Stuart Woods - Below the Belt

Knott laughed. “If I didn’t think that, I wouldn’t even be considering a run.”

“And why are you forming a new party, instead of running as either a Republican or a Democrat?”

“I’ve never been strongly attracted to either party. I’m fairly liberal on social issues and conservative on fiscal policy. I’m not an ideologue, I’m a pragmatist, and I believe in what works. Also, Katharine Lee is assured of her party’s nomination, so there’s no room for me in the Democratic Party, and the Republican Party is so exhausted from the last election and are such hidebound ideologues that I wouldn’t fit in there. There isn’t an existing party that has any real standing, so starting from scratch seems the best way to the general election.”

“That route has never worked before,” Shawn pointed out.

“We’ve never had quite the same conditions before,” Knott replied evenly. “Also, there’s never been a candidate with roots in broadcasting. If I run I’ll produce a number of hour-long films that will explain exactly what my policy goals are across the policy spectrum. They’ll be available online, and people can watch them at their own pace and as many times as they wish.”

“It sounds like a tutorial,” Shawn said.

“A tutorial on what I believe, what I know, and what I plan to do.”

The program ended, and Stone was surprised to find that he had been impressed. His meeting with Knott on St. Clair’s yacht had been brief, but now he knew a great deal more.

His phone rang. “Hello?”

It was Will Lee. “What did you think of Mr. Knott?”

“Well, he was very nice to you, wasn’t he?”

Will laughed. “Come on, what did you think?”

“I was impressed, when I hadn’t expected to be. I think he did a very good job of presenting himself as somebody who might make a good President.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that, because it confirms my own judgment,” Will said. “I think Mr. Knott is going to be a formidable candidate.”

“Do you think Kate can beat him?”

“Yes, but she’s going to have to take a fresh look at the campaign and how it’s going to work, and she’s going to have to anticipate his every move and counter it.”

“She’ll be on the defensive, then?”

“Every candidate for reelection is on the defensive — that’s the nature of the beast.”

“I don’t know what I can do to help,” Stone said, “but please know that I’ll do whatever I’m asked.”

“You’ve already proven that with your help on this strong case thing, Stone. It’s not your fault that we’ve lost control of the situation.”

“How do we get control back?”

“I’m not sure that we can, but I’m thinking about it. If I come up with something and you can help, I’ll let you know.”

The two men said goodbye and hung up.

Stone spent the next day with a feeling of unease. It disturbed him that he had been so easily impressed, when he thought of himself as a skeptic. If he could be swayed, why not a great many others? The idea of Kate having to leave office without a second term was painful to him.

Late in the afternoon, his cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Ed Rawls.”

“What a surprise,” Stone said wryly. “Are you enjoying being back in your own home?”

“I’m impressed that you know that.”

“I think everybody who wants to know probably now knows. I hear you’re rebuilding your Islesboro house, too.”

“There’s only been one phone call on that subject, and that makes me wonder how you know.”

“I have friends, too, Ed, some of them remarkably well informed. In a recent conversation with one of them I asked a question you might be able to answer for me.”

“What’s your question?”

“Why would you want to release or even possess information that might be harmful to Kate’s presidency? Do you have something against her and Will, or are you just ungrateful?”

“I have no intention of doing anything that would harm either of them.”

“You’re kind of slow getting around to telling me that, aren’t you?”

“I have my reasons, and I can’t explain them over the phone.”

“You were in my house for three days — you could have told me face-to-face.”

“Once you know everything, you’ll understand my reticence.”

“What, exactly, do you plan to do, Ed?”

“Not over the phone.”

“Did you watch 60 Minutes last night?”

“I did.”

“What did you think of Knott?”

“Creepy and dangerous.”

“Is there anything in your strong case that would bear on his candidacy?”

“There is something, and St. Clair’s people have done such a good job of sanitizing his past that I might be one of only two or three people left alive who know about it.”

“Were the others very old or very unlucky?”

“Very unlucky. Three, perhaps four people are dead because they knew.”

“This is beginning to sound like a conspiracy theory, Ed.”

“It isn’t a theory, and it’s spelled out, with supporting evidence, in my manuscript.”

“And what do you intend to do with it?”

“Publish it.”

“You have a publisher?”

“I’m the writer, editor, and publisher, and it’s ready to go.”

“If you’re self-publishing, you’re still going to need a printer.”

“There is new equipment that can print, bind, wrap, and put postage on a book. All I have to do is to plug a thumb drive into its computer, then walk around to the other end and collect the finished books in envelopes, already stamped.”

“How are you going to distribute it?”

“I have a mailing list of two hundred opinion makers. All I have to do is take the boxes to a post office. You’re on my list, so you’ll get a copy, so will Holly Barker.”

“And when can I expect it?”

“When I think the moment is right.”

“And how will you decide that?”

“By weighing all the factors in play. I don’t have any trouble making decisions.”

“Something else I don’t understand, Ed.”

“What’s that?”

“Why are you suddenly living openly in your own home, where anyone can walk in, kill you, and take your strong case?”

“They’ve found me three times,” Rawls said. “In Maine, at your house, and now at my house, and I’m still alive. They’re being run by a man named Erik Macher, out of his security business office in D.C. Have you ever heard of him?”

“No. Who is he?”

“He’s Christian St. Clair’s personal policeman. He’s offered me half a million dollars for the strong case, and I think I told you he has more people than a lot of police departments. Two of them showed up in the house, escorted by a real estate agent with whom I had listed the place. Another turned up yesterday, clumsily disguised as a window washer. I’m just tired of running.”

“When are you going to print the book, Ed?”

“I printed it this morning,” Rawls said. “It’s ready for mailing.”

“Do you think this Macher guy knows that?”

“No. I got it all done without being rumbled.”

“And where are the books?”

“They’re at a packing and shipping place in D.C., which is waiting for my call. I dropped them off an hour and a half ago.”

“Are you going to be able to stay alive until you can make that call?”

“I expect so. I can text them in less than a minute.”

“Ed, why did you call me?”

“To give you the phone number of the shipping place. If you hear that something has happened to me or that I’ve disappeared, I’d be grateful if you’d make the call for me. I’ve told them you could be the one to give them instructions.”