The Plan

Chapter 29

"These tracking polls are unbelievable," A. J. was saying. He was in Haze's hotel room in the Savoy. A. J. wanted Haze to stay with the Caulfields, but Haze wa s a damant, and in the long run, A. J. figured, it wasn't wort h t he effort. So they'd moved him into a suite on the sevent h f loor.

It was ten A. M., the morning of the Iowa Caucus. The campaign staff was gathered in Haze's room. . Besides Haze, Carol Wakano, the Rouchards, Ven and Van, Malcolm and Susan Winter were scattered around the suite in blue jeans and T-shirts, while A. J. moved back and forth in front of the window that framed a gray Iowa morning.

"Over all, we're tracking at twenty-one percent. We've knocked Skatina down to forty. He's not even gonna get a majority if this is accurate. The rest of these clucks are out of it. Gulliford is at ten, Savage at seven, Dehaviland. . Get this-he's tracking at four percent after spending a whole two months kissing blue-ribbon pigs and getting tractor-seat hemorrhoids. Undecideds are down to twelve percent and leaning our way."

"How are the internals?" Malcolm asked.

"We've got a net plus of nine percentage points. On values, we're plus seven. Economy, we're plus fifteen-and we haven't said one thing about how to fix it, change it, or deal with it. Fucking amazing." A. J. was bouncing around the room. "I'm telling you, the message is a winner, a major pony. We're gonna come in second tonight, just like we planned. Then we're gonna get on that commuter train and ride down to New York and we're gonna fix what ails the Teamsters and the Truckers Association."

"How 'm I gonna do that?" Haze asked. "I don't even know what those guys are arguing about."

"I got it worked out, babe. Don't I always have it worked out?" He moved over and patted Haze on the cheek like an adoring parent.

Haze slapped his hand away. "Cut the shit, A. J. I need to talk to you."

"Okay, boys and girls, everybody go get brunch."

They all trooped out except Susan Winter, who was lounging in short-shorts and a halter top on the chair next to Haze. She made no move to leave, and Haze didn't shoo her out as the others left. Once they were gone, Haze got to his feet.

"How 'm I gonna solve the Teamsters strike? I walk in there with those guys, with the whole world watching. I look like a fool if I don't pull it off."

"Would you mind leaving us alone, Susan?" A. J. said to the twenty-five-year-old body woman, who was flexing her naked thighs seductively as she wiggled her toes in white, beaded moccasins.

"She can stay."

"I'm not gonna discuss this unless we're alone." "You must of forgot, I'm the candidate for President of the United States."

"Shit," A. J. said, spit-spraying across the room. Some of it landed on Susan Winter's bare legs and she wiped it off with a grimace. "You actually think this is about you?"

"Of course it's about me. It's not your face, not your reputation that they're talking about."

"But they're my ideas, Haze. I'm the guy who comes up with the bullshit."

The argument arose so fast, it startled both of them.

"You wanna know how you're gonna solve the Teamster strike? I'll tell you, but get her out of here!"

The tension in the room multiplied again before Haze finally moved to the door and opened it. "Give us a minute, Sue."

She got up and moved out, taking her time, showing how she felt about it. When the door closed, Haze spun on A. J.

"I've had it with this shit! I won't be treated like some dumb asshole. I don't need you to tell me what I think."

"Hey Haze, if I wasn't here, you'd be selling twenty-year life policies for Aetna, and if you don't think I'm right, give me the gate and see how far this campaign goes"

"You're pissed off because I took Susan and you wanted her."

"No, I'm pissed off because every good idea, every piece of worthwhile strategy that ever happened for you came outta my head. And now we're sitting here, ready to make the biggest play of our lives, and you start sounding like you're actually responsible. I put Mickey Alo in the picture. I set up the debate. I came up with the defining event. Me! Not you! Me! And if you start to read the newspaper and think this is about you, then you're the stupidest son of a bitch on the planet!"

They glowered at each other across a threadbare carpet. Finally, Haze took a deep breath.

"How does this Teamster thing work?"

"I don't know. Mickey is working it out. He told me it's a done deal; all you gotta do is go down there, walk in that room with those two guys, spend an hour, walk out and announce that you made it happen. You brought management and labor together. You made America work again."

"I wanna know the terms of the agreement first."

"You wanna ratify the fucking contract?" A. J. was stunned. "All you know about trucks is they're hard to get around on the turnpike."

"Trucking wages and mileage fees affect the cost of goods. It's an expense that's passed on to the consumers. It directly affects the economic viability of our products in the world marketplace."

"Haze, stay out of it. You don't know shit about it. Let Mickey do the thinking. All you gotta do is take the credit."

