Prophet (57 page)

And then there was the matter of the invisible, subtle string attached to her education. No one mentioned this string, or rather this leash, when she was awarded the scholarship, but she hadn’t asked about it either. The agreement was made without a word spoken, and now it was there, attached to the money and to her, a choke collar that tightened every once in a while and had just about gagged her to death when Channel 6 called.

She was imprisoned in a cage with a horrible secret—gagged and unable to scream.

The phone rang again. It was 10:45. Who would be calling at this hour?

“Hello?”

“Hello, Shannon. This is Martin Devin. How are you?”

The leash! The choke collar! She always felt it whenever Martin Devin called to extend his best wishes and see how she was doing—to pry, in other words. Tonight, especially since that call from Channel 6, she could feel his loop around her neck as she’d never felt it before—teasing her, yanking her, continually keeping her in line. This was going to be another little session with her keeper and trainer, Martin Devin. He would crack the whip and toss her treats, and she would do her tricks.

Or would she?

“Shannon? Hello?”

She fumbled, her mind disoriented, distracted by a new defiance that surprised her. Tonight, this time, she didn’t feel the usual intimidation. Instead she felt anger.

Finally she replied, “Hello.”

“Sorry to be calling so late. I’ve been trying to get through to you, but the phone’s been busy.” He was asking what she’d been doing on the phone; he was hinting to know whom she’d been talking to.

“Uh-huh” was all she said.

“I suppose you were having a nice visit with someone, right?” That was no hint; that was a nosy question.

None of your business, creep!
“A friend.”

“Mm-hm.” Then an abrupt leap into easy, friendly territory. This guy could switch into social gear so easily it was disgusting. “So how are the studies going?”

“Just fine.”

“Well, that’s good. We’re all rooting for you.”

“So I’d like to hear from the governor sometime.” It was her way of saying, I’m sick of hearing from you. She’d not heard from Governor Slater since his grand media performance in awarding her the scholarship, but she had heard from Martin Devin more than she’d heard from her own parents.

“Well,” said Devin, “the governor’s been really busy with his campaign. But I’ll pass the word along that you’d like to have a call from
him.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“So, Shannon, I won’t keep you long, but I do have some very important matters to discuss.”

She didn’t acknowledge the statement but remained silent.
Let him do the talking
, she thought.
He made the call—let him carry the conversation.

He carried it. “Shannon, have you gotten any calls from the media? Anyone calling to ask questions?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” She wasn’t ashamed of it.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Marty!

Devin sounded alarmed. “You have talked to the media?”

“Not really. But I got a call just now, right before you called.”

He got confrontive. “Was that the . . . uh . . . friend you told me you were talking to?”

“Yeah.”

“Who was it?”

“Somebody from Channel 6.” She couldn’t hear it clearly, but she knew he was swearing to himself. “They called because they wanted to do a follow-up story on me, something about the first recipient of the Hillary Slater scholarship.”

His voice was strained. “Do you remember the name of the reporter?”

“Uh . . . Leslie something.”

“Leslie Albright?”

“Yeah, that was it.”

This time she could hear his swearing distinctly.

“What about John Barrett? Did you talk to him?”

“No. Just Leslie.”

“So what did you say to her?”

“I told her I couldn’t talk about it.”

“You did? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“So . . . you didn’t answer any of her questions?”

“Hey . . .” She actually laughed a little. “You sound really paranoid, you know that?”

Devin didn’t laugh. He sounded nervous, upset. “Well . . . Shannon,
I’m sorry to have to put this kind of a burden on you, but you have to realize this is the governor’s family, his own private matter, and now it’s an election year, he’s out campaigning, and there are people in the media who would really jump at the chance to destroy him, to dig something up that would hurt him. You understand that, don’t you?”

Shannon was understanding it more and more, even as she heard Devin fuss and squirm. “I think I understand.”

“So . . . I’m very glad you didn’t say anything to them, and I know the governor will greatly appreciate that. But I should warn you, they may call you again, and if they do, please don’t talk to them. I really need to have your word on this, that you won’t discuss Hillary’s death with anyone.”

Shannon could feel that leash; she could feel this guy trying to control her life. She was amazed at her courage even as she asked, “Mr. Devin, what if I do talk to them? What will happen?”

Devin didn’t answer right away. Apparently he was taken aback by the directness of her question. “Shannon . . . really, you have to believe me, that would not be a wise thing to do. It would hurt some people. It would be a betrayal of a sacred trust.”

So now he was trying the old guilt trip! The governor had used that one on her in the very beginning! “Mr. Devin . . .” Oh no, now her emotions were choking her. The last thing she wanted to do was cry! “I don’t think you care how
I
feel. I don’t think it even occurs to you.”

He switched into a sympathy mode. “Oh, Shannon, of course I do. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. We’re trying to protect you as well. We don’t want the media prying into your life either.”

“Mr. Devin . . .” She’d never thought about this before, but right now, at this moment, it seemed like a marvelous idea. “Mr. Devin, I’m considering withdrawing from classes and coming home. I could just give you back the money. I’ll work for a while and just go to school there.”

That alarmed him. “Shannon, now wait. You’re just upset.”

