Grass Roots (12 page)

“Oh, well, me and the Senator was watching the Governor on TV, and I think the Senator must’ve got mad, ‘cause that pencil was still in his hand, and he started moving it around on the paper. You could tell he was really struggling with it.”

“And he wrote something?”

“Yes sir, he did,” Jasper said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and holding it back when Will tried to take it.

“He wrote something, and Miss. Emmy took it all wrong, I think. I think he wrote it to you.” Finally, having said his piece, Jasper surrendered the paper to Will.

Will unfolded it and looked at what the Senator had written. At first, it wasn’t clear; it was nothing like the Senator’s handwriting. But after a moment. Will realized what the scrawl said. He stopped outside the Senator’s door. There were two words on the paper, written in uneven, poorly drawn capital letters. Together, they made a message that rocked Will when he read it.

The words were: will run.

Will stared at the message, reading it over and over, to be sure he was not mistaken. He leaned against the door and took a few deep breaths, then he turned and walked into the Senator’s room.

The Senator was awake, sitting up, supported by the elevated hospital bed. Will pulled up a chair and took the old man’s hand. His face was still soft and featureless, but his eyes burned brightly.

“Hello, Senator,” Will said.

“I hear you’re feeling better.”

The hand squeezed Will’s softly. It was no mere muscle spasm.

“Senator,” Will said, “I want to ask you something.

Try and squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no.

Can you do that?”

The hand squeezed once.

“Good.” Will grinned. He held up the piece of paper.

“Did you manage to write this yesterday?”

The hand squeezed once.

“That’s wonderful!” Will said.

“You’re going to’re cover! You’ll be back with us in Washington before you know it.”

The hand squeezed twice, emphatically.

“Senator,” Will said, “in this note, did you mean you wanted to run again?”

Two squeezes. No mistaking.

Will took a deep breath. He didn’t want to ask the next question.

Finally, he asked, “Did you mean you want me to run?”

Will was astonished at the firmness of the grip. One squeeze. Just one. Hard. The Senator stared at Will and held tightly onto his hand.

leah Pearl sat and knitted and, occasionally, glanced at her husband.

She had been knitting for most of the day, rising only to have a bite to eat and go to the bathroom. She had been sitting there every day since Manny Pearl was shot.

Leah smiled, remembering what Manny liked to say about her knitting.

“It gives her something to think about while she talks.” Manny had always been funny, since the day she first met him, nearly forty years before, when she had been selling tickets at the Fox Theater, and Manny had been an usher. They had been married before a month had passed, and Leah had never regretted a moment of it.

Oh, a lot of people would have thought Manny unreliable, what with all the businesses he’d been in novelties, costume rentals, ladies’ sexy underwear, marital aids, and now the nightclub business. What people never seemed to understand was that Manny had made money at them all;

he had only changed businesses when he got bored. Manny was steady, in his way. He’d been a good father strict, the best schools for the boys; he’d been a good husband, an honorable man religious, even, although he only went to synagogue on the holidays. Still, he’d given and given to the congregation and to Israel. A good man. She’d never minded about the girls. Men had to have them, she believed and as long as she didn’t know the details, she didn’t mind. She knew he didn’t have to work as late as he said he did, but she didn’t mind. Manny enjoyed, and it was all right with her.

She glanced at Manny and saw that his arm was dangling from the bed.

Alarmed, she went and checked his pulse. Still there, still steady. It had been steady since the third day, when they had taken him off the respirator. Tenderly, she passed a hand over the bandages that swathed most of his head above the nose. Satisfied, she tucked his arm under the covers and went back to her chair and her knitting. A moment later, for the first time since Christmas Eve, her husband moved in his bed.

“Putz!” Manny said suddenly.

Lean dropped her knitting and ran to the bedside.

Manny was staring at the ceiling.

“Gonif!” he yelled.

“Shmuck!” “Now, dear,” she said, breathing hard and reaching for the call button! “just lie quietly, and the doctor will be here in a minute.” She hoped he’d mind his language when the doctor came.

A nurse, blond and pretty, put her head inside the door.

