was in politics. Adam and Mort were businessmen. Bill regularly disagreed with the Lanes. Adam and Mort were initially friendly with Warner, Carolyn, and Edmund Lane. Adam had a disagreement with Edmund: Erma felt this had to do with Carolyn and some men from Washington. From the documents in his possession, it appeared that Mort and Carolyn were in business together. Both Mort and Bill had disagreements with Carolyn. According to the documents, Adam Miles disapproved of Mort and Carolyn’s partnership.
All of these men shared two common denominators. One, they were dead. And two, they’d had a conflict with the Lanes, specifically Carolyn Alden Lane. This is crazy, Jack thought. None of these deaths were suspicious, except possibly Fields’s. But the police officer at the crash sight was confident it had been an accident. And what about the plane crash?
“Damn.” Mort Fields was the link, and now he was dead. Frustration swept over him. He didn’t want to let his father down. There had to be another way to unravel the truth.
He flipped his notepad to the list of questions he’d had for Mort and read through them. Tell me about your partnership with Carolyn? Why, specifically, did it end? Why’d you go to my father? Who’s in the Council? What does the Council do? What’s their agenda? The list went on and on.
Obviously, he needed to head back to Jefferson City. It would be easy to arrange another trip there after the convention. He smiled, his thoughts shifting to Katherine. He wanted, no, needed, to see her again.
Finally, at around four-fifteen in the afternoon. Jack received a return call from his editor. “Hey, Rudly, how ya doin‘?”
“You want to explain your letter?” Jack asked.
Pat Mead was the main reason why Jack had joined
“I’m sorry for the formality. But the legal department is a stickler for employment files.” Pat’s voice was tight.
“I don’t care about my employment file, and you know it. What I care about is the contents of that letter. My story on Lane’s military service was accurate and the sources were verified. I had authentic medical and military records. So what gives?”
“You and I need to talk. Why don’t you come into the office tomorrow morning, around nine?”
Jack clenched his jaw. “Spill it. I’m not waiting for tomorrow morning.”
Pat paused. “The brass at the top aren’t pleased with your style.”
“What are you talking about? They
“Then you’re more than they bargained for. Unfortunately I’ve been given the job of issuing you another warning. You’ve already had your hands slapped, and now this is getting serious. You need to back off, or you’re going to see a drastic change in the type of assignments you receive. They’ve got you under contract, they can assign you to anything.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Jack’s voice was a harsh whisper. Every muscle in his body tensed.
“I wish I were.”
“And what exactly did I do to warrant this hog tying?”
“You were spotted on a fishing expedition in Missouri, you were warned before to watch your step where the Lanes were concerned.”
Jack sat back in his chair, questions spinning in his mind. How did Pat know he’d gone to Missouri? Neither he nor Maureen had spoken to the office since his trip. And why the backlash? Finally, Jack responded. “This is outrageous, and you know it. I’m a reporter. Remember? Getting the story’s my job. You, of all people, should know what I’m about. I can’t believe you’re going along with this.”
“I know, I know. And I’m sorry. I’m not sure who the players are, but I can tell you that it came down from on high that you were to be cut off at the knees. It was all I could do to convince them you could be reeled in. The brass is about to ship your ass to Siberia. I don’t want to lose you, Jack, you’re the best I’ve got.”
“Yeah, right. I’m the best you’ve got as long as I do as I’m told and only report what the magazine wants me to. That’s the fattest line of bullshit I’ve ever heard. If you’re going to tie my hands like this, then let me out of my contract – fire me.”
“Come on. Jack. You’re not being fair. You know I’m on your side here.”
“If you’re on my side, then talk the magazine into releasing me.”
“You can’t be serious. Take a few days to cool off, then we’ll talk.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life. Let me out of my contract.” Jack’s voice was cool. He fumbled through his pocket for a cigarette.
“I’m sorry, but the magazine’s not willing to do that.” Pat’s voice was clipped and hard. “If you want to quit, that’s your business, but you won’t be able to write for anyone else until the contract expires.”
“Unbelievable.” Jack snapped the pencil he was holding. “Quite an effective way to shut me down, isn’t it? They tell me what I can write, or I can’t write at all. And you support that? What happened to real journalism? And freedom of the press? What happened to Pat Mead? I never thought you’d ever sell out like this.”
“All I can say is you’ve pissed off some powerful folks. And I’m doing my damnedest to save your career.”
“Don’t worry. I get the picture. And for now, I’ll play ball.”
“I’m glad you’re being reasonable. You’re my best correspondent, and I need you. You won’t be sorry. I’ll take good care of you. Let things cool down for a while. Next week I’m sending you to cover the end of the Washman campaign.”
“Don’t trust me near the Lane camp?”
“Very perceptive. But don’t be a hero on this, okay? Stay the hell out of Missouri. Maybe later we can get you in there, but for now, just watch your back. It looks like you’ve made some nasty enemies.”
“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.” Jack stared at the phone as he replaced the receiver. Yes, he’d have to watch his back. Someone had used a lot of pressure to call him off, a very powerful someone. But who?
From experience he knew that the more extreme the reaction, the bigger the story. If that theory held true, he was onto one of the largest stories of the decade. But how to handle it?
Jack had the resources to hire a battery of attorneys to deal with his employer and his contract, but a protracted legal battle was not the answer. His father had taught him that to right a wrong, one should work within the system, not alienate himself from it. No, Jack shook his head; the choice was simple. He’d fight his own battles.
FORTY-NINE
August, 2000 – Jefferson City, Missouri
Who is Warner Lane?“ President Washman asked. He stood among classroom desks, a flag hung in the background. ”Is he a man we can trust with the welfare of our country? And the future of our children? His voting record in the Senate shows that he’s cut spending on education, raised taxes, and invested in projects his own state didn’t want. Does Warner Lane tell it like it is? Or does he tell you what you want to hear?“
Nick turned off the television. “This ad campaign is focused on Warner’s first term, but the average voter won’t know that. In a nutshell, he’s hurting us. We’ve got to fight back hard. Washman can be beaten, but as the incumbent he’s got the advantage.”
The consultants, campaign managers, staff, Carolyn and Warner Lane, and Richard Young all sat in on the strategy session.
Nick stood with his hands resting on the back of the chair. “Andrea Walden feels strongly that Warner should appear on some of the top pop culture talk shows like ‘Late Night’ to appeal to the younger, more hip crowd. Other politicians have done it in the past with great success.”
