“That’s about it,” he said. “Somebody used the telephone line I had the stuff connected to, so I kept getting busy signals. It’s an incredibly long shot, but it happened.”
“What made it go off in the middle of the night?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe somebody called a wrong number. Who knows?”
“I like your technique,” another man said. “We should use it again sometime.”
“It didn’t work,” the first man pointed out.
“A fluke. I think it was brilliant, Zeke; it should have worked.”
“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Zeke said. “Next time, I’m going to have to use more direct means.”
“That’s gonna be dangerous, Zeke.”
“I think it was Harry Truman who said that anybody could kill a president if he didn’t mind dying himself. That goes for a candidate, too.”
“Zeke, you’re no good to us dead.”
Right now, I’m not much good to you alive, either,” Zeke replied.
George Kiel’s airplane was one of the new Boeing business jets. There were a bedroom and a shower aft, and an office adjacent. Up front there were seats for thirty-four staff and press. “Poor George,” Kate said, settling into a comfortable armchair. “Now he’ll have to fly in that fleapit you were using.”
“You don’t know George,” Will said. “With his connections, he’ll have something lined up in a hurry. I’ll bet he was on the phone to Boeing before he made his acceptance speech.”
The airplane was over Kansas on the flight to Washington when the news came that the president was dead. By the time they landed, the funeral had already been set for two days hence.
Will and Kate arrived at the house about dark.
“I’d hoped you could just rest while the Republicans hold their convention,” Kate said.
“I’ll rest,” Will said. “The funeral is just one day.”
Kate turned to the Secret Service detail chief. “I don’t want my husband killed at that funeral,” she said.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Lee,” the man replied. “The senator’s detail is of presidential proportions now, and that funeral is going to have the tightest security in the history of the world.”
“You’d better be right,” Kate replied.
54
Will and Kate were filing into the National Cathedral for the president’s funeral. The organ was playing a prelude as the huge crowd moved toward the pews, and the echo of their murmurs mixed with the music to create a somber atmosphere. They were headed toward the seats reserved for senators when Will felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Freddie Wallace behind him.
“Morning, Will,” the senator drawled. “A sad day.”
“Yes, it is, Freddie. How are you?”
Wallace grinned a little. “I’ve been worse,” he said. “I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on your nomination. Good going, boy.”
“Thank you, Freddie,” Will replied.
“Mind if I join you?” Wallace asked, sliding into a pew beside Will. “Good morning, Kate,” he said, leaning forward to speak to her.
Kate gave him a tight little smile, then turned her attention to the pulpit.
“Kate’s a little chilly this morning, isn’t she?” Wallace said.
“It’s a chilly time,” Will said.
“Anything I can do to help you in the election?” Wallace asked.
Will turned and looked at him, astonished. “Freddie, that’s quite an offer,” he said. “Are you forgetting your party affiliation?”
“Friendship is more important than politics, son. Ben Carr and I were as close as you can get, and I’ve always admired you, helped you when I could, behind the scenes, of course.”
“That’s very generous of you, Freddie,” Will said, not believing any of it. “I’ll tell you what you could do that would be good for all of us.”
“You name it, boy.”
“Help Joe, instead of me. He’s got precious little time left to serve, and I know he’d like to leave some substantive legislation behind. Help him get his package through.”
“As much as I love Joe, Will, there’s some pernicious stuff in that program.”
“It was put together with serious consultation with Republicans, yourself among them.”
Wallace shook his head. “I don’t know, Will.”
“Well, then, Freddie,” Will admonished gently, “the very least you can do for him is to stop spreading nasty rumors about him.”
Wallace looked shocked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Freddie, leave him alone. Let him finish his term and retire gracefully.”
“Will, I never said a word...”
“Listen to me, Freddie,” Will said, and his voice was no longer gentle. “The odds are at least fair that I’m going to be elected in November. I’d like to think that, if I’m president of the United States, you and I could maintain the same warm relationship we’ve always had, rather than something more...contentious.”
Wallace’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me, boy?”
Will lifted his eyes from the program in his hand and turned to face Wallace.
“Yes, Freddie, I am. Joe is my friend; if you want me for an enemy, then you have only to harm him.”
Wallace was saved from replying by a sudden burst of organ music.
“Oh, look,” Will said, glancing at the program. “The first hymn is one of my favorites: ‘Standing on the Promises.’”
The audience plunged haphazardly into the rousing old Baptist hymn, and both men sang along without benefit of hymnbook.
At the reception for members of Congress that followed at the White House, Will was suddenly presented with a new attitude toward him from people of both parties; he was being treated more like a president than a senator. When it was his turn to present his condolences to the first widow in the reception line, he found himself standing next to Howard Efton. After they had both done their duty, Efton pulled him over to a window of the East Room.
“Congratulations on your nomination, Will,” Efton said, shaking hands.
“And good luck to you at your convention, Eft. Actually, it looks as though you won’t need much in the way of luck. You seem to have it just about sewn up.”
“Well, we’ll see,” Efton said. “Will, I’ve been hearing disturbing rumors about Joe Adams.”
“I’ve heard about those rumors,” Will replied.
“Where are you in all this?”
“I’m between Joe and anyone who wants to hurt him,” Will said.
“I hear at least one columnist has the story.”
“It would be a grave error for any journalist to publish an unsubstantiated rumor of that sort, and it would be an even graver error for any public figure to lend credence to it.”
“You could be right.”
“Eft, we haven’t gotten over the impeachment episode yet, and this business could have the effect of making things infinitely worse between the parties. I, for one, would take the same umbrage to some published report that I would to an attack on my wife.” Might as well kill two birds with one well-thrown stone, Will thought.
“I’ll do everything I can to see that neither of those things happens,” Efton said.
“I’d appreciate that.”
Efton smiled. “Of course, anything else is fair game.”
Will smiled back. “I think we should both choose our weapons wisely, lest they cut both ways.”
“That’s good advice, Will,” Efton said. “Now, we’d better get back to the ladies.”
The two men returned to their wives, who were chatting woodenly. Will took Kate’s elbow, and whispered. “Rumors about Joe are rife,” he said. “I’ve done what I can to tamp them down.”