“What is it, Mrs. Pearl?”

“He’s awake!” Leah stammered.

“Get the doctor!”

The nurse walked over to the bed, took Manny’s bandaged face in her hands and checked his pupils.

“Can you hear me, Mr. Pearl?” she said loudly.

“Of course I can hear you, sugar,” Manny said, smiling.

“You should be in show business, you know. You want a job?”

“Manny!” Leah said.

“Watch your mouth!”

The nurse left the room, and Manny turned to her.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He looked around him and frowned.

“They killed those three boys, didn’t they? I saw them do it.” “Yes, Manny,” Leah said.

“But they didn’t kill you.”

“Damned right, they didn’t. The putz! He didn’t have to do it! They could have had everything! I even offered them the car!” He looked at her.

“Did they take the car?”

“No, Manny. It’s home in the garage. Not a scratch on it.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Manny said.

A young doctor appeared and began examining Manny.

He held up his hand.

“How many fingers, Mr. Pearl?”

“Two,” Manny replied.

“It was that fucking preacher that was behind it,” he said.

“Manny, watch your language!” Leah commanded.

“Follow my finger,” the doctor said, moving his hand back and forth in front of Manny’s face.

“I’m sorry, Leah,” Manny said.

“I apologize for my language. Doctor.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Pearl. I’m glad to hear you talking.”

Manny looked at him narrowly.

“How old are you?” he demanded.

“Why do you want to know that?” the doctor asked.

“How long you been a doctor?”

The doctor laughed.

“Long enough to know that you’re an amazing medical phenomenon. You want somebody with a little gray at the temples; is that it?” “I don’t trust young,” Manny said.

“Get me old.”

“Not a gray hair around, I’m afraid. I’ll have to do until the real thing comes along. Now, I want you just to lie quietly. I’m going to order some more X rays and I want a neurologist to see you. I warn you, though, he’s pretty young, too.”

“Never mind X rays,” Manny said.

“Mr. Pearl, you’ve been shot twice, and you’ve had a lot of surgery.”

“I have? Am I all right?”

“That’s what I want to find out—just how all right you are.”

“Okay, do your worst,” Manny said.

“But first, I want a cop.”

“A cop?”

“Lots of cops. I got a lot to say. I’m not seeing this neurologist guy until I’ve seen a cop. Tell them to put the siren on. I got a lot to tell them.”

the detective sergeant looked up from his notebook.

“Is there anything else, Mr. Pearl?”

“The tall one with the barn-door ears and the nose, he shouldn’t be too hard to find. Nobody else could look like that.”

“We’ll get his description on the wire right away.”

“I think he’s military,” Manny said.

“I was in the army;

I think he was, too. Or maybe the Marines.”

“What about him makes you say that?” the detective asked.

“Everything about him. The way he stood, the way he gave orders.

Retired, maybe. You know how they join young, get out after twenty years or something? Like that.”

“Well, we can check with the Pentagon, but do you have any idea how many retired military people there are in Georgia?”

“Not an officer, though. A noncom,” Manny said.

“A master sergeant, I’ll give you odds. You know what pricks sergeants are.”

“Manny!” Leah blurted.

“Sorry, Sergeant,” Manny said sheepishly.

“I meant army, not cops.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Pearl,” the sergeant said.

“I was in the army, too. I know about sergeants.”

“Do you know about TV preachers?” Manny asked.

“Now, listen, Mr. Pearl,” the detective said seriously.

“I wouldn’t go around saying that, if I were you.

Granted, Calhoun had some pickets from his church at your store, but that doesn’t connect him with what happened.

A lot of people in this town think Calhoun is some kind of saint. My mother is among them, although I think she’s nuts. She’s been sending part of her Social Security check to that guy. It burns me up.”

A doctor who was leaning against the wall of the room spoke up.

“If that’s about it. Sergeant, I’d like to see if Mr. Pearl can wiggle his fingers and toes.”

“I’ll tell you something. Doctor,” the sergeant said, “I wouldn’t want to arm-wrestle Mr. Pearl for money right now.” He turned to his partner.

