Cut and Thrust Page 7

  “What?”

  Kate smiled. “He doesn’t have the votes to win on the first ballot.”

  Stone and Ann walked back to his house together. “Kate takes my breath away,” he said.

  “Mine, too,” Ann replied.

  “Do you think she’s right about Stanton not having the votes to win on the first ballot?”

  “Kate doesn’t make pronouncements that aren’t hedged in some way—‘in my opinion,’ ‘it’s my guess that . . .’ et cetera.”

  “But she just did.”

  “She did, didn’t she?”

  “She must feel very certain, then.”

  “She must, mustn’t she?”

  “But you aren’t?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I’ve just rarely heard her make flat-footed statements like that.”

  “Does she know something you don’t know?”

  “Sam Meriwether is in charge of counting delegates,” Ann said. “He hasn’t shared anything like that with me.”

  “I’ll tell you something,” Stone said, “I’ve never had more fun in my life than watching all this happen.”

  “Maybe you should run for office, Stone.”

  “Ha! And give up life as I know it?”

  Ann laughed. “Life as you know it is pretty good, isn’t it?”

  “It’s spectacular! Being on the inside of the action and having you in my bed every night is almost more than I can stand.”

  Ann laughed again. “It’s almost more than I can stand, too.”

  “What are you going to do if Kate wins?”

  “Just between you and me?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m going to be the next White House chief of staff.”

  “Kate has offered you that?”

  “She has, and I’ve accepted.”

  “What is that going to do to your life?”

  “It will destroy my life as I know it,” Ann said. “I’ll be constantly on call—twenty-four/seven—I won’t get much sleep. And I won’t have a social life that doesn’t involve a White House dinner.”

  “That doesn’t sound very good for you and me,” Stone said.

  “No, it doesn’t—you’re going to have to give me up if Kate is president.”

  “Entirely?”

  “Oh, we can have an occasional dinner and roll in the hay, in D.C. or New York. But for every four dates we make, I’ll have to break three. Something will come up.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that much.”

  “I don’t like it much, either,” Ann said, “but it’s how it will be. I’ll have a chance to make a difference for this country, and I’ll give up everything else to do that.”

  “I can’t blame you, Ann.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What will you do if Kate loses?” he asked.

  “I’ll move to New York, apply for a job with Woodman and Weld, and sleep with you every night. If you’ll have me.”

  “No doubt about that.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “I’m greedy.”

  “It’s one of the things I like best about you,” she said. “Let’s go be greedy right now.”

  And they did.

  —

  HALF A MILE down Stone Canyon, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Grosvenor were undressing after dinner.

  “How did you think our lunch went?” Charles asked his wife.

  “I thought it went very well.”

  “Do you think Barrington recognized you?”

  “I know he didn’t,” she said. “I’ve always been good at makeovers.”

  “You certainly have—and I love the gray hair.”

  “I thought of affecting a British accent, but that might have been a little much. After all, there are people in L.A. who know who Barbara Eagle Grosvenor is.”

  “What if Barrington mentions our lunch to Ed Eagle? He knows my name.”

  “He won’t have any reason to mention it, since he hasn’t figured it out.”

  “And you’re going to use Barrington to get at Eagle?”

  “Ideally, yes. Don’t worry, I won’t get caught. I’ll get away with it, I always have.”

  “You have that gift,” Charles said. “And what will you do if you can’t get at Eagle?”

  Barbara smiled a little smile. “Then I’ll destroy someone close to him.”

  “Barrington?”

  “Perhaps. It would cut Ed to the bone, and that’s been my pleasure for a long time.”

  “Whatever you want, my sweet.”

  “I want you to come over here and fuck me,” she said, stretching out on the bed.

  “It’s what I do best, isn’t it?” he asked, joining her.

  “It certainly is, my darling.”

  Governor Richard Collins was joined for breakfast by Vice President Martin Stanton in the governor’s bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel. A table had been elegantly laid on the private patio. The governor was sitting in a chaise longue, reading a stack of morning papers. A political writer’s daily column had caught his eye, and he read it quickly.

  “Good morning, Dick,” the vice president said from the patio door. A Secret Service agent stood behind him. The agent looked quickly around the patio, then stepped back into the bungalow’s living room and closed the door between him and his charge.

  “Good morning, Marty,” Collins said, rising to greet his guest. “Shall we sit down?” He motioned his guest to a chair. “Orange juice?” the governor asked, picking up a pitcher.

  “Thank you, yes.”

  “Would you like some champagne or vodka in it?”

  “Thanks, I’ll wait until lunchtime.”

  Collins poured the orange juice, and a waiter came and delivered eggs Benedict. “So, Marty, how do you think the convention is going for you?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Stanton replied.

  “Do you think you have enough votes to win on the first ballot?”

  Stanton hesitated before replying. “I believe that may depend on you, Dick.”

