“I figured,” Rodgers replied. “It’s a good one. Yours?”
She nodded, then turned her attention back to Orr.
“Our independence will be built on a framework that already exists but has been marginalized by legislation and special interests: the Bill of Rights and the American Constitution. Other nations do not understand our passion for these documents. They do not understand our passion for the freedoms they protect. They are accustomed to being dominated by kings or czars or warlords. We threw off a foreign king. We will not tolerate the dictates of other nations. We will not put their needs above our own. We will no longer be part of a globalization process that finds our values and our way of life reprehensible.”
There were more cheers and a few raised fists. Granted, these were the converted. But Rodgers liked what he heard. He could imagine that a majority of American voters would, too.
“Our party will be holding its first convention later this week in San Diego,” Orr went on. “Just as the USF will not be an ordinary party, ours will not be a business-as-usual convention. The doors will be open to all. Everyone who attends will have a vote. That is the American way.”
The group roared its approval.
Rodgers leaned toward Kat. “I assume you have a plan to fill the convention center,” he said. “What are there, about ten thousand seats?”
“Twelve thousand,” she said. “Four thousand people are being bused from Texas alone. We have a lot of support in Orange County less than an hour from the convention center—”
“John Wayne country.”
“That’s right. Our people there have organized a Freedom Freeway caravan to drive to San Diego,” Kat told him. “That should bring us another three thousand. We have smaller groups coming from other parts of the country, and we believe individuals will come just to be part of something new and exciting.”
“The press likes caravans of ordinary folks,” Rodgers observed.
Kat smiled. Like her namesake, Rodgers thought.
Orr continued speaking. Rodgers just now noticed that he barely consulted his note cards. He had taken the time to memorize his speech. He was using the silences to make eye contact with the crowd.
“There may be voters in my great home state who feel abandoned by this change in party affiliation,” Orr continued. “To those people I say, only the label has changed. The Texan is still a Texan. Don Orr is the same man. He is still a champion for the young who want to work and the elderly who don’t want to retire. He believes that service to the nation, to its industry and its economy, should be honored. To those Americans who do not yet know me, I ask that you listen to what we have to say over the next days, and weeks, and months. We are not vainglorious politicians interested in power. We are not puppets controlled by special interest groups or special interest money. We are proud Americans who want to restore our nation to what it was and can be again. A country of scholars and adventurers. A land of bounty, not just in food and natural resources but also ideas. A launching pad of extraordinary new goals worthy of an exceptional people. A nation of justice and equality for the wealthy and those less fortunate, for the healthy and the infirm, for people of all ages.”
“Leave no vote unharvested,” Rodgers whispered to Kat.
“Perhaps, but the senator isn’t pandering, General,” Kat said. “He means it.”
“I believe he does,” Rodgers said. “In fact, I’m counting on it.” The general was doing more than that. He was responding to it. Whether it was his own situation with Op-Center or a general frustration with bureaucracy, politics, and a fragmented national focus, he was becoming enthusiastic for the first time in years.
“And finally, a few words to our friends abroad,” Orr said. “United States First does not mean United States only. We believe that a strong and vital America is essential to the health and prosperity of the world. But we believe our role should be as a beacon, not as a bank. We will be trailblazers, not nursemaids. The world is best served by a United States of America that is not a crutch but a foundation, strong and unshakable. This is the platform of our party, one that is designed to serve the proud people of our nation. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for your gracious attention today and in the days to come. God bless you all, and God bless these United States.”
As the crowd cheered, Kendra maneuvered the senator from the podium and reporters. Questions were being shouted about William Wilson, but they were being ignored. Kat was making notes in a PalmPilot about who was asking the unfriendly questions. Those reporters would probably find access to the senator restricted until that was no longer an issue.
Link had gone ahead to a waiting sedan. Kendra tucked the senator into the back of the black limo and slid in beside him. When they drove off, Rodgers followed Kat toward a table where beverages and snacks were available. They grabbed two cups of coffee before the reporters came by, then walked slowly across the lawn behind the Capitol.
“You know, if a major party candidate had said all that, they’d call it bluster and rhetoric,” Rodgers told her.
“That’s the difference between Senator Orr and the others,” Kat said. “Do you disagree?”
“Not a bit. I found it inspiring,” Rodgers said.
“Really?” Kat asked.
“Yeah. Especially the part about people not getting retired.”
Kat smiled. “You know, I didn’t even think of that.”
“I am curious, though. Why was Kendra running interference over there instead of you?”
“We wanted to make the senator’s departure seem like a security concern rather than blocking the press,” she said.
“That makes sense,” Rodgers said. At least in an image-sensitive Washingtonian way. “Meanwhile, what’s happening with the Wilson matter?”
“You mean did the other murder take the pressure off?” she asked. “Somewhat, though a few reporters privately wonder if we were responsible for both.”
“Were you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Kat replied dryly. “This whole thing is like a homicidal ‘House That Jack Built.’ This is the candidate who hired a killer to slay the realtor to cover the assassination that got him the attention for the campaign that Kat built.” The young woman shook her head. “There are always—always—going to be three groups of reporters and commentators. Those who think you’re guilty of something, those who think you’re innocent, and those who think the topic is a sideshow. You only need the last two groups to stay in the race.”
“As far as public relations are concerned,” Rodgers said.
“Right. It doesn’t help if you’re actually guilty.”
Lucy O’Connor caught up to the two. She looked tired. Rodgers noticed the red light on her microcassette recorder was on. The tape was still turning.
“Good morning,” the reporter said. “That was a terrific speech.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell the senator you thought so,” Kat replied.
“Is anything new, on or off the record?” Lucy asked. She looked at Rodgers, and he looked at her. She repeated the question with her eyes.
“Apart from the senator running for president of the United States? Nothing,” Kat said. “What are you hearing?”
“A lot of backlash from the rush-to-judgment mentality everyone had yesterday,” Lucy replied.
“Did people really think Senator Orr was behind the assassination?” Rodgers asked.
“I would categorize it as a perverse hope,” Lucy replied.
Rodgers shook his head. “Perverse is a good word.”
“A story like the Hypo-Slayer is where above-the-fold by lines and book deals come from,” Lucy added. “Speaking of stories, General, are you ready to tell me what you’re doing here?”