Conspiracy

“We can’t take her back if she doesn’t want to go,” Dean told Karr.

“Gotta do something, Charlie. And we only have about a half hour to meet that boat. Telach said he’d only wait two hours.”

Dean paced back and forth along the side of the van. Karr was right. But taking Qui away against her will didn’t seem right, either.

How did you save people who didn’t want to be saved? Or rather, who did want to be saved but didn’t want your solution?

Vietnam, all over again.

“All right, come on,” Dean said finally. “Hop in the truck.”

“We going to the docks?”

“No. Plan B.”

105

Rubens was not a television aficionado and watched news shows only when absolutely forced to. But Marie Telach was right — he did want to see what was on Fox.

Not that he liked it very much.

The cable network was airing a noon press conference with Senator McSweeney in California.

“This is the first I heard about it,” said McSweeney.

“So you can’t confirm that the Secret Service is investigating whether the government of Vietnam tried to have you assassinated?” asked the reporter.

“You’re going to have to ask either the Secret Service or, I guess, the government of Vietnam.” The senator smiled as the reporters snickered. “Can we move on?”

“You weren’t even notified?” asked another reporter.

“Guys, this sounds to me like an off-the-wall rumor. Really,” said McSweeney.

More reporters pressed with questions.

“This is a replay,” said Rockman. “It aired live about ten minutes ago.”

“Why did the Secret Service tell McSweeney about the Vietnamese connection?” asked Telach.

“I don’t know,” said Rubens, turning to go back to his office and find out.

106

“how the hell did that get into the media?” roared Gideon McSweeney as he walked down the hallway after the press conference. Aides scattered; two hotel workers froze, sure that he was going to punch them in his fury. “And why the hell didn’t they tell me! Jesus H. Christ.”

“Relax, Senator,” said Jimmy Fingers. “I told you. It’s not going to hurt you.”

“The hell, says you. ‘Elect this man and start a war with Vietnam!’ There’s a slogan for you.”

“You’re overthinking it,” said Jimmy Fingers. “People are going to admire you. For one thing, it reminds them you were a war hero—”

“Don’t give me that war-hero crap, Fingers.” McSweeney pointed his finger at his aide, waving it as if it were a stick.

“You know how something like that can backfire. And I was not a hero. Heroes died. Those guys were heroes.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Gideon. Relax. This will blow over.”

McSweeney grabbed Jimmy Fingers by the arm. “Don’t tell me to relax.”

The look in Jimmy Fingers’ eyes was as sharp as a slap in the face. McSweeney let go of him, then exhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry, Jim. You’re right. I’m overreacting. I’m not sure why.”

“Pressure of the campaign. You’ll get over it.”

“Thanks.” McSweeney tapped his aide and began walking again. “You’ve been working out?”

“Not really.”

“Has Frey called you back?”

“I haven’t spoken to anyone except his aide. He wouldn’t confirm or deny.”

“You get me Frey. Make sure it’s him. I want to give him a piece of my mind.”

“I put the call in as soon as I heard the first question.” frey didn’t call back for another half hour. By then, McSweeney had sat down for dinner with a group of county party leaders. Jimmy Fingers sent someone to get the senator and in the meantime spoke to Frey himself.

“Let me give you a heads-up here,” he told the head of the Secret Service. “The senator is really, really hot about the leak.”

“I’m not too happy about it myself.”

“I calmed him down. I told him it wouldn’t have come from you. I am right, ain’t I?”

“Of course I didn’t leak it. Did you?”

“Me?”

“My aide Paul Quantril says you were asking about rumors.”

“Why would I leak it?”

“Where did you hear the rumors?” Frey’s voice still had enough of an edge to it to tell Jimmy Fingers that he thought it had come from him.

“A reporter. I don’t know what his source was, but I can guess it was the White House.”

“The White House?”

“There are people there trying to make the Vietnamese look bad,” said Jimmy Fingers. “I assume this was part of their agenda. They don’t like Senator McSweeney, either, but I don’t think that entered into their calculations.” Jimmy Fingers looked up and saw Senator McSweeney striding across the suite room. The aide he’d sent to fetch McSweeney was nowhere in sight, clearly having been left in the dust.

“Brace yourself,” Jimmy Fingers told Frey before handing over the phone.

107

“The leak did not come from us,” Frey told Rubens. “Less than a dozen people are even aware of that theory.”

“Where do you think it came from?”

“I’m not sure. James Fahey, McSweeney’s ferret-faced right-hand man, thinks someone in the White House leaked it, trying to make points against Vietnam. Personally, I think he said that to keep suspicion off himself. He called my office saying he’d heard rumors a few hours before this came out. They call Fahey Jimmy Fingers because he’s got his fingers in everything,” added Frey. “He’s always playing some angle.”

“I would not necessarily rule Mr. Fahey’s theory out,” said Rubens.

“Who?”

“Without evidence, I would hesitate to accuse anyone,” said Rubens, though he had an obvious candidate: Bing.

“There are some agendas there that this would play into.”

“If I find the person, I’ll break them in two.” Most people grew calmer as they talked; Frey seemed to do the opposite.

“If they leaked this, what else did they leak? And what will they leak tomorrow?”

“Yes,” said Rubens.