“You’d better believe I’m upset!” Now she really was crying, but the release felt wonderful. She’d been saving up for this a long time. “You and the governor never cared about me in the first place! You just wanted me out of the way!”

“Shannon, now that’s not true, and you know it!”

“Then why is it you’re the only one who ever calls me?”

“Shannon, I told you, the governor is busy, so I call on his behalf.”

“Then why is it every time you call it’s always about the same thing: ‘Are you all right, Shannon? Are you getting over it, Shannon? You haven’t told anybody, have you, Shannon?’”

Now he was really getting flustered. Even through the flood of her emotions, Shannon could tell she’d hit the right nerve.

“Shannon, now . . . you know that isn’t true! We’re thinking of you and your future. That’s what the scholarship was all about.”

“You’re thinking of you and the governor and the election—that’s what you’re thinking about! I don’t think you even cared about Hillary! I know the governor never did!”

Oh-oh. Devin switched to stern parent mode. “Now hold on, young lady! That was uncalled for!”

She wasn’t intimidated by this guy anymore. He wasn’t her mother or her father, and besides that, he was far away, a little voice on the phone that she realized she hated. “Oh, is that so? Well, Hillary used to tell me about it—she used to cry about it, how she never even saw him, how he didn’t care about her, he was always gone, always doing his political thing. But now that she’s dead she’s important to him! Now that she’s dead he cares about her precious reputation!”

“Hillary . . .” he bumbled. “Shannon . . . it’s late, and you’re tired, and things are going to look a lot different in the morning. Why don’t you sleep on it, okay? We can talk again tomorrow. Give me a call, okay?”

“I don’t want to call you. I don’t want to talk to you . . . not ever again. I’m sick of talking to you.”

“Now, Shannon, you call me tomorrow, after you’ve had some time to think about things. We have a lot invested in you, and we don’t want to see you throw it all away.”

That was enough. That one little attempt at another guilt trip was just enough to spur Shannon on to new heights of courage. She slammed the phone in his face.

Then she wept, half from sorrow and pain and half from a new freedom and release. Before this moment she’d not realized how bound she was, how heavily weighted down.

MARTIN DEVIN DID
not sleep much that night. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, staring at the wall, turning this way and that, and having a long, furious conference with himself: agenda, second agenda, course of action, alternatives, information selection, presentation, first impression, second impression, arguments, counterarguments. He rehearsed conversations with the governor, babbling to himself under the sheets. He came to dead ends, pounded the mattress with his fist, and started over.

What could he say? What could he not say? How much did the governor really need to know? How much should he tell the governor in any case? Which information would be to his own advantage and which would not? What would the consequences be?

Well, he would have to say something. The last thing he needed was for the governor to find all this out from someone else.

One thought came across his mental desk more than once that night:
Barrett has the tape. I know he has the tape.

And that thought was always connected with another:
Your goose is cooked. Checkmate. You’ve had it. Cash in your chips—you’re out of the game.

Oh no
, was his reply.
Not me. I’m never out. Somebody else is going to fall, but it isn’t going to be me. I’ll find a way. Yes sir, I’ll find a way.

And he stayed awake most of the night trying to do just that.

ON A TV SCREEN:
Rosalind Kline, sexy, sultry actress from the TV sitcom
Who’s Got Problems?
, teases and cavorts with a handsome, hairy-chested man in a large, ornate bedroom. He embraces her. She teasingly begins to finger the top button of her blouse, and then, with a little laugh and a flip of her blonde tresses, she says in her breathy voice, “Oh, I can’t take this off. I’ll catch cold!”

“Cut!” says the director off-camera.

Another angle: We see the camera crew, the sound technicians, the lights of a TV soundstage. Rosalind and the male actor break character. She gives him a pat on the shoulder as he walks off the set and is handed a can of soft drink. Rosalind turns and walks toward us, away
from the bedroom set. Her name appears across the bottom of the screen: “Rosalind Kline, star of
Who’s Got Problems?
”

She looks directly at the camera and says in all seriousness, “There was a time when talented women like me were regarded as objects and playthings, but thanks to visionary people like Hiram Slater that was then and this is now. Women enjoy a new dignity and equality, and with important changes occurring every day in the workplace women are finding opportunities for personal growth and advancement not open to them only a few years ago. But much remains to be done, and that’s why I’m asking you to reelect Governor Hiram Slater. This is one man who cares about women.”

Cut to bold, Mount Rushmore-ish shot of Hiram Slater’s stern countenance and the slogan, “The New Dawn Lives On. Hiram Slater for Governor.”

Small letters across the bottom: “Paid for by the Committee to Reelect Governor Slater, Wilma Benthoff, Chairperson.”

Governor Hiram Slater backed away from the television set and clapped his hands in glee. “Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!” Then he quipped, “And the ad wasn’t bad either!”

He was in his office, his desk cluttered with some serious work to be done, but . . . well, he knew the ad would be running in between some of the soap operas, and he just had to see it—not just on video, but on the air, for real, the same way the public would be seeing it. The experience was downright thrilling. Rowen and Hartly, his PR men, were doing an exquisite job.