Grass Roots Page 10

  She glanced at Manny and saw that his arm was dangling from the bed. Alarmed, she went and checked his pulse. Still there, still steady. It had been steady since the third day, when they had taken him off the respirator. Tenderly, she passed a hand over the bandages that swathed most of his head above the nose. Satisfied, she tucked his arm under the covers and went back to her chair and her knitting. A moment later, for the first time since Christmas Eve, her husband moved in his bed.

  “Putz!” Manny said suddenly.

  Leah dropped her knitting and ran to the bedside. Manny was staring at the ceiling. “Gonif!” he yelled. “Schmuck!”

  “Now, dear,” she said, breathing hard and reaching for the call button, “just lie quietly, and the doctor will be here in a minute.” She hoped he’d mind his language when the doctor came.

  A nurse, blond and pretty, put her head inside the door. “What is it, Mrs. Pearl?”

  “He’s awake!” Leah stammered. “Get the doctor!”

  The nurse walked over to the bed, took Manny’s bandaged face in her hands, and checked his pupils. “Can you hear me, Mr. Pearl?” she said loudly.

  “Of course I can hear you, sugar,” Manny said, smiling. “You should be in show business, you know. You want a job?”

  “Manny!” Leah said. “Watch your mouth!”

  The nurse left the room, and Manny turned to her. “Hello, sweetheart.” He looked around him and frowned. “They killed those three boys, didn’t they? I saw them do it.”

  “Yes, Manny,” Leah said. “But they didn’t kill you.”

  “Damned right, they didn’t. The putz! He didn’t have to do it! They could have had everything! I even offered them the car!” He looked at her. “Did they take the car?”

  “No, Manny. It’s home in the garage. Not a scratch on it.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” Manny said.

  A young doctor appeared and began examining Manny. He held up his hand. “How many fingers, Mr. Pearl?”

  “Two,” Manny replied. “It was that fucking preacher that was behind it,” he said.

  “Manny, watch your language!” Leah commanded.

  “Follow my finger,” the doctor said, moving his hand back and forth in front of Manny’s face.

  “I’m sorry, Leah,” Manny said. “I apologize for my language, Doctor.”

  “That’s okay, Mr. Pearl. I’m glad to hear you talking.”

  Manny looked at him narrowly. “How old are you?” he demanded.

  “Why do you want to know that?” the doctor asked.

  “How long you been a doctor?”

  The doctor laughed. “Long enough to know that you’re an amazing medical phenomenon. You want somebody with a little gray at the temples; is that it?”

  “I don’t trust young,” Manny said. “Get me old.”

  “Not a gray hair around, I’m afraid. I’ll have to do until the real thing comes along. Now, I want you just to lie quietly. I’m going to order some more X-rays and I want a neurologist to see you. I warn you, though, he’s pretty young, too.”

  “Never mind X-rays,” Manny said.

  “Mr. Pearl, you’ve been shot twice, and you’ve had a lot of surgery.”

  “I have? Am I all right?”

  “That’s what I want to find out—just how all right you are.”

  “Okay, do your worst,” Manny said. “But first, I want a cop.”

  “A cop?”

  “Lots of cops. I got a lot to say. I’m not seeing this neurologist guy until I’ve seen a cop. Tell them to put the siren on. I got a lot to tell them.”

  *

  The detective sergeant looked up from his notebook. “Is there anything else, Mr. Pearl?”

  “The tall one with the barn-door ears and the nose, he shouldn’t be too hard to find. Nobody else could look like that.”

  “We’ll get his description on the wire right away.”

  “I think he’s military,” Manny said. “I was in the army. I think he was, too. Or maybe the Marines.”

  “What about him makes you say that?” the detective asked.

  “Everything about him. The way he stood, the way he gave orders. Retired, maybe. You know how they join young, get out after twenty years or something? Like that.”

  “Well, we can check with the Pentagon, but do you have any idea how many retired military people there are in Georgia?”

  “Not an officer, though. A noncom,” Manny said. “A master sergeant, I’ll give you odds. You know what pricks sergeants are.”

  “Manny!” Leah blurted.

  “Sorry, Sergeant,” Manny said sheepishly. “I meant army, not cops.”

  “That’s okay, Mr. Pearl,” the sergeant said. “I was in the army, too. I know about sergeants.”

  “Do you know about TV preachers?” Manny asked.

  “Now, listen, Mr. Pearl,” the detective said seriously. “I wouldn’t go around saying that, if I were you. Granted, Calhoun had some pickets from his church at your store, but that doesn’t connect him with what happened. A lot of people in this town think Calhoun is some kind of saint. My mother is among them, although I think she’s nuts. She’s been sending part of her Social Security check to that guy. It burns me up.”

  A doctor who was leaning against the wall of the room spoke up. “If that’s about it, Sergeant, I’d like to see if Mr. Pearl can wiggle his fingers and toes.”

  “I’ll tell you something, Doctor,” the sergeant said, “I wouldn’t want to arm-wrestle Mr. Pearl for money right now.” He turned to his partner. “Let’s get out of here and let Mr. Pearl wear out this doctor.”

  “Okay, Doc,” Manny said, “you’re next. Let’s get on with it.”

