An agent popped the cover on the main phone panel and went through it, line by line and extension by extension.
“It’s been checked and rechecked by the people who installed it,” Zeke said. “It’s working perfectly.”
The agent nodded. “I just wanted to be sure there was nothing in the box but telephone wiring.”
The man had given Zeke an idea. He’d planned to detonate with a timing device, but now he realized that these people might very well spot that. The telephone system offered a more elegant solution.
Above their heads, a roar went up from the crowd.
“Sounds like they’ve finished the balloting,” an agent said.
Will sat with his father before the big-screen TV in the living room of his suite, a list of delegates before them. The last of the big states, Texas, was polling its delegation for the second ballot.
“If we can get past Texas without losing too many delegates, we can hold our own,” Billy said. “But not much better than that.”
The television commentators were having a field day; they had not seen a race this close for many a convention.
The Texas vote was announced by the delegation chairman, to a roar from the whole convention.
“We’re alive,” Billy said, “but there are still fifty delegates from other, smaller states to go.”
They held Utah and Vermont, then lost two Virginia delegates. Washington, West Virginia, and Wisconsin came in as expected.
“We have a net loss of one delegate,” Billy said. “It’s not much, but it scares the hell out of me.”
Only Wyoming was left to vote, with only three delegates, all of whom had voted for Kiel on the first ballot. They were sitting together in the front row.
“Mr. Chairman,” the delegation leader boomed into the microphone, “before announcing our vote, I request a poll of the delegation!”
The crowd erupted into wild laughter and applause.
“The delegation will be polled,” the chairman said. “The clerk will call the roll.”
“Mr. Weston,” the clerk said.
“Mr. Chairman,” Weston said, “I wish to cast my vote for the next president of the United States, Senator Will Lee of Georgia!”
“That’s one,” Will said. “I hadn’t expected that.”
“Your mother has been on the phone with Governor Tobias, talking cattle.” Will’s mother had been the cattle farmer in the family.
“Ms. Evans,” the clerk called.
A woman stood up. “I cast my vote for Senator Will Lee!” she shrieked.
“Mr. Tobias,” the clerk called.
The governor stood. “Mr. Chairman, Wyoming is unanimous for Senator Will Lee!”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Will said.
“We’ve got a net gain of two,” Billy cackled. “I wish it was six, but it’ll have to do.”
They went through the delegate count again, to be sure they had missed no votes, then Kate came across the room with a cordless phone, her hand over the receiver. “Will, George Kiel is on the phone,” she said.
Will looked at his father.
“I guess you know what this is about,” Billy said. “You’d better talk to him.”
Will took the phone. “Hello, George,” he said.
“Will, we have to talk.”
“Go ahead.”
“No, I want us to meet; I’ve got a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Will you come over here?”
Will didn’t like the idea of talking on Kiel’s turf, and he hesitated.
“Will, we have to talk; there’s something you don’t know.”
“All right, George, but it will have to be alone — nobody else at all. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Kiel gave him the bungalow number. “Your Secret Service people will know the back way in. Nobody will see you.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Will said, then hung up the phone. He looked around the room. “Now I have to decide whether I can stand being vice president,” he said.
“You could do worse, Will,” his father said.
“I know it,” Will replied. “I knew it might come to this, but now I’ve got to decide before I get to the Beverly Hills Hotel.”
“You’ve already heard what all of us think, Will,” his father said. “Do whatever you feel is right, and we’ll be with you.”
“Kate?”
“Whatever you want is good enough for me,” she replied.
Will stood up and got into his jacket. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said.
47
The Secret Service car drove up Sunset Boulevard, past the Beverly Hills Hotel, then made a left and drove uphill for a couple of hundred yards. A guard at a nearly hidden gate looked at the agent driver’s ID, then opened the gate. A moment later, the car glided to a stop before a cottage that was nearly buried in a jungle of California landscaping.
Will got out of the car, walked to the door, and rang the bell. George Kiel opened the door. “Wait here,” Will said to the agent. He walked inside, and Kiel closed the door behind him.
Evening, Will,” Kiel said, offering his hand. Kiel was a big man, six-two or — three, and heavy. He was dressed in a suit, and he took off his jacket and tossed it on a chair. “Can I get you a drink? I’m having one.”
“Bourbon on the rocks,” Will replied.
Kiel motioned to a chair before the fireplace, where a gas log was cheerfully pretending to burn. “Have a seat.”
Will sat down; Kiel brought the drinks and sat down, too.
“You know, Howard Hughes used to live in this cottage.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, and I expect a lot of starlets were sampled right here.”
Will didn’t respond to that.
“How’s your week going?” Kiel asked.
“Actually, it’s going pretty well, after the balloting this evening,” Will replied.
Kiel chuckled. “Tobias did a one-eighty on me,” he said. “How’d you do that?”
“I sicced my mother on him,” Will replied, sipping lightly at his drink. He was going to need a clear head for this.
“I may as well warn you, Will, I’m going to pick up a substantial number of California votes tomorrow night.”
“By promising to keep Castle Point open?”
Kiel shrugged.
“George, if you break your commitment to follow the commission’s recommendations, why will those folks believe you won’t break your new commitment to them?”
“Just think of it as politics, Will.”
“It’s bad politics, George.”
Kiel ignored that. “Will, I want to compliment you on the way you’ve run your campaign. You’ve done it in a principled manner, and I admire that. In a way, I’m sorry to see you fall short.”
“So far, you’ve fallen short yourself, George; remember, we gained delegates on the second ballot.”
“So you did,” Kiel admitted. “All two of them.”
“We expect to win on the fourth ballot,” Will said. This was a bluff, and Will thought Kiel probably knew it, but he was surprised to see a flicker of doubt flash across the man’s face.
Kiel took a deep breath. “It won’t get to a fourth ballot; my people tell me we’ll win on the first ballot tomorrow night.”
Now it was Will’s turn to wonder if Kiel was bluffing. Did he know something Will didn’t? He’d said something like that on the phone. “If you do, George, I’ll be the first to support you. I’ll turn over what’s left of my war chest, after our bills are paid, and I’ll campaign for you actively. If you win the nomination.”
“That’s very generous, Will; it’s what I’d expect from you.”
Will decided to keep his mouth shut and let Kiel do the rest of the talking.
“Will,” Kiel said finally, “I want you to run on the ticket with me in the second spot.”