Haze reached out and poked A. J. in the chest.

"Don't you ever humiliate me in front of my staff again.

Don't ever treat me like that again." 'or…?"

"Or you're gone. I'll replace you."

"And who will do your thinking for you?"

"I will."

"I've known you since you thought it was funny to blow up Coke cans with firecrackers. Lemme tell you something, bubba. . You'd have trouble thinking your way out of a parked taxi. If it wasn't for me, you'd be nothing. If you wanna throw me out of the campaign just so that piece of ass outside thinks you're hot shit, then go ahead, but you won't be going to the White House."

A. J. turned and walked out of the room.

The Iowa Caucus results came in slowly that night because of a problem with the counting machines, but it was clear by nine o'clock that Haze Richards had done extremely well. . and he'd done so at the expense of the

Democratic front-runner, Leo Skatina. The headline in the next morning's Register-Guard was: RICHARDS ON THE MOVE IOWA VOTERS GIVE RHODE ISLAND GOVERNOR 25 PERCENT

It was a huge showing. He had gone from nowhere to second in just twenty days, a seemingly impossible task. The networks were already beginning to call it 'The Iowa Miracle."

"Who is this political phenomenon and why did he strike such a chord in Iowa?" the NBC newscast said.

UBC declared Haze Richards the candidate to watch. Steve Israel included man-on-the-street interviews from Des Moines and Cedar Rapids, choosing only the ones that gave Haze the best boost. A UBC exit poll estimated, without any hard data to back it up, that had the Iowa Caucus taken place a week later, Haze would have actually won. In the last two days, Haze had acquired a press contingent of almost a hundred pod people and blow-dries. They were now following him around in two Greyhound StratoCruisers.

Vidal Brown held a press conference at the airport the morning after the election, just before they left on a charter flight for New Hampshire. Haze stood behind him, looking pleased. Also on the platform were Bud and Sarah Caulfield, who hadn't seen Haze, except on TV, for almost a week.

"And now," Vidal said, "I'd like to present to you the man from Providence, Rhode Island, who is destined to bring Providence to America. . the next President of the United States, Haze Richards!"

Haze stepped forward on the small luggage platform that they were using as a makeshift stage. TV cameras panned and zoomed; his smile was washed in a halogen glow.

"Thank you. I want to thank the Iowa voters for their support." He turned to the ruddy farmer standing to his right. "And I want to promise Bud and Sarah Caulfield I'll be back. And when I get here, I intend to have legislation pending that will help them. We're about to take this country back and we're gonna do it for Americans like the Caulfields." Sarah reached out and grabbed hi s h and.

Japanese cameras recorded the event.

"Governor Richards," a reporter called from the crowd. "Bud Renick and Tom Bartel have issued an invitation for you to come to New York and talk to them about the deadlocked Teamster negotiations. Is that something you're planning to do?"

"I intend to go to New Hampshire and fulfill two days of my campaign schedule; then I'll go to New York on Tuesday, if I'm still invited, and I'll see what I can do to help fix that situation."

A. J. had timed the meeting so the Teamster victory would guarantee New Hampshire. He thought the afterglow should last for two weeks if they worked the media right. The late momentum should carry them through Super Tuesday.

They boarded the plane and took off at four in the afternoon. Iowans waved good-bye till the plane was out of sight.

By the time they landed in New Hampshire, Brenton Spencer was already reporting the evening news. "A bombshell exploded in the Democratic presidential primary today as a small-time underworld player on trial for contract tampering in New York testified that Leo Skatina had made promises to the mob." The shot switched to a courtroom videotape where a street villain named "Too Fat" Jack Vasacci was sitting in a paneled witness box, his jowls dripping sweat on Armani lapels. "So we calls this guy in Albany who could get the job done."

"And who was the man in Albany?" the prosecutor's voice said, off camera.

"His name was Christopher Delco. He's an aide to Senator Leo Skatina."

"And this man told you, you had the freeway contracts sewed up before the bids were filed?"

`That's what Deleo said. He said it went all the way to the senator for approval."

The shot switched back to Brenton Spencer, who looked solemnly into the camera from his anchor chair on the Rim. "The senator had no comment. As a matter of fact, he was unavailable today. His press secretary said that Mr. Deleo was no longer an aide of Senator Skatina, and that the testimony given under oath in the federal courthouse was totally untrue. He said further that Skatina as a U. S. senator was not involved in the issuance of state contracts. We'll be tracking this story as it develops."

Haze watched the late report from his suite at the Manchester House in Manchester, New Hampshire. He smiled as Leo Skatina was damned by the unsubstantiated charge.

He had no idea that A. J. had arranged the whole thing.