Powersat

Washington, D.C.

“It’s a mistake, Senator.”

Jane Thornton said nothing; she merely continued walking along the side of the reflecting pool, her back to the giant phallic Washington Monument, her eyes on the classic beauty of the Lincoln Memorial. The smell of freshly cut grass filled the air. It was a warm afternoon; tourists and office workers were strolling along the lawn or sprawling on the grass, soaking up the sun. Jane wondered inwardly, How many of them are federal workers who should be at their desks? She smiled slightly at the thought that “federal worker” could be regarded as the biggest oxymoron of them all.

The man beside her was grossly overweight, sweating heavily in his summerweight suit, tie pulled loose from his wilted collar. He misunderstood her smile.

“You think it’s funny?” asked Denny O’Brien. “It isn’t, you know. We’re talking about your political future.”

“I understand that,” Senator Thornton said, without taking her eyes off the distant Lincoln Memorial. Squinting, she thought she could make out the form of the heroic statue inside the graceful Greek columns. Hidden by a grassy knoll off to the right was the Vietnam Wall. To the left, the Korean Veterans’ Memorial.

“I mean, you back a dark horse and win, you’re a genius,” O’Brien went on, wheezing slightly. “But you back a dark horse and lose, like Scanwell would lose, and you’re an idiot.”

Very few people could speak that way to Senator Thornton. O’Brien was one of them. He had engineered her campaign for reelection to the Senate. Now he was worried that she was going to throw it all away.

“Scanwell hasn’t got a chance, Senator.”

Senator Thornton at last turned her eyes to the globulous O’Brien. In high heels she was inches taller than he, and even though she was wearing comfortable flats at the moment, she still looked down at him. Her long auburn hair was done up off her graceful neck in a stylish swirl. Her skirted suit of pale green was modest, yet heads still turned as she strolled along the pool. She was not merely beautiful: Jane Thornton was regal, tall and stately, possessed of the porcelain-skinned, greeneyed beauty of a Norse goddess. Yet she had a reputation for being cold, aloof, a hard-headed, no-nonsense Ice Queen.

O’Brien was becoming frustrated by her frosty silence. “Come on, Senator, face it: Scanwell’s a nobody!”

“He’s governor of Texas,” she said calmly.

Squinting in the sunshine, O’Brien countered, “Not every governor of Texas becomes president of the United States.”

“Morgan Scanwell will.”

O’Brien looked as if he wanted to hop up and down in frustrated fury. He’d give himself a heart attack if he did, Senator Thornton thought.

“You can’t declare for him! It’d be political suicide!”

“Not if he wins, Denny.”

“Which he won’t,” O’Brien retorted sullenly.

“Denny, there’s no sense our going around this bush any more. I want to back Morgan Scanwell. I want to throw the entire Oklahoma delegation to him at the convention—”

“He won’t make it to the convention. He’ll be wiped out by Super Tuesday. Maybe by the New Hampshire primary.”

“If you knew him you wouldn’t feel that way,” said Senator Thornton.

“He’s just a hick from the sticks, Senator! A rube from nowheres-ville.”

“That’s what they thought in Dallas and Houston,” she replied. “And in Austin. But he won. He beat them all and won the governorship. And he can win the White House, with the proper backing.”

“No way.”

She stopped walking and turned to face O’Brien. His face was dripping sweat. He seemed to be visibly melting, like a snowman in the sun.

“Denny, I’m flying to Tulsa tomorrow night. Come and join me there. Meet the man. Is that asking too much?”

O‘Brien gave her a mistrustful look. While many in Washington thought that Senator Thornton’s physical appearance was her greatest asset, O’Brien and a handful of other insiders knew that the senator’s ability to convince people, her skill at changing the minds of erstwhile opponents, was the true key to her success.

“Overnight?” he asked warily.

“I’ll be gone for the weekend. One day in Tulsa to keep my home fences mended, and then at home at the ranch.”

“I’ll come to the ranch,” O’Brien said. “Okay?”

“Fine,” she said.

“Great. Now let’s get out of this sun!” O’Brien stalked off toward the nearest bar.