Стюарт Вудс - Indecent Exposure

All of the rumors Stone had been privy to had now been enshrined in the political, business, arts, and social annals of the city and state. The social order had been slightly but firmly reordered, and all seemed right with the world.

Joan buzzed Stone: “Dino on one.”

“Good morning, Commissioner.”

“Good morning, prognosticator,” Dino said. “That’s what one calls a rumormonger whose dirt has been compressed into stone.”

“I thank you for the promotion,” Stone said.

“All that remains is the political action. When do you reckon that may come to pass?”

“I should think sometime after the New Year, since people wouldn’t want these extremely important announcements to become entangled in the Times ’s holiday collection of Macy’s ads, heartwarming stories of how your contributions have given many disadvantaged families a hopeful holiday season, and stories of how members of Congress are spending their generous Christmas recesses, at home, serving their constituencies.”

“So I shouldn’t worry about that until, what, Super Bowl time?”

“Just a guess,” Stone said. “Maybe just after or in conjunction with the presidential inauguration, on January twentieth, after, of course, the incumbent has sorrowfully announced his intention not to seek reelection, in order to spend more time with his family.”

“This should make the conversation on our upcoming warm-weather cruise.”

“It’s good of you to call it that, since speaking the location over the telephone might broadcast it to all the wrong people. The White House has made no announcement of its inhabitants’ holiday plans, as yet. I expect the secretary will sneak it into a press room briefing at some point, surrounded by statements about more important or more exciting events.”

“What should Viv and I bring along in the way of clothing for this outing?”

“One or more bathing suits, of course, in the case of Viv, revealing ones, and the usual assortment of colorful cruise wear. Our guest of honor has requested, through her secretary of state, that gentlemen should also bring a business suit and a dinner suit, for some special occasion as yet unrevealed.”

“I take it ‘dinner suit,’ to us hoi polloi, means ‘tuxedo.’”

“You may assume that. You may also substitute appropriate naval or yachting formal wear, should you possess same.”

“I take that to mean that you possess such finery.”

“I and perhaps others. Ladies to dress appropriately, of course.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your wife will know.”

“How is our guest of honor planning to deal with her absence from her usual residence?”

“I can’t tell you that on the phone, only over dinner.”

“Patroon, at seven?”

“Done.”

At Patroon, after a first drink, Dino raised the subject not mentionable on the phone.

“This is how it’s going to go,” Stone said, “but it’s only a plan and can change.”

“Shoot,” Dino said.

Stone outlined the security precautions as he imagined they would be.

“Jesus,” Dino said when he had finished, “are they really that worried about our safety?”

“No, Dino, they are entirely concerned with the health and well-being of the people they are charged with protecting. I very much doubt whether they care if we live or die.”

“That’s not very comforting,” Dino replied.

“Perhaps it will comfort you to think that, if some attempt is made on the welfare of the people they are charged with protecting, they will have to protect us in order to protect them.”

“I’m a little less uncomfortable with that.”

“Then perhaps you should arrange for a platoon of New York Police Department personnel to charter another yacht and accompany us, with an eye toward saving your ass, in the event that an attack is made on our guests.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Dino said. “I’ll give it some thought.”

Peter Rule parked his car in the Capitol garage, went to the Russell building, entered Senator Eliot Saltonstall’s office, and took a seat.

“I spoke earlier this morning with a reliable source,” Saltonstall said, “and there’s news of Benton Blake.”

“Oh?”

“He’s off to Bermuda for a week or two with his new girlfriend, Gloria Parsons.”

“Isn’t she the one Stone had thrown out of our wedding reception?”

“One and the same.”

“Interesting that she’s with Blake. How long?”

“My impression is very recently. My source also tells me that Blake was upset by your announcement, and he won’t be declaring for the Senate.”

“He’s just depressed, he’ll get over it.”

“He was actually quoted as saying he would just wait around for me to have a stroke, then run for my seat.”

“How rude of him.”

“I thought so, too.”

“How did your physical go, Senator?”

“I’m tip-top.”

Peter watched the senator blink rapidly and immediately knew he was lying. He never played poker with the senator because the tell made him too easy to read. “My guess is Blake’s impatience will outrun his depression. We should expect him to run later. In the meantime, I have to run as though I’m already behind.”

“You’ll want to get commitments from as many state and party officials as you can. We don’t know what other candidates will arise in the meantime. Faith Mackey is working on a plan to keep you in the news. If we can make you look like a foregone conclusion, other potential candidates may wither on the vine.”

“Wither on the vine,” Peter repeated. “I like the sound of that, Senator.”

“Peter, you’re my son-in-law now, you can call me Dad.”

“I already have two dads to refer to, it could get confusing.”

“Call me Eliot, then? I’d like that.”

“Henceforth you are Eliot,” Peter said. “Anything else this morning?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Then I’d better start working the phones,” Peter said.

“Who will you be calling?”

“I’ve got a long list.”

“Get to it, then,” Saltonstall said, making shooing motions.

“Good morning, Eliot.” Peter left and went back to his office. It was larger than that of most chiefs of staff in the Senate because his senator had more seniority than most. He had room for a sofa and a couple of easy chairs, and there were paintings of the Hudson Valley School on the walls and books of an appropriate nature: the three Roosevelts — Teddy, Franklin, and Eleanor — and an array of Kennedys, plus biographies. Republicans were not represented. His private line rang, and he picked it up. No one unimportant to him had that number.

“Hello.”

“Mr. Rule, will you speak to the President?”

“I suppose so,” Peter drawled.

There was a click. “It’s your ma,” she said.

“Hello, Ma.”

“Don’t call me that — only I can call me Ma.”

“Hello, Mudder.”

“You are exasperating, but you handled your announcement beautifully.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

“Your voice is always deeper when you’re speaking to groups. It reminds me of my father.”

“That’s high praise.”

“Word has reached me that Benton Blake will not be running against you.”

“That word has reached me, too, but it’s not in my interests to believe it, not until the polls have closed, anyway.”

“You’re my wisest son,” she said.

“That’s not especially high praise since Billy is only four. Are you bringing him on the cruise?”

“He doesn’t want to go, if you can believe that. He’s afraid he’ll be seasick.”

“Has he ever been seasick?”