The Beijing conspiracy

CHAPTER 88

O n the front page of Atlanta’s major daily newspaper, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, two headlines shared the front page: SEVEN DAYS

The advantage of incumbency and the fear of another attack was beginning to tell. President Bolton’s position and rhetoric against Muslim terrorists had moved even further to the right than the tough stance he’d been renowned for when he was Vice President. In many parts of Europe, his refusal to negotiate with anyone who was not with America in the war on terror, including Iran and Syria, was seen as arrogant. He was known as the ‘ugly American’ in Europe but his speeches had started to resonate with the American people who increasingly saw themselves under siege from the rest of the world.

‘Richard Halliwell might have a big smile,’ Chuck Bolton was fond of saying, ‘but this is war and this country needs more than dental floss to defeat an enemy who’s hell bent on destroying our way of life.’

With just five primaries to go, the Republican Convention was going to be won and lost in the next few weeks. The photograph on the front page of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution showed Richard with his arm around Constance, campaigning in Louisiana. He’d dismissed the latest polls but Simone thought he looked to be in trouble and she decided she would give it one last try to get on the team. She picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial for Richard’s mobile.

‘Halliwell.’

‘Richard, it’s Simone,’ she said. Knowing that her name would have come up on Richard’s phone she kept her anger at his curt response in check. ‘I saw the vote tallies and I thought I’d let you know that the offer of help on your campaign is still open.’ Simone couldn’t remember feeling this powerless.

‘How many times do I have to say this, Simone. If it were up to me that would be fine,’ Halliwell said irritably. He wasn’t quite ready to fire her as he needed her to run things back in Atlanta, but the time was fast approaching. ‘I’ve discussed this with Esposito before. He’s given a flat no and you’ve as good as said it yourself, image is everything. I’m running a campaign on family values, and Constance is going to be in every photo opportunity we get. Unless there’s a problem down there, don’t interrupt the campaign.’ The line went dead.

Simone glared at the photograph. Despite Esposito’s instructions, the well-endowed blonde she had seen in some of the earlier campaign photographs was there again, almost out of shot. When Simone had asked what the woman’s role was Halliwell had been defensive. ‘For Christ’s sake, Simone,’ Halliwell had exploded. ‘She’s a political science graduate from Georgia University.’

The reminders of the man she had hoped she would one day accompany into the White House were everywhere. The previous month’s copy of Pharmaceutical, the industry’s major glossy magazine had a picture of Richard on the front cover. Simone had already read the article, but she picked up the magazine again and had begun to flick through it when a small advertisement in the classifieds caught her eye. ‘Executive Assistant For High Profile CEO’. The company wasn’t named but the job description seemed uncannily like the one she’d applied for eight years before; then she saw Richard’s private box number. Jealous and angry, Simone searched for the spare set of keys she had for Richard’s desk drawers. Up until now she’d never felt the need to search them but if there were any job applications in the drawers or in his safe, Simone was determined to find them.

Other than some of his personal papers, the first drawers drew a blank. In the larger bottom drawer, there was a file containing the folders from applicants for her job. The first five had been rejected. Probably wouldn’t come across, Simone thought angrily. The sixth file contained a letter of appointment as Executive Personal Assistant to Dr Richard Halliwell, Chief Executive Officer of Halliwell Pharmaceuticals. The letter was a copy of one that had been sent to Ms Sally McLeod. On the inside of the file was a photograph of a leggy blonde matching the one on the front page of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Simone pushed the button on the side of Halliwell’s desk. As the liquor cabinet swung out from the wall, she walked over and reached for the bottle of Chivas Regal.