“I know from Will’s experience at conventions that after our arrival and throughout our stay there will be people who will wish to talk with me who I will wish not to talk with — not because I don’t like or respect them, but because their messages will sometimes be so important that they are better conveyed through intermediaries. Sometimes my messages to them will fall into the same category. Do you understand?”
“Of course. It’s one of the principal reasons why people have attorneys.”
“Exactly. On these occasions I will not want a campaign or staff member to act as intermediary. That would add a political edge to conversations that might be better conducted in a more civilian manner. That’s why I would like you to represent me on these occasions.”
“I would be very pleased to help in any way I can,” Stone replied.
“Sometimes you may receive messages, at other times you may send them — sometimes both.”
“I understand.”
“I will always try to alert you when a call will be coming, but I won’t always be able to. If someone calls you, that means he very likely got your number from me, so don’t blow him off — at least, not immediately.”
Stone nodded. “So if someone calls me and asks if you would accept the vice presidential nomination...”
“Let’s hope it will be me offering it to someone else. But I hear there are other things brewing that may not surface for a few days, so be on the qui vive.”
“I haven’t heard that expression for decades.”
“Now you’re making me feel old.”
“Never.”
“You haven’t met my chief of staff, Alicia Carey, have you? She works out of my Washington office.”
“I believe I may have shaken her hand on a visit to the White House.”
“Of course you would have. I hope you will have an opportunity to get to know her this week. When Alicia speaks, she speaks for me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I hope you and Will can come to dinner at my house — maybe tomorrow evening?”
“We’d both like that, but let me clear it with him.”
“And, by all means, bring Alicia and whoever she’d like to bring. We’ll do a buffet by the pool.”
“That sounds lovely. Oh, my ears just popped, we must be descending into Van Nuys.”
Molly came over. “I’ve just had a message — the president has landed at Van Nuys and will wait for you there. We’re twelve minutes out.”
“Thank you, Molly, that’s good. One caravan is enough.”
Stone noticed that the airplane never turned until it lined up on Runway 34 left. This was the way to travel. They touched down with a nearly imperceptible squeak of tires on pavement, and as they exited the runway, Stone saw the big 747, Air Force One, parked on the ramp, surrounded by people with weapons.
The Gulfstream came to a stop, the engines died, and the airstair door was opened. Kate was the first out of the airplane and into the arms of her husband.
“Hi, Stone,” the president said, offering his hand. “Thanks for giving a girl a lift.”
Stone shook his hand. “Hello, Mr. President. Thank Mike Freeman.”
“It was a wonderful flight,” Kate said to her husband. “Mike’s food is better than ours.”
A line of cars pulled up to the airplane and someone held open the door of the presidential limousine. The Lees got in. Ann kissed Stone goodbye. “See you later.”
“We’ve got your luggage,” he said.
She and Molly got into the car, following the president, and the procession moved away. Two Bentley Mulsannes from The Arrington moved into place and linemen loaded their luggage. Shortly, they were on their way.
Stone and Mike took one car, the Bacchettis the other.
“Thank you again for taking Kate,” Stone said to Mike.
“It was a pleasure having her on board.”
“I’ve asked them to dinner tomorrow night. And of course Ann and I would like you there, too.”
“Mind if I bring a date?”
“Why would I mind?”
“I was thinking of asking Charlene Joiner.” She was a big-time movie star who, many years before, had had a brief fling with Will Lee when he was a Senate staffer and still single.
“Ah, Mike,” Stone said, “Charlene’s presence near Will seems to put things a bit on edge. Do you know someone else?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks for understanding. Charlene always seems to have an ax to grind when she sees Will. For the longest time she was trying to get him to commute the sentence of her old boyfriend who was on death row for rape and murder.”
“And did she get it?”
“Yes, but not from Will. When he declined, she moved down a couple of rungs and got herself fixed up with the governor of Georgia, who was happy, after a night with her, to commute the sentence to life.”
“That sounds like Charlene,” Mike said.
They drove on toward The Arrington.
3
Security was already tighter than usual at the gate to The Arrington, and Stone, even though he was a major stockholder and board member, was not spared. The search of the cars was thorough.
The hotel was built on land that had been owned by Arrington’s first husband, the movie star Vance Calder, and his house had been incorporated into the guest-arrival center. As part of the lease of the land to the hotel corporation, Stone had negotiated the building of a new house for Arrington. Completed after her death, he had used it as his L.A. base since the hotel opened.
His car was met by the now elderly Manolo, who had been Vance Calder’s butler, and he oversaw the unloading and routing of luggage to the various rooms.
“Drinks in half an hour,” Stone said to everybody, and they went to freshen up.
When he had the opportunity, Manolo approached Stone. “A man from the Secret Service was here half an hour ago,” the Filipino said.
“Details?” Stone asked.
“He said he would return to brief you after the arrival of the president,” Manolo said.
Brief him? About what? Stone went upstairs to his bedroom and got into some casual clothes, then he went back downstairs. A man in a suit with a lapel button was waiting to see him.
“Mr. Barrington, I’m Special Agent Mervin Beam of the Secret Service. I’m in charge of the L.A. office.” They shook hands. “May I speak with you in private?”
Stone took the man into his study and they sat down. He didn’t bother offering the man a drink since he knew it would be declined. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“It arrived as an e-mail sent to me personally.” Beam took a sheet of paper from an inside pocket and handed it to Stone. “This is a copy.”
Stone read the message: At some time before the end of the Democratic convention, Katharine Rule Lee will die. We are patriots who have sworn to return the United States to a strict, constitutional republic, and we regard Mrs. Lee as a clear and present danger to her country, since she will slavishly support the criminal policies put into effect by William Jefferson Lee.
We have supporters in both houses of Congress and in the government bureaucracy, and even in the Secret Service, and we have the means and expertise to carry out our promises. We are quite willing to die in pursuit of our ideals, if that should become necessary.
There will be nothing you can do to stop us. It was signed, The Patriots.
“WHAT DO YOU make of this?” Stone asked.
“I’m no psychologist,” Beam said, “but I’ve seen a lot of this stuff over the years. The writer is probably an individual and there is probably no group involved. He exaggerates or, more likely, simply lies about his support in the Congress and the government.”