Стюарт Вудс - Indecent Exposure

“The islands?”

“Maybe, but I’m not telling you which islands.”

“And there are too many to guess.”

“There you go, pal. I hope it doesn’t keep you up nights.” Stone said goodbye and hung up.

Stone and Dino met at their club in the East Sixties, one so anonymous that it didn’t have a name; the members called it, simply, “The Club.” Dino called it “The Joint.”

They met in the bar and had barely ordered a drink when Senator Eliot Saltonstall turned up, alone, and joined them.

“You throw a very nice bash, Eliot,” Dino told him. “I’ve never had so much fun in a place that elegant.”

“I may have to mortgage my house to pay the bill,” the senator replied ruefully.

“I’m very impressed with your new son-in-law, Eliot,” Stone said, “and so is my group at Woodman & Weld.”

“It’s nice to have a son-in-law I don’t have to support,” Saltonstall replied. “I had that problem with Celeste’s older sister’s first husband. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved as when she divorced him.”

“You think Peter can nail down the Senate seat in two years?” Stone asked.

“I think so, though I’ve heard a troubling rumor that Benton Blake is thinking seriously about running. He’s already got a fully constructed political team, so Peter is going to have to run fast just to keep up.”

“I’m good for a donation when he’s ready,” Stone said.

“Funny you should mention that,” the senator said with a little smile. “You remember how Kate raised the money to get her campaign off the ground?”

“I remember.” Stone had been one of a group of men who had donated a million dollars each to a political action committee formed for her benefit.

“Can I put you down for a million?”

“Of course,” Stone said, hoping he didn’t sound too regretful about it.

“Eliot,” Dino said, “you can put me down for a round of applause when he gets elected. Stone and I float in different ponds.”

“I couldn’t ask a public servant for that kind of help, Dino, but I’ll think of something else you can do.”

“Uh-oh,” Dino said, and they all laughed.

“I hear you two, along with Peter and Celeste, have a cruise planned shortly after Christmas.”

“Don’t breathe a word of that to anybody, Eliot,” Stone said. “Our other guests don’t want it to get out.”

“I wonder why,” the senator said. “Everybody’s entitled to some time off. What’s going on there?”

“I haven’t asked, and I’m not going to,” Stone replied.

“So be it. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

They finished their drinks and went in to dinner together.

Over the main course, Saltonstall looked around, then leaned in. “Dino,” he said, “I wonder if there might be something in Benton Blake’s background that he might not want mentioned to the voting public?”

“I’m not aware of anything, Eliot. I should think that having run twice for governor, anything like that would have emerged a long time ago.”

“I’d be grateful for a heads-up if you should ever hear of anything,” the senator said.

Dino shrugged noncommittally, but said nothing.

Saltonstall excused himself before dessert. “My wife’s playing bridge, and she’ll be home soon.”

When he had gone, Dino lowered his voice and said, “Can you believe that kind of question from a guy like Saltonstall?”

“He’s a politician, Dino, and that’s what his new son-in-law is going to be. He’s just taking the long view.”

“You mean he thinks the kid has a shot at something beyond the Senate?”

“Don’t you think so?” Stone asked.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Dino replied.

Downtown, the governor of New York had swept the Chinese food off the table and was fucking the brains out of Gloria Parsons, who was doing everything she could think of to help. Only when they had come noisily did they repair to her bedroom, just for the rest.

“Is this getting to be a weekly date?” Gloria asked, her head on his hairy chest.

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Blake replied.

“I can live with that,” she said.

“How’s your friend the ex-con doing?” he asked, changing the subject deftly.

“Very well, thanks to you. He’s got a decent job at W , and he seems very happy.”

“Glad to hear it,” Blake replied. “Doing his part to keep the recidivism rate down, then?”

“You could say that.”

“I hate it when somebody I’ve helped goes back — makes me look like I have poor judgment.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about him,” Gloria said, toying with his genitalia. “Feeling like a little recidivism?”

“More and more,” he said, pulling her on top of him. “Your turn to do all the work.”

Downtown, the governor of New York had swept the Chinese food off the table and was fucking the brains out of Gloria Parsons, who was doing everything she could think of to help. Only when they had come noisily did they repair to her bedroom, just for the rest.

“Is this getting to be a weekly date?” Gloria asked, her head on his hairy chest.

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Blake replied.

“I can live with that,” she said.

“How’s your friend the ex-con doing?” he asked, changing the subject deftly.

“Very well, thanks to you. He’s got a decent job at W , and he seems very happy.”

“Glad to hear it,” Blake replied. “Doing his part to keep the recidivism rate down, then?”

“You could say that.”

“I hate it when somebody I’ve helped goes back — makes me look like I have poor judgment.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about him,” Gloria said, toying with his genitalia. “Feeling like a little recidivism?”

“More and more,” he said, pulling her on top of him. “Your turn to do all the work.”

Stone was at his desk when Joan buzzed him. “Bob Cantor is here,” she said.

“Send him in.”

Bob walked into the office, they shook hands, then he sat down.

The other Bob, the Labrador retriever, wandered into the office, sniffed at Cantor, approved, and lay down with his head on the man’s foot.

“Bob, have you met Bob?”

“He’s named for me?”

“No, it’s just a coincidence. His mother whelped a large litter, and she was running out of names.”

“I see. Would you like a report?”

“Shoot.”

“I followed Gloria Parsons from her office to Alphonse Teppi’s loft, where the two had a conversation about you.” He placed a recording device on Stone’s desk and pressed a button.

Stone listened carefully. “Ah, that’s where the piece about my murdering my wife came from.”

“Did she try that?”

“She did, and she got fired for her trouble.”

“I heard something about that during my surveillance,” Bob said. “She’s back at work, though.”

“At Just Folks ?”

“Under a new name, Laurentia Scott-Peebles, known as Scotty. She’s also writing a dinner party column under the name of Penelope Fairleigh. She’s making slightly more as a freelancer than she made on staff.”

“I don’t seem to be able to get rid of her.”

“You want me to do something about it?”

“No, just let it ride. She’s a good writer, I’ll give her that, even under the two pseudonyms. I’ll just keep the knowledge as ammunition for a later date.”

“She also managed to get Danny Blaine out of Fishkill.”

“How the hell did she do that?”

“By fucking the governor. Blake commuted the kid’s sentence.”