Tim Coleman walked in. “Senator, we’ve got a little problem,” he said.
“How little?”
“I’m not sure. Charlene Joiner is standing at the bottom of the boarding steps, and she insists on seeing you.”
Will winced. “Tell the Secret Service to shoot her.”
“I’d like nothing better, but I think you’ll have to let her on board.”
“And let her be photographed here?”
“She’s already been photographed,” Tim said.
“There’s the usual media greeting party outside; she’s chatting them up and getting interviewed now.”
Will thought for a moment. “All right, get all the traveling press off the airplane, then show her into the office area. After three minutes, interrupt us with the greatest possible urgency, and get me off the airplane. Tell the crew to keep her on until we’ve driven away and the press has followed us.”
“Got it,” Tim replied, then left.
Will was tying his necktie when Charlene arrived, so she was unable to embrace him. She looked sensational in a tailored suit that still managed to show a considerable amount of creamy cleavage. “Hi, there,” Will said. “What brings you to Van Nuys? It’s a long way from Malibu.”
“Will, I’ve got to talk to you,” she said, leaning against a desk and giving him a better view of the cleavage.
“Better hurry; I’ve got to be out of here in just a minute. I’ve got sixteen campaign stops in the L.A. area before noon tomorrow, and I have to be back in Washington for the debate tomorrow night.”
“It’s about Larry Moody.”
He’d thought it would be. “Oh?”
“His appeal has been turned down by the Supreme Court.”
“Oh? They didn’t think I was incompetent?”
“Apparently not. Now Larry’s only hope of living is a commutation of his death sentence to life by the governor of Georgia.”
“Hmmm,” Will said.
“I’ve got a plan to get the governor to change his mind,” Charlene said, “but I need your help.”
“Charlene,” Will said, getting into his jacket, “Bill Mackey is a Republican; I have zero influence with him.”
“Just call him, Will; it might help.”
Charlene, if I get elected, Bill Mackey is going to take the greatest delight in appointing someone I despise to my Senate seat, possibly even himself. He and I have absolutely nothing to say to each other.”
Charlene put her hands on her knees and pushed her shoulders forward, turning what had been cleavage into an inspiring view of her breasts. “Will, I read that there’s a bed on this airplane; any truth to that?” She kept her chin down and raised her eyes to his, evoking in Will a memory of a photograph of Grace Kelly with John F. Kennedy many years before.
“Ah, now.” Will laughed. “
That
could work.”
“Huh?”
“That look, that angle on the boobs, that invitation. Bill Mackey reputedly has a Clintonesque weakness for women, and he’s not accustomed to encountering many as beautiful as you. That’s your best shot, Charlene, believe me.”
Tim Coleman burst into the office. “Senator, you’ve got to leave right now! The Secret Service say there’s some sort of threat against you!”
“Good God!” Will said. “I’m sorry, Charlene, but I have to go. You stay aboard the airplane until we’re gone, and the crew says it’s okay to leave; I don’t want you to get shot at. Bye.” He sprinted up the aisle, and Tim closed in behind him, leaving Charlene staring after them.
Will dived into the car. “Very good, Tim,” he said. “Or was there really a threat?”
“The threat is still on the airplane,” Tim said as the motorcade sped away.
THE VIEW FROM HERE
by Hogan Parks
It’s been one hell of a run. Not since the Nixon-Humphrey contest in ’68 has a presidential race been so tight. As we come down to the final of the three campaign debates (well, two and a half) tonight, Howard “Eft” Efton still seems to have a razor-thin margin, but it could go either way.
My sources in both campaigns agree that the race is going to be won or lost in Illinois and California. For some weeks it has been clear to pollsters that either state could give Efton the margin of victory, while Lee would need to win both, but since Efton stumbled by pulling out of the Chicago debate, and Lee so masterfully capitalized on his nonappearance, Illinois seems to have shifted narrowly in Lee’s favor. Which means that California, with its fifty-four electoral votes, is now the 400-pound gorilla in this race.
