“It’s late,” Black said. “Shall we get on with this?”
Harrison shrugged. “Emmy? Why were you asking about Kyla Devane? Are you looking at her for some reason?”
“We’re looking at Irvine Carnes, and Devane’s name popped up as an oddity. Why’d he endorse her?”
“Why are you looking at Carnes?”
Emmy jerked a thumb at Alaric. “We’re still after those bloody paintings from the Becker Museum raid, and we’ve got reason to believe Carnes’s assistant picked one of them up in London the Wednesday before last. Either he’s masquerading as an art thief in his spare time, or he was there on Carnes’s behalf.”
“Carnes was always a straight shooter. I can’t see him getting involved in a robbery.”
“You also couldn’t see him endorsing Kyla Devane, right? And what would you say if I told you he once tried to buy this particular painting from the museum?”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, that’s about where we got to. I’m heading to Kentucky tomorrow with Alaric, but I want to get an idea of what we’re walking into. Forewarned is forearmed.”
“If I could tell you, I would, but quite honestly we’re scrambling here. The Devane thing blindsided everyone. But holy shit, we need to keep her out of that seat.”
“Why?” Alaric asked. He’d looked Kyla Devane up before the call, but he wanted to hear Harrison’s reasoning. “Forgive me, I haven’t been following that particular race. Isn’t she running as an independent?”
Since Harrison was the country’s first independent president, logic said he should be on her side. His victory had come after a vicious, mud-slinging battle between the Republicans and Democrats left the populace jaded, and a clever campaign coupled with people’s apparent desire for change had enabled Harrison to slide through and claim the top job. Which was pretty much the path Devane seemed to be following. Oh, and it didn’t hurt that both of Harrison’s main rivals had been tainted by scandal right before the election. A call girl for one and association with a white supremacist group for the other if Alaric recalled correctly.
“She’s unpredictable. Her policies are all over the place, and since the senate’s split forty-seven Republicans, forty-eight Democrats, and four independents after Carnes’s retirement, there are times when she could be the deciding vote.”
“Playing devil’s advocate, isn’t that a good thing? She claims her wealth will allow her to listen to the people rather than corporate lobbyists.”
“That’s bullshit. She’s not a politician, she’s a party girl trading on her family name. Look at her history. Everything Kyla Devane does is to benefit Kyla Devane, nobody else, and she doesn’t understand that if she’s making decisions on a national scale, millions of real people are going to be impacted. Hell, she promised to hold Twitter surveys to help her decide how to vote.”
“Or perhaps she does understand the impact of her decisions,” Black suggested. “When her grandfather held that seat, he voted against the minimum wage, against the equality act, against tax breaks for lower earners. Yet he pushed forward legislation that reduced estate tax and increased the lifetime exemption.” Black’s lips flickered in a poor imitation of a smile. “I should have sent him a crate of champagne. The asshole saved me a fucking fortune.” He quickly turned serious again. “But no matter. Kyla claims she’s running in his memory, doesn’t she?”
“Yes,” Harrison agreed.
“And since she personally benefited from her grandfather’s decisions, it stands to reason that she understands the influence she’d wield.”
“That’s worse than the alternative.”
“It is. And she’s not as clueless as you think. Power-hungry, yes. Narcissistic, yes. Devoid of empathy, yes. But not stupid.”
James sighed long and hard and reached for a glass of wine. “She’s running a smart campaign. Where her policies are unpalatable, she’s using her gender to appeal to women and her looks to appeal to men.”
Emmy burst out laughing. “Dude, look in the mirror. Do you have any idea how many women decided to vote for you after those shirtless pictures got splashed across the tabloids?”
“Why do you think I went surfing the weekend before the election? I froze my damn nuts off.”
Another smirk from Black. “Which was why I advised you not to wear Speedos.”
Why didn’t it surprise Alaric to find out Black had been involved in that plan? Running a presidential campaign cost a fortune, and although Harrison had a lot of grassroots support, Alaric suspected some of Black’s estate tax savings had also been funnelled in his old friend’s direction. The men might have fought over Emmy, but they still shared certain goals. And Black understood the nuances of power better than anybody.
“Can we stay on topic?” Emmy asked. “I don’t need to think about Speedos or shrivelled nuts tonight. Irvine Carnes?”
“We spoke most weeks,” James said. “He was Ranking Member on the Foreign Relations Committee, and I valued his advice. But he’s sick. Cancer. That’s why he stepped down. I wonder whether medication could be impairing his judgement, because I don’t have any other explanation for why he’s backing Devane over Biggs. I also hear he’s made a number of poor investment decisions lately.”
“What kind of cancer? Not a brain tumour?”
“It started in his lungs, but it’s spreading. They caught it late. He thought it was bronchitis and put off going to the hospital, then boom. I doubt he has long left. When you ask about this painting, tread carefully. Whatever misjudgements Carnes might have made recently, he’s still served this country well for over three decades.”
Could things get any more complicated?
“I’ll be polite,” Emmy said, and James groaned. “Okay, maybe I’ll let Alaric do the talking,” she conceded.
Gee, thanks.
“I think that would be best. And I know I shouldn’t ask, but if there’s anything you can dig up on Devane…”
“I’ll take my spade.”
“Always comes in handy for burying the bodies,” Black muttered.
James reached forward. “I didn’t hear that. I’m going