  14

  It was after midnight when Will got back to Georgetown, and he was exhausted. He started for his own house, but ended up at Kate’s. He let himself into the house, tapping the burglar-alarm code into a keypad and ringing the doorbell three times to alert her. There was a 9 mm automatic pistol in her beside-table drawer, and he didn’t want any accidents.

  “What’s up?” she asked sleepily, moving over to let him under the covers.

  “A lot,” he said, climbing in beside her. He told her about the Senator’s new note-writing skills.

  She listened in silence, now fully awake, and when he had finished, she still didn’t say anything.

  “You see where I am,” he said finally.

  “Yes, I suppose I do,” she replied. “You’re going to run, aren’t you? In spite of our deal.”

  “Yes,” Will said. “I don’t have any other choice. It’s the mirror image of the way things were last week. Then, I couldn’t run, because I thought I would hurt him. Now, I have to run, and for exactly the same reason.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “You know, a couple of weeks ago, everything was in such good shape. We both had what we wanted—me, the Senator’s support against Barnett; you, the new job at the Agency.”

  “And we both had a plan to marry,” she said.

  “Yes. And now everything has changed, been moved up, and we both have commitments to others.”

  “Yes. Commitments we both have to keep,” she said quietly.

  “You can’t do this with me, can you?” he asked.

  “You know I can’t. I’m already up to my neck. Two people took early retirement when they didn’t get the job. I could never live with myself if I walked out now.”

  “And I could never live with myself if I didn’t run now.”

  She snuggled close and put her head on his shoulder. “I wish I could go down there with you and do my part.”

  He put an arm around her and turned to face her. “So do I. But I understand why you can’t. Really, I do.”

  “We can keep on the way we are, can’t we?” she whispered.

  “Sure we can,” he whispered back, but he wasn’t sure. “I won’t be able to get up here much between now and election day,” he said.

  “I won’t be able to c
ome down there,” she said. “Or even meet you anywhere. I’m at a new level in the Agency; I have access to a lot more information than I did before. They’ll put me through a new security-clearance investigation, and I’ll have to turn in an accurate log every time I travel—no exceptions. You can see that it’s more important than ever that we keep our relationship quiet; the slightest thing in the papers might make my position at the Agency untenable. You can see that, can’t you?”

  “Yes, I can.” He hugged her. “You’re just going to have to remain the best-kept secret in town.”

  They lay in each other’s arms until they fell asleep. Neither of them made any move to make love.

  15

  Will sat in his small office, filling the pages of a legal pad. It was just after eight, and he had been at it for an hour. He heard footsteps in the common room, and Jack Buchanan put his head into the office.

  “Come on in, Jack,” Will said. “I’m glad you’re in early; I need to talk with you.” Jack arranged his long frame in the only other chair in Will’s office. Will looked at him. He had brought Jack Buchanan onto the staff, stolen him from the office of a Massachusetts congressman, where he had been languishing as an assistant. Will had met him while doing committee work and had been impressed with his easy manner and bright mind. Will had been best man at Jack’s wedding four years before and was godfather to the elder of his two daughters. Jack had been resented by some of the Georgians at first, a Yankee on a mostly Southern staff, but he had won them over quickly. It was Jack whom Will had planned to recommend for his own job when he eventually left the Senator’s staff.

  “Jack,” Will said, “I wanted to talk to you before I talked with anybody else.” He paused. He had made this decision, but he was still uncomfortable with it. Things were happening too fast. He explained to Buchanan what had occurred at the Senator’s house. “I’m going to run for his seat, Jack. I had planned to run against Barnett next time, but now it can’t wait. I’m satisfied it’s what the Senator wants, too.”

  Jack was grinning. “That’s terrific news, Will. I’m glad for you. I’ll miss you around here, though.”

  “Thanks, Jack, but—”

  “I’ll hold the office together, though. You can count on it.”

  “Jack, I don’t want you to hold the office together. I want Ed to do that.” Ed Tanner was the Senator’s press secretary.

  Jack’s face fell. “I see. Well, whatever you want…”

  Will laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not making myself clear. I want you to sign on with me, help me run my campaign.”

  Jack smiled broadly. “I’d really like that, Will.” He frowned. “But I’m not sure I can handle it.”

  “I’ve got some money. I can pay you what you’re making here, right through the campaign. If we make it, then I want you to run my office.”

  Jack stood up and grabbed Will’s hand. He seemed to be having a hard time speaking.

  “It’s going to mean a lot of time away from Millie and the kids, you know.”

  “She’ll go along; you know she will. She’s nuts about you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Listen, I’m going to ask Kitty Conroy to join us, too. The two of you are all I can afford at the moment.”

  “I’ll call Millie now, and see what she has to say,” Jack said.

  “Thanks, and as soon as Kitty comes in, ask her to see me, will you?”

  “Sure.” Jack turned to go.

  “One more thing, Jack. What do you think of Hank Taylor?”

  “I don’t have much direct knowledge of him,” Jack replied. He grinned. “We’ve never had much need of a political consultant around here.”

  “I knew him slightly when he was a deputy press secretary to Jimmy Carter.”

