Стюарт Вудс - Wild Card

“Whom do you represent?”

“An entirely legal political action committee. That is all you need to know. If anyone should inquire about your employment, tell them that you are a self-employed, freelance campaign operative. As I mentioned, an LLC corporation is being established and you will receive stationery and business cards at your new address, which you should e-mail to me as soon as you have signed a lease. When that is accomplished, credit cards will be issued in your name and that of your assistant, to be used strictly for campaign expenses and no other.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

“You may call me William.”

“Thank you, William. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Oh, Ari, one more thing: At the conclusion of the campaign, if your work has been exemplary, your student loans will be paid in full.”

He hung up, which was a good thing, since Ari was speechless.

There was a knock at his door, but when he answered it, no one was there. A large box was on the floor. Ari sat back down and gathered his thoughts for a moment. In that time he had decided whom to hire, where to look for an apartment, and what car he would buy.

He opened the just-delivered box and spread its contents on his bed, in order of importance, then he used his new cell phone to call Annie Lee, a colleague during his summer term.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Annie, it’s Ari Kramer.”

“You’re not calling on Skype. Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing. Have you found employment yet after the term?” Annie had completed her master’s degree in political science, and had been accepted for doctorate study.

“No,” she replied.

“I believe I can solve the problem for you,” Ari said. “Please come to my room directly.”

“Of course.”

Ari hung up without further ado.

Stone and Jamie dined in his study and drank a very good wine.

“So, it will be some time before I see you again?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Jamie replied. “They’ve got me scheduled for twenty-nine cities — that’s so far.”

“What about network interviews?”

“I’ll do them from local stations. What are you going to do for sex while I’m gone?”

“Why are you concerned about that?”

“I know what your appetites are, and I can’t expect you to be chaste for all that time — maybe not even as long as a day or two.”

Stone had no comment about that. “I should ask you the same question,” he replied.

“Masturbation works for me.”

“It works for everybody,” he said. “But not all by itself, or for very long.”

She laughed. “I forgot that you know my appetites as well as I yours.”

“You’ll need to be more careful than I,” Stone said.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re about to become a public figure, and you’ll have to conduct yourself as such. Be careful to whom you bestow your gifts.”

“That’s good advice,” she said. “How about you?”

“I am the essence of a private person,” he replied. “Nobody cares about what I do.”

“But you’re a close friend of a candidate for the presidency. I can’t believe that’s a sexless relationship.”

“We have agreed to take pains to be in separate cities at all times,” Stone replied. “I’ve never figured out how to include a sex life in that.”

“That’s a good plan, if it works.”

“It has worked for some time.”

“Did you see Joe Box’s announcement speech from New Hampshire?”

“I avoided it,” Stone said. “He annoys me.”

“He wasn’t bad. I was impressed with the way he used the teleprompter. Somebody is tutoring him, I think.”

“I hope not well enough to make him a serious candidate.”

“He exuded seriousness. He’s a good actor.”

“In spurts, I suppose, but not good enough to keep my skin from crawling.” He poured them an after-dinner cognac. “What are they doing about security for you?”

“Two women with guns,” she replied.

Stone laughed. “Perhaps they know you well enough not to give you male companionship.”

“They said it was so they could accompany me to the ladies’ rooms along the way. Apparently, that’s not a good place to be alone.”

“I don’t think the Thomases are after you right now.”

“How can I be sure of that?”

“They can’t harm you in the middle of a book tour — not when the book is about them.”

“You have a point. How about you?”

“When I go out, I have Fred, who is very competent and well-armed.”

“How did a Brit on American soil get a New York City carry license?”

“He has a friend high up in the police department.”

“Ah, yes, Dino. I’ll miss Dino and Viv.”

“I’ll tell them you said so.”

“Please do.” She refilled her own glass and stood up. “Now,” she said, “come with me. This one has to be great because it has to last a long time.” She held out her hand.

Stone took it and followed her upstairs.

There was a knock at Ari’s door, and he opened it to find Annie Lee standing there: Eurasian, petite, and very fetching to him. He showed her in and pointed to a chair.

She didn’t take it immediately. “What’s all that on the bed?” she asked.

“You can read it after our conversation,” Ari replied. “Your speed-reading skills will be very useful for the next few months.”

“What will we be doing?”

“We will be making Senator Joseph Box into a credible candidate for president,” he said.

“I love a challenge,” she replied wryly.

“Those things are his bio, his speeches, and pretty much everything ever written about him. The articles will point out areas of his persona that we’ll have to pay particular attention to.”

She picked up a stack of papers and sat down at his desk. “Let me read a few,” she said. She started with the bio, then continued through a two-inch stack of paper. “I’ve got the gist,” she said shortly. “Does this job pay money?”

“Ten thousand dollars a month plus room, board, and travel expenses.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s more than sixty dollars an hour.”

“Then you must try to be worth it. Come on, we have to go find an apartment.” He took his new checkbook and tucked it into a coat pocket. “And buy some clothes and a car.”

“Good God! Who’s paying for this?”

“A perfectly legal political action committee.”

“Which is committed to making Box president?”

“Nearly president, I think.”

“Why ‘nearly’?”

“Who in their right mind would actually want Box to be president? I think they have other motives.”

“Such as?”

“Scaring the shit out of the Republican Party. Let’s go.” Ari led her from the room and double-locked the door behind him.

“What kind of apartment are we looking for?” she asked.

“One with two bedrooms and baths, with workspace, too. I saw a sign off the Square the other day that I’d like to know more about.” They walked over to the Square, then to a side street. “There,” Ari said, nodding toward a tall, new condo building.

“Nothing cozy, huh?”

“Nope.” They went into the building to where a woman sat at a desk. “We’d like to see that,” he said, pointing to a sign that read: MODEL APARTMENT ON VIEW.

The woman looked him up and down. “Certainly, sir,” she said. She took some keys from a desk drawer and led him to the elevator. They rose to the top floor, where she opened a door and ushered them through.

There was a large living room with a dining area, an excellent kitchen, and three bedrooms. It was furnished as if it was a department store. Even kitchen utensils and tableware were in place.