'You gonna be sending cash to mail drops in manila envelopes with no return addresses?'
Mickey didn't answer for a long moment, while his eyes did a survey of the unkempt man before him.
'You know who I am. You know what I do. I sell entertainment products that give me certain cash problems. We stack up dough in warehouses in Caribbean tax havens. Two-foot-long rats come out of the jungle and eat the money before we can ship it. Instead of feeding rats hundred-dollar bills, we're gonna send it your way. You set up a finance chairman and sound bank accounts and get ready to stack the money, 'cause it's gonna be coming a t y ou fast in five-hundred-dollar brown envelopes. A campaign is a perfect cash laundry-no way to trace the money. You tell me how much you need and I'll get it to you as quick as the mail gets there.'
A. J. Teagarden's mind was reeling.
'I've got to talk to Haze. He might not want to run.' Then, brushing past that detail, his mind rushed on. 'I'm going to need to put an organization together, set up offices, get advance people on the plane to Iowa.'
'I've got some people working on this project now. You can keep them or throw them out. I don't care,' Mickey said.
'Who are they?'
'Malcolm Rasher.'
'He was working on Paul Arquette's campaign,' A. J. said.
'Now he's working for me. You want him?' 'He's good. A great strategist.'
'I think he's a yuppie shine with an attitude.'
'What could be better than having a black campaign manager? It sends a politically correct message. I mean, Haze looks good with a black running the show, especially since I'll be behind him calling the shots. Who else?'
'I've got two pollsters-Ken Venable and Guy Vandergot.'
'They're okay. We can keep them.' His mind was racing. 'I'll have to oversee them. I have some thoughts on polling and stature strategy. We'll need an issues staff and a press secretary. Maybe I can get Vidal Brown.'
Mickey looked surprised. Teagarden had snapped up the offer so fast it was almost frightening.
'One other thing,' Mickey continued. 'Haze Richards has to know who's behind this. You gotta get him to talk to me at least once before we start. If I'm gonna buy this guy a seat in the Big Chair, I want him to know he's gonna have to do a few things once he gets elected.' He handed A. J. a telephone number. 'Somebody there can get in touch with me twenty-four hours a day.'
Mickey nodded at New York Tony, who walked over to the car and opened the door.
'I'll be in touch in a few hours,' A. J. said. He got in the car and New York Tony pulled out, leaving Mickey standing next to the river.
These wonks … they're a breed, Mickey thought. The Democratic party had put Teagarden on the beach, and Mickey just threw him back in the water. He was already swimming. 'This guy is perfect,' Mickey said to the raging river.
All the way back to the motel, A. J.' s mind was in full advance. It was the offer of a lifetime. Paul Arquette had obviously been a mob candidate. He'd died in the Bahamas and now they wanted Haze. He didn't need anybody to point out the possibilities to him. The underworld had the cash. If they controlled a TV network, like Mickey hinted, it could make a huge difference. A. J. knew that once the campaign got rolling, it could fund itself on national momentum. Mafia money would just prime the pump and get them started. He knew he could get Haze to run. They'd talked about the possibility for hours on end over the years. A. J. already had an election plan. He knew that by front loading the system, the DNC had made itself vulnerable to just the kind of highly financed attack that Mickey had described. He could hijack the nomination with just a little bit of luck. His idea hinged on the fact that there were only thirty days between the Iowa caucus and Super Tuesday.
He'd worked it all out in his head a thousand times. All he'd lacked was the money to pull it off. The Mafia was such an obvious answer it made him laugh. He was about to show those fucks at the DNC. The wonks had put the system up for sale and now Albert James Teagarden, the black sheep of the fraternity, was going to steal it from them.
Chapter 9
Haze Richards didn't know what to wear to the meeting. He was standing in his closet looking at the array of custom-made suits and finally chose a charcoal-gray that looked great with a dark maroon silk tie.
After dressing, Haze stood in front of a three-way mirror and patted his rock-hard stomach. At fifty-five, he was still square-jawed and broad-shouldered, with dimples in each cheek. . pale blue eyes that contact lenses enhanced to the color of tropical water. He loved the way he looked.
He flashed his capped teeth and wondered if A. J. really had something. He'd soon see for himself.
He met A. J. Teagarden in the entry foyer of the governor's mansion. They moved past the velvet ropes that separated the public area from the First Family's living quarters.
Despite the length and duration of their friendship, he and A. J. had very little in common, except for a love of the political system. They'd grown up living next door to each other. Haze had been the star athlete, lettering in football, basketball, and track. Albert J. Teagarden was president of the debating society, and Haze's campaign manager when he ran for class president. A. J. came u p w ith the strategy and Haze made the speeches, and they always won. But Haze never understood how A. J. could work so tirelessly for Haze's goals.
As they walked out of the governor's mansion, Haze thought, as usual, that A. J. looked as if he'd slept in his clothes, but Teagarden was brilliant. They moved into the parking lot and got into a white Chevy, a state plainclothes car with 'G' plates. A. J. drove the car erratically, never watching the road, looking over at Haze as he talked.
'Jesus, watch where you're going. We're gonna end up as hood ornaments on a bus,' Haze exclaimed.
'Mickey Alo is dangerous. He looks like the Pillsbury dough boy but scary as shit. Just listen to him. He's got an agenda. We don't wanna run him off. I'm not sure this is a done deal, he could be looking at other guys. . '
'Lame ask, you something.'
'Shoot.'
The Iowa Caucus is in a month. . '
'Twenty days.'
'How the hell're we gonna go in there and make a showing? Nobody knows who I am. I've got no farm policy, no strategy, no message. . '
'I can handle it. Believe me, I know what to tell those Jo-Bobs. I've been polling Iowa half my life. I worked two national campaigns in that state while you were still a DA.'
'He's gonna want things.. '
'Everybody wants something,' A. J. said, flatly.
They pulled up at the deserted gas station ten miles out of town that Mickey had picked for the meeting. Al turned off the engine.
'What're we doing here?'
'You haven't dealt with these SpaghettiOs. They thrive on bullshit. For all I know, they're gonna swoop in here in a hot-air balloon wearing Porky Pig masks.'
They showed up in a rented motor home, a big, blue and white thirty-seven-foot Winnebago with New York Tony driving.
'See,' A. J. said. 'We're in a gangster movie.'
They got out of the car and New York Tony opened the RV door to admit A. J. and Haze Richards. As soon as they were inside, New York Tony had the rig moving again. Mickey Alo was seated in the small dining booth and didn't bother to get up. Teagarden made the introductions.
'Haze, this is Mickey Alo.' Haze shook his hand but didn't sit; instead, he held on to the cabinetry as the vehicle moved along.
'This is a pleasure,' Haze said, feeling pretty good already. Mickey Alo was ugly. He knew it was foolish, but he'd learned that his looks gave him a psychological advantage over unattractive men.
