only a few cars on the lower level. One of them was a brown Rolls- Royce which sat facing the exit ramp, its motor mumbling softly.
Hotchins guided his Buick down the ramp and parked beside it. As he got out of his car the rear door of the Rolls swung open and Hotchins got into its elegant interior. DeLaroza was sipping a cup of espresso, an enormous Havana cigar smouldering in his fist. He grinned as the senator sat beside him and he pressed a button in the armrest near his elbow. A window rose silently between the front and back seats.
‘Bom dia,’ DeLaroza said.
Hotchins shook his hand warmly. ‘I feel like I’m in the CIA,’ he said, ‘sneaking around parking lots just to have a chat. You should have come to the hotel. I want you to meet Lowenthal.’
‘All in time,’ DeLaroza said. ‘I still put a high price on my privacy. When it becomes necessary for me to become a. more public person, then I will deal with that problem at he time. So, what is so urgent?’
‘Lowenthal’s in.’
‘Excellent, excellent!’ DeLaroza cried.
‘And he’s bringing in McGuire, Casterone, and Harmon with him.’
‘Ah! Even better. That is splendid news. More than you had hoped for, eh?’
Hotchins’s voice became flat and hard. His eyes narrowed. ‘I was counting on it,’ he said. ‘Lowenthal is like an ace in a poker game. Without help he could be beat by a pair of deuces.’
‘An interesting analogy. And who are these deuces?’
‘Fitzgerald and Humphrey.’
So, the National Committee has made its choice.’
‘Yes.’
‘It is no surprise, my friend, right’?’
‘No. And I like it this way,’ Hotchins said. ‘When the convention’s over, we’ll have Fitzgerald at our feet. That’s what I want. I want them all to line up and kiss my ass.’
DeLaroza’s eyebrows arched as he listened to Hotchins’s venom spii1 out. He said, ‘I am sure Fitzgerald is aware of this threat.’
‘Sure he is. They’re going to fight us hard and dirty. That’s all right. It’ll make the victory that much sweeter. .1 tell you, Victor, I can taste it. Taste it.’ Hotchins’s eyes burned with almost sensual delight as he spoke.
‘Easy, my friend. Save that energy, it is a long time between now and July.’
But Hotchins’s ardour could not be stemmed. He bad contained himself in Lowenthal’s presence, not wishing to reveal his need. Now he let go, savouring what he felt was a sweet victory.
‘1 can feel it in my bones,’ he said. ‘Lowenthal’s committed. He’s excited, enthusiastic. And he’s a brilliant tactician. Just what we need to go up against the committee. Now we can beat ‘em, I know it. We can grind the sons of bitches under.’
DeLaroza stared at the senator and puffed on his Havana. Somewhere within the immaculate framework of the Rolls an exhaust fan quietly sucked the smoke from the rear compartment.
‘You remember a movie with Brando called
‘Why? What’s the point?’
‘You remind me of a one-eyed jack. The rest of the world sees only half your face. They see the veteran hero, the warm family man, charging windmills, tilting with the political machines. How many people ever see the other side, the hidden face of the jack?’
‘Why, what do you see there?’ Hotchins asked cautiously.
‘A barracuda. A competitor with big needs, big hungers. it is what attracted me to you, Donald. That is why you will win. It will not be because of Lowenthal or Casterone or any of the others. You will win because you have an instinct for the jugular and that will surprise them.’
Hotchins leaned forward in the seat, tense and suddenly uneasy. They had never talked this openly before. Finally he said, ‘Takes one to know one, right, Victor?’
‘Oh, I am not a barracuda,’ DeLaroza said. ‘The barracuda is selective, it picks its victims to appease its appetite. I am a shark, Donald. I will eat anything that comes in my way.’
‘Sounds like a warning,’ Hotchins said.
‘No. I want to make sure you are aware that I too have big appetites. And I also go for the throat.’
Hotchins pondered the comment for a few moments and then laughed. ‘All right,’ be said.
DeLaroza laughed with him. He puffed on the cigar again, then said, ‘Now, what are the complications?’
It was Hotchins’s turn to raise his eyebrows. ‘Complications? Who said anything about complications?’
‘My friend, there are always complications.’
Hotchins rubbed his hands together but said nothing.
‘1 would guess,’ said DeLaroza, ‘that it is money.’
‘You’re a mind reader.’
‘Not really. The last thing one always discusses is the price.’
Hotchins’s blue eyes grew colder. He looked DeLaroza hard in the eyes. ‘The price is two million dollars.’
