Wild Card

28

Holly Barker was at home in Georgetown, in the beautiful house that once belonged to Will Lee, but for which Stone had traded his Santa Fe property, and then made available to the State Department for her residence. She buzzed her secretary who worked with some others, including campaign workers, in storerooms adjacent to the commodious downstairs garage.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Please call Senator Peter Rule’s Washington office, and tell him or his secretary that there is a package being delivered to him as we speak. Ask her when he has a free moment, and to ask him to unwrap it and wait for a call.”

“Right away, ma’am.” She called back. “The senator is waiting.”

Holly took her throwaway phone and pressed a button.

“This is Peter, Holly,” he answered.

“Good. Stone Barrington has relayed to me your expression of interest in running for higher office. I was very interested to hear it.”

“Thank you, I’m pleased to hear of your interest.”

“Stone has also told me that, should a political necessity arise, you’re willing to step aside.”

“That is correct. I’m not running for reelection to the Senate for another two years.”

“Peter, I’ve asked a small number of prominent Democrats to act as surrogates and give speeches and talks on my behalf at times when I have a scheduling conflict, or the event doesn’t quite rise to the level of a major campaign appearance. I’d like you to join that group.”

“I’d be delighted for the opportunity,” Peter said, realizing immediately that, even if he wasn’t selected as her running mate, he would be speaking to the same people whose support he would need at a later date.

“Do you have personal transportation available?”

“I have an enormous SUV and a smaller airplane that will hold nearly as many on fairly short flights.”

“Very good. You can bill the campaign for your fuel costs, but we can’t cover damage, maintenance, insurance, garaging, or hangaring.”

“Understood. I’ll set up a bank account separate from my own to handle campaign expenditures and receipts and keep accurate records.”

“Fine. I’m messengering over to you a packet of position papers, which you should commit to memory, if possible. Before each appearance you’ll get a briefing paper that includes specific talking points and a list of important people you’ll be meeting at the speaking locations. The campaign will handle hotel arrangements and, if necessary, airline tickets for you and an aide or two. A campaign advance man or woman will be assigned to each venue to select auditoria and other speaking places, such as the rear of a flatbed truck, and to see that an audio and video system are up and running. We’ll keep recordings of each event for the DNC and posterity, which will help keep us from being misquoted. We’ll have four Dixieland bands on the road, and one of them will usually play what we might call preludes and recessionals for each event. Do you have any questions?”

“To whom do I report?”

“To Senator Sam Meriwether, the campaign chairman, and anyone else he may designate. If something really important comes up that I need to know about immediately, you may call me, but only on the phone I sent you. My private number is on the contacts list. There is also a custom-made holster for the phone, which you will wear on your belt, and you must never lose the phone or loan it to anyone else, even for a single call. If, God forbid, you should lose the phone, call Sam or his designee, and it will be wiped clean remotely and made unusable by anyone who should steal it or find it.”

“What about scheduling conflicts for myself?”

“Have an assistant keep your schedule on our website, and we’ll endeavor not to interfere with important committee meetings or votes. We will accept your judgment on what you can’t miss. Anything else?”

“Nothing, Holly. I’ll await your instructions. One comment, though: I expect there will be venues where a country band might be more attractive to the audience than Dixieland. I’ll leave it to the campaign to decide which bands and which venues.”

“I’ll pass that along. Welcome aboard, Peter. I hope we’ll be together for a long time.”

“So do I.” They both hung up. Peter took a deep breath to calm himself. This was his second step; the first had been his conversation with Stone Barrington. He would note this in his diary, which he kept secret from everyone but his wife.

Moments later Peter’s secretary, Anna Lopez, came into his office, followed by a man pushing a hand truck containing two large cardboard boxes. “This came from Holly Barker,” she said.

“Have a seat, Anna,” he said, then waved goodbye to the porter. “We need to talk.” He noticed a look of concern flicker over her face, and he held up a hand. “Nothing like that, poorly chosen words. It’s just that you have a decision to make, and I stress that whatever you decide will be gratefully accepted by me. There is no wrong answer.”

“What is the question, Senator?”

“You have to choose between two jobs: one is what you’re doing now, but with increased authority over the staff. Your title will be administrative officer, and you will move up one civil service grade. The other may be less attractive to you.”

“And what is that?” she asked.

“You will take a leave of absence from my Senate office and work directly for me, paid by me, with an increase in salary, at an office in my home.”

She looked concerned again. She was an attractive woman with a lot of experience working in the Capitol, and she was adept at fending off passes gracefully. “Yes?”

“Secretary of State Holly Barker has asked me to join her campaign as one of a few surrogates who will speak for her when she is unavailable, or when an event may not be important enough to her election to require her attendance. I would like for you to manage my time, keep my speaking schedule, with attention to conflicts with Senate votes and committee hearings, and essentially hold it all together. The hours may be odd and long.”

“May I assume that your participation has a long-range purpose, beyond getting the secretary elected?”

“You may assume anything you like,” Peter replied with a small, conspiratorial smile. “Let’s say that I hope you won’t be working in my basement for too very long.”

“What will you do, if Ms. Barker is not elected?”

“You and I will both return to this work and wait for another day.”

“Then my decision is to accept your second offer,” she said.

“Good. You may choose your successor in this office, and you may hire another person to assist you, at a salary you designate. I hardly need tell you what a high level of intelligence, hard work, and integrity I will expect from such a person, because you have, yourself, long maintained that standard.”

“Thank you, Senator. Now, what should I do with these boxes?”

“Have them delivered to my house, along with yourself. There is parking in my basement, and you will find a couple of usable rooms there. Start outfitting them for your use and that of your assistant.

“Thank you for your service to the United States Senate. You are now relieved from your duties for an undetermined length of absence.”

Anna Lopez turned to her new work.