“So you think Will Lee could really be out?”
“Could happen, Bob, and it would be a pity, because I think a lot of Democrats around the country would find him an attractive candidate when they get to know him. He has an excellent reputation in the Senate, among both Democrats and Republicans. He’s often compared to both Sam Nunn and Ted Kennedy, which is unusual. He’s compared to Nunn because of his deep knowledge of defense issues, though he’s much more skeptical of Pentagon requests than Nunn was, and he’s compared to Kennedy, not for his politics, but for his hard legislative work and outstanding staff.”
“What about his wife’s job at the CIA?” the anchorman asked.
“I haven’t heard anybody but Republicans complain about that. Katharine Rule Lee is a career CIA officer, and she’s risen to a high level, being in charge of all the Agency’s Intelligence analysts. She was something of a heroine a dozen years ago, when she was instrumental in the arrest of Ed Rawls, who is said to be the most damaging mole in the history of the Agency, except perhaps for Aldrich Ames. She’s a very bright lady, by all accounts, but she intends to hold on to her Agency job come hell or high water, and she’s not going to be seen on the campaign trail, except at the Democratic convention.”
“Bob, on the off chance that Will Lee should be elected, is there some sort of inherent conflict in having a president whose wife is in an important CIA job?”
“I expect the Republicans would say so, Bob, but nothing like this has ever happened before. No first lady has ever been a government employee, either before or after an election.”
“Would Will Lee be likely to consider appointing his wife as Director of Central Intelligence, if he were elected?”
“I don’t think so, although Kate Lee is said to be an eventual contender for that job, should some future president appoint a career CIA officer instead of an outsider.”
“Well, it’s all very interesting, Bill, and the polls are closing in New Hampshire in just a minute, so after the break, we’ll come back with our exit polling and see if Will Lee is going to be able to manage to stay in this race.”
The cameras went to commercial.
Will, Kate, and a dozen of Will’s staff sat around a large-screen television set at campaign headquarters. Will could talk again, now, though he had been advised not to, unless absolutely necessary.
“This doesn’t look good,” Tim Coleman said. “We sure could have used those four days.”
Will nodded.
“I wish we had some poll results of our own,” Tim said.
“We’re about to get some,” Will whispered.
Bob Blakely came back on camera, sitting at a V-shaped desk with three other people, among them Bill Varner. “Our director is telling us that we’re going to have these exit-poll results flashed on our big screen behind us, and none of us has seen them yet, so this will be hot off the wire.” He turned toward the screen behind him. “Here they come. Bill, you want to take us through this?”
“Sure, Bob, I...” Varner stopped talking. “Wait a minute, here, are you guys in the control booth running a game on us?” He pressed a finger to his earpiece. “This is really what’s come in?” He listened again. “All right, here we go. Now, remember, these numbers are from exit polls, and we won’t have the real numbers until midnight, but what we’ve got here is a major near upset. Our exit polls are showing Senator George Kiel not with more than fifty percent of the vote, as predicted, but with only forty-one percent. Next — and this is stunning, I don’t know what happened — is Senator Will Lee of Georgia with thirty-six percent, and after him, Senator Mark Haynes with only eight percent of the vote.”
“You think there might be something wrong with our exit polling, Bill?” the anchorman asked.
Varner had his finger to his earpiece again. “I’m hearing from New Hampshire that our people are standing behind these numbers, that they’re real.”
“And what is this going to mean, Bill?”
“It means that Will Lee is solidly in this race — he’s still behind, but if these numbers hold, then something has happened in New Hampshire that we never expected. If he can bring in numbers like this while in bed with the flu for the last four days of the campaign, then he may really have something going for him.”
Back at campaign headquarters, Will was being hugged by Kate and pummeled on the back by Tim Coleman and Kitty Conroy.
“Let’s wait for the real results,” he managed to whisper.
24
It was midnight, and ninety-eight percent of the ballots in New Hampshire had been counted, confirming the network’s exit polls. Bob Blakely and Bill Varner still sat at their desk.
“Bill,” Blakely said, “this has certainly been a big night for Will Lee. To what do you attribute this big surprise?”
“Bob, we’ve put together some footage taken earlier today, when the polls were still open, and we asked people who voted for Lee why they did. Let’s listen.”
A woman carrying a small child appeared on camera. “I met him a couple of times early in the campaign,” she said, “and I just liked him. And when I saw that thing from the Kiwanis Club, I just laughed until I cried. I really felt for him.”
An elderly man came on camera. “I heard that his car ran into another fellow’s car right before that Kiwanis meeting, and Mr. Lee wrote him a check on the spot. That impressed me.”
A young woman’s face appeared. “Well, he’s charming, isn’t he? He gives an honest answer to a question, and he looks you in the eye. He doesn’t talk like a politician, even when he can’t talk.”
Another woman: “Listen, I’ve had the flu myself, and I know how bad it can be. But he kept going until he couldn’t go anymore, and I admire that.”
The camera went back to the studio. “Well, Bob, I don’t know, I guess the folks in New Hampshire just liked the man.”
“Bob, we haven’t been able to get George Kiel to join us, but we’ve got Jim Thomas, Kiel’s campaign manager, so let’s go over to Kiel campaign headquarters.” A bespectacled man appeared on the screen. “Jim, what happened up there today?”
“Well, Bob, we won the damn primary, that’s what happened!”
“But you didn’t get a clear majority, as you had been predicting you would. Why not?”
“Listen, it was you guys who predicted that, not us. We’re just glad to have the victory.”
“Do you think you would have won if Will Lee had had those last four days to campaign?”
“Sure, I do; I think we would have beat him even worse.”
“Thanks, Jim.” The camera went back to the studio, and Bob Blakely turned to the camera. “Well, we’ve got just one more stop to make before we’re done. Even though George Kiel got the most votes, the big winner in New Hampshire seems to be Will Lee.” Will appeared on the big screen from his campaign headquarters, smiling. “Senator, your staff has told us that you can’t say much, because of your delicate voice, so give us just some idea of how you feel tonight, and we’ll let you go.”
Will’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, Bob,” he croaked, “I think I can win this nomination if I can just get sick enough.”
Republican Senator Frederick Wallace of South Carolina picked up the remote control and switched off the television, still laughing.
His companion, Jeb Stuart Calhoun, the junior senator from South Carolina, took a swig of his bourbon. “Well, Freddie, what do you think of that?”
Wallace puffed on his cigar. “I think Will Lee kicked George Kiel’s ass, that’s what I think.”