Стюарт Вудс - Choppy Water

Stone set the breakfast trays outside the door, then dove into her waiting arms.

After taking care of that, Stone sought out Bill Wright. “We’re going to need to fly to Washington tomorrow night,” he said.

“What’s the occasion?”

“She’s booked on four television shows on Sunday, in the Washington studios of all four networks.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Bill asked.

“Sure.”

“Why don’t we do a TV setup at her house, and she can do all four from there, remotely. She’ll still be on live TV, and we won’t have to secure four studios.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Stone said. “I’ll call Sam.”

“You can blame us, if you like. Tell him we’re insisting for reasons of her personal security.”

“Right.” Stone got on the phone with Sam Meriwether and gave him the suggestion.

“I don’t see why not,” Sam replied. “It will give the appearance of a homier feeling. Is it too early for a Christmas tree?”

“I think so,” Stone replied.

“I’ll call you back.”

Stone went back to the bedroom and told Holly what was up.

“Wonderful!” she enthused. “I won’t have to sit around those studios waiting and being nice to people.”

“Right. Sam is setting it up, and we’ll offer the feed to the four stations. They won’t have to do a thing but press a button. They’ll love it.”

Inside of an hour, everyone was in agreement.

“I guess you’ll want to land at Dulles,” Bill said.

“No, at Manassas, Virginia. There’s enough runway, and a lot fewer people around.”

“Okay, that suits us fine. Where will she want to go after that?”

“Hang on,” Stone said. He went back to the bedroom. “Where do you want to go after Sunday?” he asked.

She seemed nonplussed.

“Your choices are: one, a prisoner in your own home; two, a prisoner in my home; three, live your life and the hell with them.”

“I won’t feel safe with option three,” she said. “Where do you want me?”

“In New York, with me,” he said firmly.

“Okay, we’ll stay in New York Sunday night.”

“Great!” He went to inform Bill and the Bacchettis.

The Gulfstream set down just after dark and a new detail of agents took over, moving passengers and luggage into SUVs and leaving the airfield in five minutes.

“Let me borrow your phone,” Holly said to Stone. He handed it over, and she called the chef at her favorite local restaurant. “Hello, Danny? It’s Holly Barker.” There was a moment of ado before Holly could continue. “I’m on my way in from out of town with some friends who are staying at my house. Could you make them some dinner, and deliver it? There are six, and I’ll leave it to you to choose the menu. Don’t bother with wines. Thank you, Danny. Just put it on my tab and add a big tip.” She hung up. “We will be fed in an hour,” she said. “Bill, you and Claire join us. Your detail can fend for themselves.”

“That’ll work,” Bill said.

“I suppose they’ll have to sweep the house?”

“Already done,” he replied. “It’s clean.”

They drove to Georgetown. A few yards from the house, the garage door opened and they entered the basement. A group of cots were set up in a corner, ready for use.

They dismounted and went to their rooms to freshen up. Holly stayed upstairs until the food had been delivered, then she joined everyone else. While they were in the dining room a crew arrived and began to set up camera and audio equipment. Holly went into the living room and approved the corner of the room that would be on camera, then checked out the camera angles. She rejoined the others in the dining room. “We could shoot it tonight, if they didn’t all want to be live.”

After dinner, the White House was on the line for Holly, and shortly, so was Kate Lee. “I understand you’re safely at home and will be broadcasting from there tomorrow morning,” she said to Holly.

“That is correct.”

“I wonder if that might be a good time to say something about the events on Islesboro?”

“A good time for you, or for me?”

“I think it would be a good opportunity to look cool under fire. After the last interview you could be hooked up to all four stations and say a few words. I’ll leave it to you what to say.”

“All right, Kate, I can do that.”

“Did you enjoy Key West?”

“I wasn’t there long enough,” Holly said, “but I enjoyed Stone. I’m going back to New York with him tomorrow and stay there for a while, gradually emerging from my shell.”

“Who was it who said, ‘Never miss an opportunity to have a good meal or sex’?”

“I don’t know. It sounds like Oscar Wilde, though.”

“Will and I are going to be in New York next Wednesday. Perhaps we could have dinner with you, Stone, and the Bacchettis.”

“I’m sure Stone will enjoy hosting that, and we won’t have to bother with a restaurant.”

“Fine. We’ll be there for drinks at six-thirty. Sleep well.” She hung up.

Holly returned to the table. “Stone, Kate Lee has asked if you will give them dinner on Wednesday evening; the Bacchettis are invited, too.”

“Of course I will. I’ll let Helene know.”

“Now, Bill. You and Claire can do your thing at Stone’s house.”

“Of course,” he replied.

After making love with Stone, Holly went to her study, got pen and paper and wrote a couple of drafts of what she wanted to say the following day. Then she took the list of names of the murdered agents and wrote a letter to each of their next of kin, put them in envelopes, then stamped and sealed them for mailing by the Secret Service the following day.

Finally, she crept into bed beside the sleeping Stone and went to sleep.

Holly awoke at five AM and went down to the kitchen, where she had coffee, then turned herself over to the hairdresser and makeup artist. The TV director came into the room. “Good morning, ma’am,” he said. “We’d like to propose a slight change in our plans this morning.”

“As long as it doesn’t require a costume change and new makeup,” Holly said.

“Senator Meriwether thinks you might be interviewed on all four programs at once. Each would be cued when it’s their turn. Then, when that’s done, you can say that you have an announcement to make, and we’ll cut their mics, so you won’t have to deal with their reactions.”

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Holly said.

“It’s a one-hour show, so each of them will have about fifteen minutes, and I’ll decide when to cue them. We’ve set up a monitor with a quartered screen, so you can look them all in the eye. Or at least, that’s how it will seem to the viewers.”

“Excellent.”

At ten minutes before the start time, Holly was led into the living room and seated in a comfortable chair with an extra pillow for a better altitude for the camera. She was fitted with an earpiece in each ear, so that the director could speak to her without the world hearing it. “I’m in your left ear, and the questioners are in your right. Got it?”

“Got it. Oh, if it’s all right, I’d like for Fox News to ask the first question. My history with them has always been a little contentious, so we might as well get that out of the way.”

“I can do that,” the director said. “Here we go, in five, four, three, two, one...” Music and an announcer’s voice came on to introduce the show. The director would moderate from off-camera.

“Good morning,” he said. “And welcome to the home of our president-elect, Holly Barker. I will call on each participant for questions, which should not be longer than fifteen seconds, and the president-elect will have approximately ninety seconds to answer. Our first question comes from Fox News.”