If any further evidence of that fact were necessary,
one need only look at the campaign schedules of the two opponents. Neither has drawn a breath outside California for the past four days.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this race is how Eft Efton, at a time when the Democrats seem likely to win at least the House, and maybe the Senate, has managed to run so strongly nationally. He has done it by seeming less a Republican than a centrist independent, co-opting Democratic positions wherever he could and downplaying the traditional Republican rhetoric on tax cuts and abortion.
Efton has touted a plan to save Social Security that is almost indistinguishable from one proposed by the Democrats more than a year ago; he has rejected an across-the-board tax cut and opted, instead, for targeted reductions, mostly to the middle class; he’s come out for new expenditures on education, although he wants school districts to spend it as they see fit, instead of being made to use the money to build and repair schools. And, most un-Eft-like, he has restrained himself from personal attacks on Lee and, especially, on Lee’s wife, an important CIA official, something voters seem to appreciate.
Lee, whose political positions have often been undercut by Efton’s sidestep toward the center, has chosen to campaign almost as though Efton didn’t exist, touting his New Center as the way to go for the 21st century and ignoring Efton’s attempts to join him in the middle of the road. Lee’s great strength has been his personal charm, which, although it falls short of the kind of animal magnetism Bill Clinton projected, has done much to make him stick in the minds of voters. He has also proved an agile wiggler. When some right-wing Republicans tried to hang movie diva Charlene Joiner around his neck like a latter-day Gennifer Flowers, he managed to tap-dance his way
around their insinuations by the simple device of being innocent of the charges, except for a single dalliance when they were both single. I’m told there is even some polling evidence to indicate that white males’ opinion of Lee was lifted by the fact that he once slept with someone who is now a movie star.
All of which brings us back to Ford’s Theatre tonight and the debate that Lee supporters hope will give him the final push he needs, especially in California, to edge past Efton and into the presidency. Look for Efton to give us more of the same, and for Lee, perhaps, to inject some fireworks into the proceedings. And look for both to offer some special incentives for California voters.
Kitty put down the
Washington Post.
“Well, that’s depressingly close to the truth, isn’t it?”
“We can always rely on Hogan Parks to state the obvious, can’t we?” Will sighed. “Now let’s get back to work on these debating points. We either blow Eft out of the water tonight, or we sink trying.”
Charlene Joiner got off the Centurion Studios G-V jet at Atlanta’s DeKalb Peachtree airport, and, unspotted by the press, got into a waiting limousine. “Take me to the governor’s mansion,” she said to the driver.
Zeke prepared carefully. First, he dressed in civilian clothing and went out and bought a car, a late-model Toyota Camry, metallic beige in color, using another well-prepared identity. He parked it near Ford’s Theatre, then took a taxi back to his hotel. He showered, shaved, and packed, then went over the hotel room, wiping every surface with window cleaner, after which he dressed in a pair of lightweight black trousers and a long-sleeved, navy blue T-shirt. Over that he put on the freshly pressed first-class army uniform, with its ribbons, insignia, and name tag. Finally, he packed all the uniforms into a single B-4 bag and his civilian clothes in another bag, then checked out of the hotel, mentioning to the desk clerk that he had a plane to catch at Reagan National.
He drove to Ford’s Theatre and parked the Taurus in a parking lot nearby. Leaving the bag containing the uniforms in the trunk, he walked to the new Toyota and put his civilian clothes into that car’s trunk. Fi
nally, with everything ready and half an hour to spare, he walked to Ford’s Theatre and got into the ticket holders’ line. Secret Service agents were everywhere, watching everything. They walked down the line of waiting people and cut several people out of the group for a chat, checking tickets and IDs. A deranged-looking man was taken away in a car. Zeke noticed that the people getting the most attention from the agents were unaccompanied men, but when they came to him, the agents simply nodded and went on. The uniform worked.
At twenty minutes before the hour the doors were opened and the crowd admitted. Zeke immediately made for the stairs to the balcony and found a seat on an aisle, only a few steps from the staircase to the men’s room and the projection booth. Now he had only to wait.
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.
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.