Стюарт Вудс - Wild Card

“What fix is that?” Hank asked. “We’re richer than ever and on the brink of retirement to wherever we want to go.”

“I spoke with our young D.A.’s daddy,” Henry said. “His boy is thinking about indicting us.”

“For what?” Hank asked.

“Manslaughter of the two women at Bloomingdale’s.”

“They can’t connect us to that,” Damien said.

“He’s thinking about trying. There’s been a lot of pressure on him since the Times piece.”

“So, there’s pressure,” Hank said, “but there’s no case.”

“Even if it fails, it will bring humiliation upon us.”

“We’ll soon be gone,” Hank pointed out. “Humiliation doesn’t travel.”

“He has a point,” Damien said.

“Humiliation can be cured only by satisfaction,” Henry said.

“Only by revenge, you mean?” Hank asked.

“Exactly. Revenge is in our blood. It has to be satisfied or we don’t rest easy, not even in some tropical paradise.”

“So you want Barrington taken out?” Damien asked.

“I do, and this time, I want it done right. Is that perfectly clear?”

“How about timing?”

“Before an indictment comes down.”

“Do you have any indication of when that might be?” Hank asked.

“A couple of weeks,” Henry replied.

“I’ll speak to my man,” Damien said.

Hank held up a hand. “There’s another consideration,” he said.

“What might that be?” Henry asked.

“I’ve been approached to speak at the Republican Convention.”

“But you aren’t a Republican anymore,” his grandfather said.

“That would be repaired beforehand,” Hank said. “The committee’s best estimate, from private polling, is that with Joe Box out of the race, no candidate is going to win enough states in the primaries to come to the convention with a majority in the Electoral College. The thinking is: I give a barn burner of a speech on national television, I get nominated the same night, and I sweep the convention.”

“That’s not so far-fetched,” Damien said.

“I guess not,” Henry concurred.

“So,” Hank said, “I’m going to need two things: a speech from those two consultants, Rance...”

“And Barrington dead,” Henry said. “Plus, a campaign to smear Holly Barker over her sexual relationship with him. And he won’t be around to deny anything.” He was smiling.

“Maybe you’d better have another chat with the D.A.’s daddy,” Hank said.

Back in their Cambridge apartment, Ari received another Skype call from William Smith.

“Yes, sir?” Ari asked, while Annie listened from the sidelines.

“Ari, the shooting of Senator Box has removed him from the race entirely, and that means we have a whole new playing field.”

“I can see how that would be, William.”

“That said, we’re now going to back a new candidate, one who isn’t in the race.”

“He would have a very late start in the primaries, wouldn’t he?”

“He won’t be entering any primaries, and no one who is will come to the convention with a majority in the Electoral College.”

“I’ve run the numbers,” Ari said, “and I think that’s likely.”

“Our man will bet everything on one overwhelming speech at the convention.”

Ari was nodding. “Then he’ll be nominated from the floor and win the nomination.”

“Exactly.”

Annie held up six fingers and mouthed, Six speeches.

“May I make a suggestion, William?” Ari asked.

“Of course, that’s what I expect from you.”

“Why don’t you have him make half a dozen speeches around the country in key states, with network television coverage, not backing any candidate but speaking to what the party can accomplish in office with the right man at the helm. In fact, I think that phrase, ‘the right man,’ might become almost a campaign slogan. After a while, a lot of people will be saying he is the right man.”

“That’s brilliant!” Smith said. “Those speeches could clear the way for him at the convention.”

“Who is our man?” Ari asked.

“Former congressman Hank Thomas.”

“But he’s left the party, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t registered as a Democrat or an Independent. The Republican Party leaders have let him know that they’d be thrilled to have him back.”

“At some point in the series of speeches, he could begin hinting that he might return to the party, perhaps even make an announcement.”

“Ari, start researching Hank’s record, then draft a speech or two for his approval. You can polish them later.”

“Yes, William, I think that’s the right thing to do.”

“I’ll be in touch.” William logged off.

Annie spoke up. “You heard that. We’re not only back in business, but if we can pull this off and get this guy elected, we’ll have a bright future as political consultants, with a reputation as geniuses!”

“I could stand that,” Ari said.

Tim Tigner opened his bag, shook out the laundry into a pile on the floor, and threw himself on the bed. As he did, his throwaway rang.

“Yes?” he said wearily.

“We need to meet today,” Damien said.

“It’ll have to be tomorrow,” Tigner replied. “I drove all the way back with no rest, and I need to sleep.”

“Today,” Damien said.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t call again today.” Tigner hung up and went to sleep without undressing.

Bob and Sherry moved her things into his Brooklyn place in the dead of night, and began to settle in.

Sherry flopped onto the sofa. “My doctor says I can have an occasional drink,” she said. “I’m feeling occasional.”

Bob poured them both a drink and flopped down beside her. “What did he have to say about sex?” he asked.

“Oh, he said I had to avoid sex,” she replied.

“What?”

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” she said, laughing. “He said sex is okay, too, as long as I’m on top.”

“Did he actually say that?”

“He did. He said it’s better for my brain.”

“Maybe no sex for a while is better for your brain.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I am. How quickly can you get naked?”

“Shortly after I finish this drink,” she said.

They both drank for a while without talking.

“You know,” she said finally, “as tough as this has been, I think it’s worked out well. I mean, getting shot in the head is no picnic, but I don’t remember most of it, and as a result, I’ve met some very nice people, and I’ve gotten away from some very bad ones.”

“On behalf of everyone you’ve met, I thank you,” Bob said.

She jumped up and started shedding clothes. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

Bob was ready, too.

Tigner slept through the night until early the following afternoon. After a shower and shave, he called Damien.

“It’s about time,” Damien said.

“Same place, five-thirty?”

“I’ll be there.” They both hung up.

Damien got there first and, for a moment, was afraid Tigner wasn’t going to show.

Tigner sat down fifteen minutes later. “I’ve got to get a motorcycle,” he said.

“Why?”

“The traffic in this city is too much. I need to be able to drive between lanes of traffic, the way I did in Paris.”

“Makes sense,” Damien said, “except for the head injuries.”

“I always wear a helmet.”

“Maybe a motorcycle is a good idea,” Damien said.

“For work, you mean?”

“I mean that Barrington lives in a house that’s a fortress. When he goes out, he leaves in an armored car from his own garage, and he doesn’t take long walks. Not since we’ve been trying to kill him, anyway.”