  “He’s done mostly New York and California campaigns, hasn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but television is a New York and California business. Anyway, he’s a Southerner. He won’t have forgotten what it’s like.”

  “If you say so.” Jack turned to go. “I’ll send Kitty to you when she comes in.”

  *

  Kitty Conroy jumped at the chance. “I’ll do a good job for you, Will,” she enthused. Kitty was in her late twenties, red-haired, smart, and pretty. She was from Savannah’s large Irish community, where her father was a city councilman.

  “You always have. That’s why I’m asking you. I know you’ve chafed a bit at working as a deputy, when you were perfectly well qualified to be press secretary yourself. Well, now you’re my press secretary, as of next Monday. Type out a resignation for the files, and ask Jack to do the same, will you? Spend the rest of the week cleaning up around here and doing what you can to see that it runs smoothly when you’re gone.”

  “Sure, Will.”

  “And plan to come down to Delano this weekend. Bring what you’ll need for a long stay.”

  *

  Will arrived at the Watergate and took the elevator to Hank Taylor’s floor. He was asked to wait by the pretty receptionist. Will sat down and took in the cool decor, the expensive furniture, the art. From the other side of the wall behind him, he heard a stirring march strike up. “Heald, Heald, he’s our man, if he can’t do it, nobody can!” a male chorus sang. Will winced; it was awful. That would be Michael Heald, who was running for Congress in New York City’s Silk Stocking District, Will remembered. He had begun to think that maybe he should look elsewhere for a campaign consultant when a door opened and another pretty girl asked Will to follow her. They went down a long corridor toward the corner office, and Will caught glimpses of people designing ads and editing film. The Heald music was farther away now, and Will tried to put it out of his mind.

  Hank Taylor came from behind a large glass table to greet him. Short, wiry, athletic-looking, black-rimmed glasses, silk shirt, red suspenders. “Will, how are you, boy?” He had not lost his accent.

  “Good, Hank.”

  “How’s the Senator?”

  “Doing better. He’s having therapy every day now, and improving.”

  Taylor waved him to a chair. “Not fast enough for November, though, huh, boy?”

  Will shook his head. “I’m afraid he’s out of it, Hank. That’s between you and me for the moment, though.”

  “And you’re going to go for his seat?” Taylor asked, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

  “That’s the way the Senator wants it,” Will said uncomfortably. “I hadn’t planned to run until Barnett comes up.”

  “Sure, sure.” Taylor grinned.

  Will flushed. “Let’s be clear about this, Hank. I wouldn’t be running if the Senator hadn’t asked me to.”

  “Sorry, Will,” Taylor said, holding up a placating hand. “You’re going to need a lot of help, then.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Will said. “You’re the only guy I know in this business, you’re a Southerner, and your reputation is good.”

  Taylor stood up and started to pace. “Okay, boy, let me tell you what you’ll get for your money around here. We’ll do your television, radio, and design all printed materials. We think it’s important to have an overall look that runs right through everything.”

  “Sounds good,” Will replied.

  “I give my personal attention to every single thing that comes out of this office, boy. This firm’s biggest asset is my feel for things, and as a client, you’ll get the full benefit of that.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “My guys will get your positions right on all the issues.”

  “Well, Hank, I’ve got a lot of ideas of my own,” Will said. “I’ve been writing Senator Carr’s position papers for years.”

  “Sure, sure, boy, but we want to home in on one or two out-front issues, you know? For instance, education. We’ve been getting a lot of playback on the idea of a bill offering parents government vouchers that they can spend at any private school. Hot response, sexy stuff.”

  “I’m a Democrat, Hank. I believe in public education.”


  “Sure, sure, boy, I’m just throwing around ideas off the top of my head. We’ll be in sync with your convictions, don’t worry.” Taylor walked back behind his desk and sat down. “Now, let’s get down to brass tacks,” he said. “You got any money?”

  “I’ve got enough to get us set up. Of course, fundraising is going to be very important to us.”

  “Yeah, I know. We don’t handle that end, though. We’re primarily a media outfit.”

  “I understand that. Now, what’s this going to cost me?”

  “Our fee is seventy-five grand, thirty-seven five now and the rest the day after you win the primary. That covers all our creative fees. We’ll bill you for production costs and add our standard 17.85 percent commission. Our media service will place all the advertising, and we split the 15 percent commission from the stations with them. Got it?”

  “Seems clear,” Will said, swallowing.

  “Good. When can you let me have your check?”

  “Well, we haven’t even got a bank account yet. Will next week be all right?”

  “Sure, sure. Can I expect your check on Monday, then?”

  “All right, I’ll have it in the mail by Friday.”

  “Use Federal Express,” Taylor said, rising from his chair. “More reliable.” He took Will’s arm and steered him toward the door. “I want to send one of my guys down to see you next week, soak up some atmosphere, get your slant on the campaign, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll send Tommy Black down there. He’s one of my best. You’ll like him.” Taylor walked Will to the door and down the hall to the reception room. There he stopped and took Will’s hand. “Will, boy, I don’t want you to worry about a thing. You’ve got the best outfit in the business on your side. You’re going to be the next senator from Georgia.”