After Carolyn left his office. Mark shut off the tape recorder Edmund had built into his desk. He opened the pencil drawer and popped out the tape. He twirled it between his fingers, and sat for a moment, considering his options. He knew that Edmund would want to hear what Carolyn planned. But it wouldn’t hurt to inform Warner, to prove his allegiance to the candidate himself, and build some loyalty, Mark thought, as he dialed the phone.

Warner’s secretary put the call through

“Hi. Mark. How are you?”

“Fine. Warner, fine. But this isn’t a social call, it’s about Carolyn.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“I could have called Edmund, but I felt you had a right to know firsthand. Carolyn asked me to hire Cain to investigate your primary opponents. She’s going to focus on Richard.”

“Don’t worry. Young and I have discussed it. We’ve got Cain set up to handle her inquiries.”

“Good, but that’s not why I called. She’s had her assistant, Katherine Seals, pull up your financial accounts.”

Warner chuckled. “Edmund and I figured she might snoop around. Most of my assets have been taken out of my name, so relax. She can’t link me financially to Edmund anymore, so I doubt she found much of anything worth worrying about.”

“No, she didn’t. I just thought I’d better warn you.”

“Thanks, buddy. I won’t forget you for this. Loyalty like yours is hard to find. When I get to the White House, I’m taking you with me. In the meantime, let Carolyn do what she wants. We can take care of her.”

Mark hung up, satisfied with the outcome of the conversation. When Warner won, a Cabinet post would be his.

It bothered him that Carolyn might end up a casualty, but not enough to tell her the truth. Turnabout was fair play, he rationalized. She seemed to have no qualms about using him to forward her agenda.

She assumed he was a pushover, a docile man she could cajole and manipulate into doing her bidding. These were dangerous assumptions, Mark thought. Especially after she’d brushed him off as if nothing had ever happened between them, coldly rejecting his love. Now, her rejection and arrogance would cost her. And cost her dearly.

Carolyn stopped in the kitchenette and made herself a cup of tea before going on to her old office. The desk once occupied by her assistant, Katherine, sat vacant. Carolyn stepped past it and into her former domain. She sat down behind her desk. Although it felt good to be back, this office represented her past – a past she had no desire to revisit.

She turned her attention back to the campaign, and pulled a legal pad from her top desk drawer.

President Washman and Vice President Dexter would be dealt with later. For now, she needed to focus on the primaries.

Her biggest concern remained Senator Richard Young. What puzzled her was Warner’s relaxed attitude about the man. Young was, by far, the most serious potential presidential candidate aside from Warner.

His Boy Scout public image, however, frustrated her. She grasped the mug of steaming tea and held it between her two hands, taking tiny sips.

Other than a weakness for women, Young’s only other vulnerability was his devotion to his children. While this genuine love for his family aided him with the voters, she sensed that it might be the key to slowing down his momentum. Carolyn pondered the possibilities and concluded that, whatever it took, they would give Richard Young the fight of his political life.

She considered their other adversaries. Martin Gaston from New Hampshire and Frank Landon were both contenders. She’d heard rumors that Bradley Davis of California was on the verge of declaring, but she knew he’d be an easy target. Nebraska Senator David Taylor posed a more viable threat.

Carolyn decided to concentrate her energy on Taylor ’s personal past. He had to have ghosts, she concluded. Ghosts that the voters needed to be aware of when deciding the country’s leadership.

She had met Taylor once. He was an eloquent, charismatic speaker and his record included a Medal of Honor in the Vietnam War. He could be legitimately touted as a war hero. Compared to Taylor ’s record, Warner’s lackluster military career became a liability. She tapped the pencil against the bridge of her nose.

Her glance fell on the stack of mail in her basket that had yet to be forwarded on to her home. Carolyn set aside her pencil and flipped through the stacks of solicitations, letters and periodicals. Most of it was junk. She picked up the most recent issue of Today and began leafing through it.

“Just what we need right now.” she muttered as she read the bold-print header of the article

Allergy Claim Keeps Lane from Combat

Duty

Senator Warner Hamilton Lane, a rising star in politics, appears to have made a miraculous recovery from his severe allergies, the malady that kept him out of combat during the Vietnam War.

Carolyn skimmed the text.

Medical records, from Lane’s personal physician, claim that his condition worsened during the war, forcing him to maintain a desk post in Hawaii. Remarkably, however, the allergies seem to have disappeared. In medical records released by the Senator himself, during his last campaign, he was given a clean bill of health and no mention was made of the severe sensitivity.

Carolyn turned the page, finding the byline – by Jack Rudly.

How in the world had Rudly acquired confidential medical and military records? Carolyn wondered. This was typical of his silent, but deadly, attack style. Like a shark, he came out of nowhere, his prey clenched between his jaws.

Carolyn checked the date. No wonder, she thought, the conversation between Nick and Jack had been so intense. Nick must have known about this article. She snatched up the phone, her fingers shaking as she dialed.

“Nick, why didn’t you tell me about Rudly’s article?” She didn’t wait for his response. “Nothing, and I mean – nothing – goes on in this campaign without my knowledge. I thought you understood that. Now, please find out how Rudly got his information, then shut it down. We’ve got friends at that magazine – call them.”

“ Edmund Lane called me about this,” Nick said. “He told me he and Warner had handled it.”

“Say that again,” she instructed ever so softly.

“Edmund said he’d handle it because he was afraid he’d caused the problem for Warner. Since they obviously have some pull with the magazine, they assured me it would never happen again.”

“Nick, I want to make something very clear to you. Edmund Lane is not part of this campaign.” Her voice trembled with barely suppressed anger.

“Not according to Warner. I’m sure you can appreciate my position.”

Carolyn reined in her rage. “I repeat: nothing goes on without my knowledge.”

“I understand, but I think you should know that Edmund is worried about Young’s position. We discussed the situation and agreed that something has to be done. And soon. He feels that Warner’s friendship is clouding his judgment. I tend to agree with him. As it stands now, we can’t beat the guy.”

“Nick, you’re not listening to me. If you don’t do as I ask, then I’ll have to make other arrangements. Do you understand me now?” she asked, aware that he’d never been terminated from a professional position.

Nick said nothing for a long moment.

Carolyn remained silent, although she felt like screaming.

“I understand, Carolyn. I just don’t think Edmund’s clear on it.”

Carolyn severed the connection. Did she dare question Warner about Edmund? No, she thought, let them have their little secret. Fighting with them was the last thing she needed right now, but forewarned was forearmed. She had to remain focused on the campaign – a united front.