top aides stepped between them. The handlers held up their hands to say they were not allowing any questions.
A female reporter managed to sidestep next to Lane. “Senator, you’re promising a renewed war on drugs and a tax break for all Americans. But do you really think it’s possible to do all of that in one term?”
Warner Lane stopped. “I don’t intend to do it all alone.”
“Please explain.”
“With my wife by my side leading one attack while I lead the other, we’ll accomplish all of that and more.”
“So. Mrs. Lane is a large part of your campaign?”
“No. She’s a large part of my life.”
“Senator Lane, tell us about your affiliation with Mort Fields and Winston Cain?” Jack shouted.
Warner’s head snapped around, his gaze locking with Jack’s.
“Have you hired Winston Cain’s agency?” Jack saw Warner’s jaw clench.
“Who’s Winston Cain?” another reporter yelled.
Warner flashed a grin. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Rudly. I have no idea.”
Quickly. Matt Carson wrapped his arm over Warner’s shoulders and pulled him into the limousine.
Associated Press
March 28, 2000
Lane Nails Down Nomination
FORTY-ONE
“I don’t care what it takes. Warner, shut her down. We made a deal. I got you Governor Hick’s endorsement, and I expect you to hold up your end of our bargain.” Richard Young slammed the phone into its cradle and reached for the Tums. Damn. Carolyn’s escapades were destroying his digestive tract. And he had to keep Warner