  Collins took a bite of his eggs and shrugged. “I think our delegation is holding. At least, nobody has told me he’s doing otherwise.”

  “I hear rumors that there’s some crumbling in Pete Otero’s delegation.”

  “You mean, some of his delegates are switching to you?”

  “I mean, I hear they’re switching—I can’t be sure to whom.”

  “I hear there may be half a dozen,” Collins said.

  “Do you hear where they’re going?”

  “I can only guess.”

  “All right then, guess.”

  “I think more likely to Kate than to you.”

  “That won’t hurt me on the first ballot,” Stanton said.

  “No, that won’t, not until the second ballot.”

  “Then we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”

  The governor chewed thoughtfully. “How did your sit-down with Kate go last evening?”

  Stanton flinched visibly. “How could you know about that?”

  “I try to stay on top of things. What did you two have to say to each other?”

  “She offered me State if I’d drop out and nominate her.”

  “If you don’t get the nomination, Marty, which would you prefer, State or the Senate?” Collins already knew the answer. State was too much work, too much globe-hopping for Stanton, who had always been a little lazy.

  “I guess that’s my choice, isn’t it? If I don’t win the nomination.”

  “What did you say to Kate?”

  “After I turned it down, I offered her State.”

  “And?”

  “She wouldn’t commit—said she’d let me know by noon.”

  “Marty, it�
��s time for you and I to be entirely honest with each other. Realistic, too.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Kate isn’t going to take State.”

  “I’ve got until noon before we know.”

  “It’s not going to happen. Put it out of your mind.”

  “I don’t see how you can know that, Dick.”

  “You’ll know at noon, but by then you will have wasted four hours.”

  “Wasted how?”

  “You have no time to waste, Marty. Right now, you can accept my offer of an appointment to the Senate. That offer will expire when we rise from this table. Then, when Kate calls you at noon—or, more likely, doesn’t call at all—you will be out of options.”

  “But you said—”

  “No, I didn’t,” Collins said. “I didn’t say my offer was open-ended. And Kate didn’t offer you State.”

  Stanton’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t see how you can say that, Dick, you weren’t there.”

  “I didn’t need to be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I know you, Marty, and I know Kate. The fact is, your personal conduct has made it impossible for you to be nominated.”

  “I know it hasn’t helped,” Stanton admitted.

  “In the Senate, Marty, no one will care who you take to bed, you’ll be a bachelor again. You’re rich enough to buy a nice house in Georgetown—the women will be all over you. Think about it.”

  “I’ll have no seniority in the Senate.”

  “Your stature in the party will get you good committee assignments, and the press will always want to know what you have to say, especially the TV reporters. You’ll be a regular on the Sunday-morning shows.”

  “Do you know something I don’t, Dick? About who’s slipping in the delegation?”

  “Nobody has told me anything, I just know what I know. It’s time for you to decide what you want to do with the rest of your life. You can spend it doing good work in the Senate, or you can spend it serving on corporate boards and playing golf.”

  “Come on, Dick, I’ve done a lot for you. You wouldn’t be governor—”

  “And I’m very grateful to you, Marty, that’s why I’ve offered you the Senate seat. Most politicians would kill for that.”

  The governor finished his eggs. Stanton hadn’t touched his. Collins looked at his watch. “Well, I’ve got a nine-o’clock across town.” He pushed his chair back.

  “Time to decide, huh?” Stanton said.

  “Yes, it is, Marty.”

  Stanton pushed his chair back and stood up. “All right, Dick, I’ll take the Senate seat.”

  Collins stood up and shook his hand. “Wonderful, Marty, and I’ll be there when you run for reelection in four years.”

  “Thank you, Dick.”

  “Now,” said the governor, taking Stanton’s arm and propelling him toward the door, “let me tell you how this is going to go.”

  The two men walked slowly through the bungalow’s living room and outside to where their cars waited. The governor did all the talking; Stanton nodded. At one point, Stanton seemed to object, but Collins kept him moving, talking earnestly in a low voice.

  They reached their cars, and a Secret Service agent was holding the door open for Stanton.

  “Then we’re agreed, Marty.” It wasn’t a question.

  Stanton nodded, got into the car, and was driven away. Collins did the same, but he was smiling.

  Ann Keaton sat at her desk in her small office in the presidential cottage and began working delegates, one by one. Molly, Kate’s secretary, sat at an adjacent desk. Her phone rang, she listened and then tapped Ann on the shoulder.

  Ann covered the phone. “Yes, Molly?”

  “Hang up.”

  “I’ll call you back,” Ann said into her phone, then hung up.

  “Evan Chandler, from Senator Mark Willingham’s campaign, wants to speak to you,” Molly said. “This could be important.”

  Ann pressed the button. “Good morning, Evan, how are you?”

  “Very well, Ann. Senator Willingham would like to meet with Director Lee—this morning, if possible.”

  “She has meetings all morning and a lunch at twelve thirty,” Ann said. “I could make some time between the meetings and lunch—say, twelve?”

