‘This is like a commando raid on our own cars,’ Robert said. ‘As long as I’ve been in public office I’ve never seen anything like this.’ Then he understood what he was really saying. ‘Of course, nobody ever thought I’d killed anybody before, either.’
Ben had brought all of Robert’s other clothes along so we were ready to go, out of the studio, down the short hall, down the long hall and to the back door. I was the one who peeked out. Dark, wintry air and a blast of camera light that hid the mob behind in shadow. They could have been anything, vampires or werewolves or creatures up from the bowels of the earth as in all those wonderful old late-night horror movies I cherished enough to never watch again. The most I could see of any of them was the way some of the camera light illuminated their eyes, which only enhanced the feeling of inhuman beings.
I looked back at them. ‘You ready?’
‘As we’ll ever be,’ Ben said.
I pushed the door open only wide enough for me to step through. If their words had been bullets I would have been in ragged pieces on the ground. They pushed, lurched, lunged and surrounded me. I raised both arms as if I was about to bestow a papal blessing. ‘My name is Dev Conrad. I’m here to see if all you sensitive, caring people will do Senator Logan the kindness of letting him get to his car and go back to his home. I can assure you that everything you want to hear him say you’ll hear in the ninety-second statement he made on tape just now inside Channel Four.’
‘Did he admit he killed her?’
‘Why would he do that? He had nothing to do with her death.’
‘Does he have any idea of who did kill her then?’
‘No.’
‘If he’s innocent why does he need a high-powered attorney like Ben Zuckerman?’
‘Is that supposed to be a serious question?’
‘Yes.’
‘He brought in Mr Zuckerman because before the police forensics team had even left the cabin where Ms Cabot’s body was found parts of the media — especially the TV media — had already found him guilty.’
‘Is there any truth to the rumors that he may resign?’
‘No.’
‘How is his family dealing with all this?’
‘How would any family deal with it?’
I didn’t have to look behind me to know that Ben had appeared. The group of thirty-plus with all their equipment started to lean in his direction as he ran toward his Buick. He was playing football again. Doing some broken field running and not looking back. But most of them stayed in place.
‘Was he having an affair with the Cabot woman?’
‘I don’t mean to be rude but these are the same questions you’ve been asking Mr Zuckerman. He was not having an affair with the Cabot woman.’
I watched Ben swing the Buick around behind the reporters and honk his horn. Robert came rushing out. They were on him like leeches. He did a football run, too. Far to their right and then straight on to the car. Ben had tracked him so that before they could stop him he was diving into the open door and Ben was screeching away before that door was closed.
In most circumstances, all this would have been funny. Everybody from the lowliest and most incompetent of TV writers to the great Federico Fellini had parodied the press trying to overwhelm and lynch its prey. But tonight it held no charm; no charm at all.
The ones who’d strayed returned to the coven so they could join in yelling at me. I answered a few more questions and then said, ‘I’m afraid that’s it for tonight, friends. Now you know as much as I do about the whole story.’
They didn’t believe me and kept shouting at me. I didn’t try an end run. I just started walking toward them and enough of them parted to let me continue my journey until I was clear of them. They stayed behind, a thundering herd, but I guess that by now they were as tired of it as I was. Bars and restaurants sounded much warmer and fuzzier than trying to browbeat a minor player into giving you something you knew he wasn’t going to give you anyway.
I got in my Jeep and gave it the gas before clipping on the headlights, turning on the heat and strapping on my seat belt. I just wanted to get away from here. I did all these things in the next few blocks. I headed by pure instinct toward the same kind of refuge the press sought. My hotel and its restaurant.
There was no escaping the reporters, of course. They were all over the lobby. For the most part these were the A-list boys and girls. Lesser lights would be on less generous expense accounts so would be staying where you had to do a lot of things for yourself, a constant reminder that you weren’t successful enough to deserve A-list treatment.
I thought about going up to my room first but was led by a cosmic force into the restaurant where I asked for a table for two. It was warm in here and the candlelight had a nurturing effect on me, and when I speed-dialed and got Jane a great good peace settled on me as soon as she said she’d join me within ten minutes. There’s a kind of loneliness that only comes with being on the road. Not so much in your twenties and thirties, maybe, but for me my forties were starting to make the road seem bleak and endless.
Jane seated herself with a smile and scents of woman, rain and, more faintly, perfume. The middle-aged waiter’s blue eyes very much approved of her looks.
I’d waited until she was here to order. We decided on Scotch and waters and mushrooms stuffed with lobster meat as appetizers.
‘Channel Four led with it,’ she said. ‘The senator really did well. I’m prejudiced on his behalf so I did my best to be objective. He looked good, he sounded sincere and what he said made sense.’
‘He told the truth. The one thing I expect the right to jump on is the reference to his “enemies.” People always have a problem with that. But in this case I’m pretty sure it’s true. There’s a group called The Alliance for Liberty. That’s the only point of contact we have. Tracy Cabot’s old man was involved with them. But they may not be part of this at all so that’s why we can’t talk about them publicly. There are secret groups working twenty-four/seven and they get bolder all the time. Bring down enough senators on our side and they can take over the government.’
‘That sounds like a science fiction movie.’
‘Something like it happened before.’
‘Really?’
‘You can Google it — ‘The White House Putsch.’ I read about it a few times before but I needed to read up on it again. A retired Marine Corps major general named Smedley Butler claimed that a secret group of millionaires and billionaires were plotting to take over a veterans’ organization — those organizations were powerful back in the thirties — to use as the leading edge of a coup d’état that would overthrow FDR and seize control of the federal government.’
‘Was that really true?’
‘Well, historians are still arguing about it. The consensus seems to be that the plot was true and that a number of very, very rich men were involved. The debate seems to be over how close they came to actually acting on the plot. It’s the same today. I don’t know if anybody could pull it off but maybe they’d try it. There are a lot of true believers with a lot of money. There’s one big problem.’
‘What?’
‘Now I sound like every conspiracy nut I’ve ever made fun of.’
The waiter appeared again and Jane ordered a large Caesar salad. I ordered the salmon.
After the waiter left, Jane said, ‘The idea of a coup is really scary. Most people wouldn’t think it was possible.’
‘There’s this movie I’ve seen a number of times where this actor named Kevin McCarthy is running down a road pounding on car windows and warning everyone that they’re coming.’
‘I love that movie. The first time I saw it I was eight. I was convinced that half the people I knew were pod people. I just wish it had a different title. You tell most people Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a great movie and they think you’re an idiot.’