“Let’s get out of here and let Mr. Pearl wear out this doctor.” “Okay, Doc,” Manny said, “you’re next. Let’s get on with it.” it was after midnight when Will got back to Georgetown, and he was exhausted. He started for his own house, but ended up at Kate’s. He let himself into the house, tapping the burglar-alarm code into a keypad and ringing the doorbell three times to alert her. There was a 9-mm automatic pistol in her beside-table drawer, and he didn’t want any accidents.

“What’s up?” she asked sleepily, moving over to let him under the covers.

“A lot,” he said, climbing in beside her. He told her about the Senator’s new note-writing skills.

She listened in silence, now fully awake, and when he had finished she still didn’t say anything.

“You see where I am,” he said finally.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” she replied.

“You’re going to run, aren’t you? In spite of our deal.” “Yes,” Will said.

“I don’t have any other choice. It’s the mirror image of the way things were last week. Then, I couldn’t run, because I thought I would hurt him. Now, I have to run, and for exactly the same reason.”

“I know,” she said.

“You know, a couple of weeks ago, everything was in such good shape. We both had what we wanted—me, the Senator’s support against Barnett; you, the new job at the Agency.”

“And we both had a plan to marry,” she said.

“Yes. And now everything has changed, been moved up, and we both have commitments to others.”

“Yes. Commitments we both have to keep,” she said quietly.

“You can’t do this with me, can you?” he asked.

“You know I can’t. I’m already up to my neck. Two people took early retirement when they didn’t get the job.

I could never live with myself if I walked out now.”

“And I could never live with myself if I didn’t run now.”

She snuggled close and put her head on his shoulder.

“I wish I could go down there with you and do my part.”

He put an arm around her and turned to face her.

“So do I. But I understand why you can’t. Really, I do.”

“We can keep on the way we are, can’t we?” she whispered.

“Sure we can,” he whispered back, but he wasn’t sure.

“I won’t be able to get up here much between now and election day,” he said.

“I won’t be able to come down there,” she said.

“Or even meet you anywhere. I’m at a new level in the Agency;

I have access to a lot more information than I did before.

They’ll put me through a new security-clearance investigation, and I’ll have to turn in an accurate log every time I travel no exceptions. You can see that it’s more important than ever that we keep our relationship quiet; the slightest thing in the papers might make my position at the Agency untenable. You can see that, can’t you?”

“Yes, I can.” He hugged her.

“You’re just going to have to remain the best-kept secret in town.”

They lay in each other’s arms until they fell asleep. Neither of them made any move to make love. will sat in his small office, filling the pages of a legal pad. It was just after eight, and he had been at it for an hour. He heard footsteps in the common room, and Jack Buchanan put his head into the office.

“Come on in. Jack,” Will said.

“I’m glad you’re in early; I need to talk with you.” Jack arranged his long frame in the only other chair in Will’s office. Will looked at him. He had brought Jack Buchanan onto the staff, stolen him from the office of a Massachusetts congressman, where he had been languishing as an assistant. Will had met him while doing committee work and had been impressed with his easy manner and bright mind. Will had been best man at Jack’s wedding four years before and was godfather to the elder of his two daughters. Jack had been resented by some of the Georgians at first, a Yankee on a mostly Southern staff, but he had won them over quickly. It was Jack whom Will had planned to recommend for his own job when he eventually left the Senator’s staff.

“Jack,” Will said, “I wanted to talk to you before I talked with anybody else.” He paused. He had made this decision, but he was still uncomfortable with it. Things were happening too fast. He explained to Buchanan what had occurred at the Senator’s house.

“I’m going to run for his seat. Jack. I had planned to run against Barnett next time, but now it can’t wait. I’m satisfied it’s what the Senator wants, too.”

Jack was grinning.

“That’s terrific news. Will. I’m glad for you. I’ll miss you around here, though.”

“Thanks, Jack, but”

“I’ll hold the office together, though. You can count on it.”

“Jack, I don’t want you to hold the office together. I want Ed to do that.” Ed Tanner was the Senator’s press secretary.

Jack’s face fell.

“I see. Well, whatever you want…”