The Chosen One

18

Washington, DC, Wednesday March 22, 22.15 ‘So now it’s your decision.’

‘I know.’

‘You’ve spoken to colleagues. They say you’ll have the full weight of the Republican party in Congress behind you.’

‘They say that. You know how much verbal agreements are worth in this town.’

‘I do, sir. They’re not worth the paper they’re written on.’

That one word had done it, as she surely knew it would. Sir. Said like that, in that sweet, eyelash-fluttering way of hers. He felt his loins stirring. This little routine he had with Cindy always turned him on, but she was playing it more expertly than ever tonight, the demure-yet-pert Southern belle with a hint of sauce beneath that courtly exterior. She only had to call him ‘sir’ in that educated Charleston accent, and he was transported back to the nineteenth century: he was master of the house and she was bending over to submit to his will…

He looked at his watch: ten fifteen. He would have to act fast. But still he wanted to go through the arguments one last time. ‘If this is to work, Cindy, then the Forbes stuff is critical. It’s just the lunatics right now, but we have to make the base believe. Tell me again. What’s Rush been saying?’

‘He’s saying the American people have the right to raise questions. No more than that.’

‘Beck?’

‘Good. He interviewed an expert on murder cases that were faked to look like suicide.’

‘So you think this could stick? If I’m to make this move, our folks have to be dead certain that Stephen Baker had Vic Forbes killed.’

Obligingly, Cindy turned around, giving him a chance to see her from behind, and bent over to retrieve a piece of paper from her briefcase – taking rather longer to do so than was strictly necessary.

‘We don’t have many allies down there, not after-’ She paused, reluctant to say the word that had inflicted such damage on Republicans. ‘After Katrina. Governor Tett is ours, obviously, but he’s surrounded by Democrats. Especially in New Orleans itself.’

‘Journalists?’

‘The good news is that the National Enquirer is sniffing around.’

‘That is good news.’

‘If there’s something to find, they’ll find it.’

He looked out of the window, contemplating the long sweep of twinkling lights that was the American capital. He watched the slow red winking at the top of the Washington monument.

‘You do realize how serious this is, don’t you, Cindy?’

‘I do.’

‘This is the big one. It’s the bunker-buster. If we get it right, Baker will be finished.’

‘And you, sir, will only just be started.’ She fluttered her eyelashes again, signalling a return to character. ‘Strike me hard if I’m wrong.’

That was it, the surge of lust was now too great to resist. Senator Rick Franklin glanced down at the portrait on his desk, the one that showed him and his four children smiling warmly at the lens, while his wife of eighteen years gazed adoringly up at him: the full Nancy Reagan, as that particular pose was known in the political communications industry. He turned the picture face down, so that it lay flat against the wood, right next to the discreet statuette he had received when he was anointed a ‘Hero of the American Family’ by the Christian Coalition.

He looked at his watch. If they were quick, there was time.

‘Now, Cindy, I am about to follow the rules of this house and administer the punishment that you deserve. First, is the outer door of the office locked in the usual fashion?’

‘It is, sir.’

‘Second, are you wearing that underwear that you know tempts your master?’

‘The one sir calls “the eyepatch”?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Yes, sir. I’m ashamed to say I am.’

They were practised enough, the Senator and his aide, that they could run through the whole ritual – all the way to climax (his) – in a matter of minutes.

Once it was done, he felt ready to make the move that he knew would define his career and might well alter the course of American history. He zipped up his fly, buckled his belt and nodded that Cindy, now straightening her stockings, should stay.

He dialled the number Cindy had put in front of him, the first move in a sequence that he had never had to follow before; heard the operator answer and realized, with a rush of adrenalin, the import of what he was about to do.

‘This is Senator Rick Franklin. I need to speak to the President of the United States.’