Will sat in his dressing room and tried to hold still for the makeup lady, while continuing to go over debating points with Tim and Kitty. A television set was tuned to MSNBC, and the mention of Larry Moody’s name stopped all conversation. Everyone turned to watch.
“In just a minute we’ll be going live to the Georgia governor’s mansion, where the governor is about to make a statement on the Larry Moody case. Moody is scheduled to go to the electric chair at Reidsville State Prison tomorrow night. We’ve had a report that the actress Charlene Joiner visited with the governor last night and again this afternoon, leaving the mansion around five o’clock. Our reporter caught up to her at a local airport as she was boarding a private jet.”
Charlene appeared on camera at the door of the Centurion Studios airplane. “I visited with the governor last evening and again today and talked with him about Larry’s case. I believe he spent the day alone at the mansion, reviewing the case in detail, and I hope for a favorable announcement soon. This is Larry’s last chance to live.” She turned and boarded the airplane, and a steward closed the door.
The camera moved from the taxiing jet to the reporter. “Sources tell MSNBC that, after her arrival last night, Ms. Joiner was not seen to leave the governor’s mansion until late this afternoon. The governor’s wife is out of town, and his staff was kept at arm’s length all day as he and Ms. Joiner discussed the case. Back to the studio.”
Anchorwoman Laurie Dhue came on screen. “We go now to the governor’s mansion for the governor’s statement.”
The governor was seen to approach a cluster of microphones.
“You think Charlene was with him all night and all day?” Tim Coleman asked.
“He looks pretty tired to me,” Kitty replied.
The governor began to speak. “I have been reviewing in great detail the clemency request of Larry Eugene Moody, whose final appeal was recently turned down by the Supreme Court. I have concluded after much study and thought that, although Mr. Moody is certainly guilty of the crime with which he was charged, his defense by then senatorial candidate Will Lee with regard to the death penalty was a thoroughly incompetent one. I have therefore decided to commute Mr. Moody’s death sentence to life in prison, and I signed the appropriate papers a few minutes ago. That’s all; thank you.” The governor turned to go as the gathered reporters shouted questions.
“Did the visit by Charlene Joiner have anything to do with your decision?” one yelled.
The governor turned. “Ms. Joiner is one of the people I talked with about this.”
How long did you spend with her?” another reporter demanded.
“Is your wife still out of town?” a woman’s voice shouted.
“Good night, ladies and gentlemen,” the governor said, then walked back into the mansion and closed the door.
Will turned to the makeup lady. “All finished?”
“All finished,” she said.
“Then would you excuse us, please?” He waited until the door had been closed. “I don’t believe it,” he said. “I actually suggested this to Charlene.”
“Suggested what?” Kitty asked.
“She was aboard the airplane in Van Nuys, looking all sexy, and I said, why don’t you turn that on the governor? I’m damned if she didn’t!”
Tim’s mouth dropped open. “You mean you think that Charlene spent all night and all day screwing the governor?”
“Didn’t you see the bags under his eyes?” Kitty asked.
“She’s certainly capable of that,” Will said, “and you heard that his wife was out of town.”
“And that he spent the day alone,” Kitty added, “but Charlene didn’t leave until this afternoon. This has got to be a first in the administration of justice.”
“You just have to wonder,” Tim said, “what Charlene was administering.”
“You notice he got in a good punch at you, Senator,” Kitty said. “Two to one, Eft is going to come at you on this.”
“Let him come,” Will replied.
There was a knock at the door, and a Secret Service agent came in. “They’re ready for you, Senator,” he said. “You’re on the air in five minutes.”
“Let’s do it,” Will said.
62
Will followed a young woman to the wings at stage left. Looking across the stage, he could see Eft Efton, and they exchanged a wave. Will thought Efton was smiling rather smugly.
Zeke had to stand up to let a man into his row of seats; the man took the seat next to him, then glanced at Zeke’s ribbons.
“You were in ’Nam, were you?”
“Right,” Zeke replied.
“My name’s Dave Waters,” the man said, offering his hand.
“Henry Waldron,” Zeke replied, shaking the man’s hand.
“What outfit were you in?”
Zeke told him.
“You guys saw a lot of fighting at Da Nang, didn’t you?”
“You better believe it,” Zeke said.
“I never got out of Saigon, myself,” Waters replied.
Zeke was relieved when the lights went down and a voice came from the PA system.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and to our national television audience. Please welcome your moderator for the debate, Jim Lehrer of PBS.” There was a round of applause.
Lehrer took the stage. “Good evening,” he said. “Our format tonight provides for a three-minute opening statement from each candidate, followed by a series of questions from me. After that, the candidates will be allowed to ask each other questions, and each will have two minutes to answer them. Finally, each candidate will have three minutes for a closing statement. We flipped a coin earlier to decide who would speak first, so Representative Efton will go first with the opening statement, and Senator Lee will be first with the closing statement. Gentlemen?”
Will came from the left wings as Efton came from the right, and they took their positions at the lecterns, to considerable applause.
“Mr. Efton, you may begin,” Lehrer said. “I will warn you when you have thirty seconds left, and I will cut you off sharply after three minutes, if you are still talking.”
Efton cleared his throat and began to speak.
Zeke found himself to be nervous. He didn’t want to sit through all this; he wanted to get on with it. He stood up and walked toward the staircase to the men’s room and projection room. A Secret Service agent stopped him.
“Where are you going, sir?” he asked.
Zeke placed a hand on his lower abdomen. “To the men’s room, up the stairs, there.”
“You’ll have to use the one downstairs in the lobby,” the agent said.
Zeke frowned as though in pain. “I’m having an intestinal problem,” he said. “I don’t think I can make it that far.”
“All right,” the agent said, “go ahead.”
Zeke began walking up the stairs, and as he did, the agent moved away, apparently continuing on his rounds. At the top of the stairs Zeke looked back to be sure no one was observing him, then opened the door to the projection room and went inside, pulling on a pair of latex surgical gloves. There was no lock on the door, so Zeke braced a chair under the doorknob. First, he emptied his pockets, shucked off the army uniform, and wrapped it into a ball, tying the shirtsleeves in a knot. Then he put the pocket contents into his black trousers, switched on a small flashlight, and, holding it in his mouth, took his Swiss Army knife and began unscrewing the grille over the air-conditioning duct. He removed the briefcase containing the rifle, then shoved the bundled army uniform into the duct and replaced the grille.
Will listened patiently as Efton made his three-minute speech. The first two minutes were bland enough; then Efton changed tack. “As you may have heard, the governor of Georgia last night felt he had to commute the death sentence of a murderer and rapist, because the man’s lawyer had given him an incompetent defense. That lawyer was none other than Will Lee, and I think he should explain to us tonight why his incompetence as a lawyer allowed a killer to escape the death penalty, and why we should expect him to be any more competent as president.”