“ Edmund Lane called me about this,” Nick said. “He told me he and Warner had handled it.”
“Say that again,” she instructed ever so softly.
“Edmund said he’d handle it because he was afraid he’d caused the problem for Warner. Since they obviously have some pull with the magazine, they assured me it would never happen again.”
“Nick, I want to make something very clear to you. Edmund Lane is not part of this campaign.” Her voice trembled with barely suppressed anger.
“Not according to Warner. I’m sure you can appreciate my position.”
Carolyn reined in her rage. “I repeat: nothing goes on without my knowledge.”
“I understand, but I think you should know that Edmund is worried about Young’s position. We discussed the situation and agreed that something has to be done. And soon. He feels that Warner’s friendship is clouding his judgment. I tend to agree with him. As it stands now, we can’t beat the guy.”
“Nick, you’re not listening to me. If you don’t do as I ask, then I’ll have to make other arrangements. Do you understand me now?” she asked, aware that he’d never been terminated from a professional position.
Nick said nothing for a long moment.
Carolyn remained silent, although she felt like screaming.
“I understand, Carolyn. I just don’t think Edmund’s clear on it.”
Carolyn severed the connection. Did she dare question Warner about Edmund? No, she thought, let them have their little secret. Fighting with them was the last thing she needed right now, but forewarned was forearmed. She had to remain focused on the campaign – a united front.
She returned her attention to the magazine. Damn the press. And damn Jack Rudly. First he’d hurt Katherine, and now he’d gone after Warner. She realized that as a journalist he had a job to do, but this felt personal. If he wanted a blood bath, she’d give him one, but it wasn’t Warner’s blood that was going to be spilled.
THIRTY-THREE
Bobby Young peddled hard against the wind, racing his new bike against his father’s car. At the stop sign. Bobby pulled up short and waved a mittened hand at his father.
Richard Young motioned for his son to zip up his coat, then gave him a thumbs-up before turning the corner and heading toward his office.
Bobby jumped the curb, turned in the opposite direction, and peddled with all of his might toward his elementary school. The flaps of his open jacket blew behind him like the cape of Superman.
Tires squealed on pavement as a truck burned a strip of rubber around the corner ahead of him.
Bobby looked up quickly. His gaze caught in the eyes of the Asian driver. He swerved to the edge of the road. His bike skidded on a patch of gravel. He fought for control.
The Ford Explorer matched his swerve, bearing down on him for a head on collision.
Bobby screamed as the SUV snagged his front wheel, crushing the rim and flipping the bike.
Bobby somersaulted through the air. His nine-year-old body cracked into the windshield, flew over the roof of the Explorer and landed on the ground behind the vehicle.
Associated Press
January 16,2000
Senator Young’s Son Critically Injured
ATLANTA – Senator Richard Young’s son, Bobby, age nine, was seriously injured when hit by a car. His condition is considered serious, but stable. Witnesses say the accident was a hit and run. Bobby Young was riding his bike when a white Ford Explorer swerved around a corner, hitting the boy head on. A witness described the hit-and-run driver as an Asian female. She is wanted for questioning.
THIRTY-FOUR
Nick walked into Carolyn’s office and handed her a hot dog. “Lunch is served.”
“Nutritious.” Carolyn accepted.
“The path is almost clear for us.” Nick said, then bit into his own hot dog as he sank down into the nearest chair.
“I think Davis and Landon are both out of it. We still have to worry about Gaston, though. He could be tough to beat since New Hampshire is his home state.” Carolyn wiped mustard from the corners of her mouth with a tissue. “And I can’t believe our luck. David Taylor’s defeating himself. I don’t get it. He’s got the best of the best as far as political advisors are concerned. No offense to you, of course, yet he appears completely disorganized.”
“You’re right. They haven’t been able to define his campaign. People don’t know what he stands for or what he presents. He’ll get killed in the primaries.” Nick waved his hot dog for emphasis.
“I’m worried about Richard Young and his family,” she said. “What a horrible accident. Not that I ever liked the man, but I can’t stand the thought of that little boy lying in a hospital bed. Thank God, he’s going to make it. Did we send flowers yet?”
Nick nodded. “Rumor has it Young is going to withdraw from the primaries. They say the kid may never walk again.”
Carolyn set aside her hotdog. “That makes me sick. I wonder if we can help in any way. Put a call into his office and offer our support.”
“I’ll do it right away. At this point, he’s canceled all of his commitments. It’s a bad break for him, but we obviously benefit from the tragedy.” He shook his head. “Political Reality 101.”
“I don’t care about how this accident has ‘helped’ us,” Carolyn snapped. “A little boy is horribly injured, and I have no desire to profit from such a catastrophic event. That’s not what we’re about here.”
Nick flushed. “I understand. Forgive me for being so insensitive.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Good.” Nick pushed up from his chair. “Onward and upward.”
Once he was gone. Carolyn dialed Mark’s number. “Mark, it’s Carolyn.” Her tone was all business.
“How are you?”
She detected a note of discontent in Mark’s voice, but chose to ignore it. “Fine. I’m calling about the transactions you’ve been handling for me. I need a total dollar figure.”
Mark paused. “I’m uncomfortable about using campaign funds to hire investigators, and delaying tax payments. I’m also worried about my exposure. I have a family to care for.”
His remark sliced her heart. “I’m aware of your commitment to your family.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“Let it go. Mark.”
He continued. “It’s just that I spend my days in this courthouse fighting for what’s right. It used to be so cut and dried, black and white. And now I look in the mirror, and I don’t know who the bad guys are anymore.”
“How can you even think such a thing?” Carolyn asked. “You’re one of the good guys.”
“I don’t know about that anymore.”
What was bringing on his crisis of conscience? Certainly not hiring investigators, Carolyn thought. Mark was not naive, and none of this was illegal. Worst-case scenario was paying penalties to the Internal Revenue Service, and that was a long shot.
“What’s really bothering you?” she asked, her concern glowing. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
Mark hesitated. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“We both know who the bad guys are, Mark, you prosecute them every day. Nothing has changed, except your perception. You just aren’t looking at this clearly. The only way to fight a battle is to employ the tools necessary to win. We’re just aiming ourselves correctly.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s the same as having a weak case, but knowing the guy is guilty. You’d search for an angle and argue to use evidence even if you knew it was tainted, if that was all you had. Right?”
“This is a little different, misusing funds could be construed as improper.”
“And using tainted evidence isn’t? Think about this, please. There’s no difference here. We’re just bending the rules within the law. In this instance, the end justifies the means. If we knew a guy was guilty, we’d both use whatever we had, right or wrong, to get him convicted.”