“Yes. I’m her aide in Jefferson City. We’ve been together for years now. She’s also a good friend. Usually, I’m only involved in the behind-the-scenes aspect of campaigning. But after I’d finished up for her at the office, she asked me to come to New York to help. I think she was taking pity on my limited social life in Missouri. I’ve never been to New York before, let alone to one of these conventions. My father’s spent time at them, but I never have.”
Jack’s mind spun. Katherine was Carolyn’s friend? This was
“And, you’re here to cover the convention.” Katherine stated.
“Yes…” Jack hesitated. Should he tell her about his investigation of the Lanes? No, he couldn’t. She might think he was trying to get information from her. Not only would he forfeit any trust he’d regained, but he didn’t know how she’d react. She might go directly to Carolyn. “Just the usual political nonsense.”
Katherine eyed him. “How unlike you. No major stories on the horizon?”
Jack shrugged, his heart sinking.
The waitress approached with the bill. Jack paid it, then they strolled back to Madison Square Garden. The minute they moved through the doors, they were caught up in the frantic pace.
“Have dinner with me?” Jack asked.
Katharine smiled. “You’re pushing.”
“Can’t fault a guy for trying.”
“All right.”
“All right for dinner, or all right you won’t fault me.”
“All right for dinner.”
Jack beamed. “I take it you’re staying at the Inter-Continental. After the last session tonight I’ll ring your room.”
“Sounds good,” she called out over her shoulder.
FORTY-SEVEN
Jack escorted Katherine to a late meal at an Italian restaurant on West Forty-Sixth Street. It was after midnight when they finally sat down, and they both were exhausted. They ordered, then sat sipping wine, talking only periodically.
“Did you hear about Mort Fields’s accident?” Jack asked.
“Just horrible.” Katherine shook her head. “The Lanes are very upset about it. They were friends.”
“I’d heard he was once in business with Carolyn.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I also heard that he was supposed to speak at the convention, but I didn’t see him on the schedule.”
“He was a last minute addition. His idea, actually.”
“What was he speaking on?”
“Political contributions. Carolyn wasn’t happy about it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure. He was supposed to speak right before her, maybe she thought he’d empty the house. I guess I shouldn’t say that now – respect for the dead and all that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being honest.”
Katherine sighed. “What a day. I am not used to all this political strategy – what you’re supposed to do, what you’re not supposed to do. It’s mind-boggling. In fact. I think it’s a genetic thing; you’re either born with political instincts or you’re not. It’s kind of like being born athletic or not. I was definitely not born with a political gene. Even after all of these years of working with Carolyn, it’s still foreign to me. I’m much better with a computer.”
“Having that gene missing isn’t a handicap; it’s an advantage.” Jack smiled. She had the most incredible green eyes. He felt like he could drown in them. He also wanted to hold her hand, but resisted the urge. Just then, their salads were served, and the moment passed.
They finished dinner at two A.M, and strolled back to the hotel. It looked like a casino, still packed with conventioneers, talking and partying as if it were early evening.
“Let’s do this again tomorrow night.”
“I’m sorry.” she said. “I can’t. There’s an official dinner engagement. And unfortunately, the rest of my trip has been booked for me. Carolyn’s schedule is very demanding, and I’m going to be working nonstop to keep up with her. I was lucky to get away for a few hours tonight.”
“I guess this is good-bye then. I’ve really enjoyed seeing you again.” Jack forced a laugh. “I’ll miss your sanity in this crazy place.”
She reached into her shoulder bag, and quickly wrote her home phone number on the back of her business card. “Call me if you’re ever back in Jefferson City. I promise to take your call this time.”
“I will.” He leached into his pocket for his card. Shit, where were his cards? “I’ll leave my number at the front desk for you. Call me if you ever come to Washington.”
She leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for showing me a little bit of New York.” she said, then turned and walked away.
He watched her slip into the crowd and vanish. I should have told her about the story. Maybe she’d understand the obligation I feel to finish what my father stafted.
Either way, a replay of the past hung on the horizon. The damage to their relationship would be irreversible if she found herself caught between her employer and his journalistic priorities. Yet, he had no idea of how to convince her that he didn’t have ulterior motives. And until he did, he decided to keep his mouth shut.
Jack called her every day for the balance of the convention. Most of the time, he was only able to leave a message. On the last day he sent her flowers with a card telling her how nice it was to see her. Katherine called to thank him on hotel voice mail.
The New York Times
Lane-Young the Ticket
FORTY-EIGHT
Jack arrived back in Washington on the first airline shuttle of the morning. He tossed his luggage onto a chair in the sitting room of the two-room suite in the hotel he’d been calling home for the past few years, then placed a call to Pat Mead, his editor. Unable to get though, Jack left a message saying he was in town.
Jack booted his computer and logged onto the Internet. He quickly found the news stories regarding the plane crash that Erma had referenced. One article referred to Ron Spietzer’s disagreements with Warner Lane regarding union busting. All four people on the aircraft had been private pilots. A mechanical failure was listed as the cause of the crash. The case was closed.
A compelling story was forming, but what did it amount to? Jack couldn’t prove anything yet, but Erma had given him plenty to question.
From a plastic box that served as a portable filing cabinet Jack retrieved a file labeled: Rudly, Bill. The folder contained legal documents and one large envelope – the last communication his father had sent to him before his death. He read through the notes and documents again, most of which dealt with Carolyn Lane, Mortimer Fields, and Adam Miles. At the end of the notes the word
Jack reviewed the facts as he knew them on a separate sheet of paper, listing the players and their roles – Bill Rudly, Adam Miles, and Mort Fields. Adam and Mort had been members of the Council. Bill wasn’t a member. Bill