  “That’s fine. The senator would like to meet in his suite at the Bel-Air.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, given her schedule,” Ann said. “It will have to be at the presidential cottage at The Arrington.”

  “Hold on.”

  Ann found herself listening to piano music.

  “What’s going on?” Molly asked.

  “I’m on hold. Willingham wants a meet, but I won’t let the first lady go to him.”

  “Ann?” Chandler was back on the line.

  “Yes, Evan.”

  “The senator will be there at noon.”

  “I’ll leave word at the gate,” Ann said. “Security is very tight here.”

  “He’ll be on time.” Chandler hung up.

  Ann put down the phone and ran down the hall to the presidential office. She rapped on the door and opened it. Kate and Will Lee were sitting on the sofa, their laps full of papers.

  “Director, you have a meeting with Mark Willingham at noon, here.”

  “I do?” Kate asked, surprised.

  “Unless you want me to cancel.”

  Will looked at her and shook his head.

  “All right, Ann.”

  Ann smiled and went back to her desk.

  —

  KATE LOOKED AT WILL. “Now, what do you suppose?”

  “It won’t be State,” Will said.

  “He’s not going to offer me the number two spot,” Kate said.

  “Why not? Mark will do whatever he has to do, and he’s all out of time. Nominations are tonight, and he’ll want to have everything lined up. He obviously believes that Marty doesn’t have the votes to win on the first ballot.”

  “It’s incongruous,” Kate said. “Willingham was your worst enemy among the Democrats in the Senate.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Mark has decided you’re the only way he can win.”

  Kate shook her head. “Impossible.”

  “Well,” Will said, “all you have to do is listen.”

  —

  KATE HAD ARRANGED the furniture again in the library and was sitting when the knock came.

  “Senator Willingham,” Manolo said.

  Willingham strode into the room and shook Kate’s hand, then sat down. He didn’t wait for her to sit first.

  “What can I do for you, Senator?” Kate asked.

  “I have it on good authority that the California delegation is cracking,” he said.

  “Cracking how?” Kate asked.

  “On the first ballot, after California votes, someone will ask the chair to poll the delegation.”

  “How much of a crack are we talking about?”

  “A dozen, fifteen votes.”

  “And whom will they crack for?”

  “Me.”

  “So that will give you, what, ninety, ninety-five delegates to the vice president’s one twenty, one twenty-five?”

  “My people think that when California cracks, delegates from other states will start to jump ship. They think I’ve got a very good shot at a first-ballot win. And if it goes to a second ballot, we’re a sure thing.”

  “That’s awfully optimistic of you, Senator,” Kate said.

  “I know it is, that’s why I’m here. I want you to nominate me tonight. I think that could make the difference.”

  “Well, I suppose there’s a weird kind of logic to that idea,” Kate said. “Of course, when delegates start to jump, many might go to Otero. And as strange as it
may seem to you, Senator, many of them might even go to me.”

  “Kate, would the vice presidency appeal to you?”

  “Senator, is that an offer?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “Satisfying your curiosity is not very appealing to me, Senator.”

  “All right, if you’ll nominate me tonight, the vice presidency is yours.”

  “Senator, the vice presidency is not yet your gift to give.”

  “You know what I mean—you’ll have the number two spot on the ticket with me.”

  “Shall I be frank with you, Senator?”

  “By all means.”

  “I don’t think California can crack enough to give you the nomination. I don’t think that enough ship jumpers would go to you, either. In fact, if suddenly Marty dropped out of the race, I don’t think you’d get the nomination.”

  A flash of anger passed across the senator’s face and he stood up. “I’ll take that as a no,” he said.

  “That’s very perceptive of you,” Kate replied.

  “Good day.” He stalked across the room and out the door.

  Ann came into the room. “He looked very angry, Director. Did you tell him to go fuck himself?”

  “Pretty much,” Kate replied.

  Stone hosted Kate and Ann for lunch on his poolside patio. Ann had billed it as a strategy session.

  “Whew!” Kate said, blowing upward to clear her forehead of a strand of hair.

  “Is Ann working you too hard?” Stone asked.

  “When Will was running I met a lot of people, but that was nothing compared to now. I’m having to soak my hand in ice water to keep the swelling down.”

  “How do you feel about the way things are going?” Stone asked.

  “If all I needed was the goodwill of the delegates I’ve met, I’d feel very confident,” she said. “Unfortunately, I’m not the only one seeking their votes and most of them are already committed, barring a second ballot.”

  “If you had it to do over, would you start earlier and enter the primaries?”

  Kate thought about it. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’ve done the right thing almost by accident.”

  “How by accident?”

  “I had thought about doing it last year and going through the whole process and decided against it. Then, months later, over dinner, Will said something to me about it not being too late. I had been thinking about life after the White House. And if Will hadn’t said that at that moment, it wouldn’t have occurred to me that I might have a chance if I got in late.”