Lovers and Liars (51 page)

‘That’s what you call him, the MagusT

Stein ga%,e her a dry look. ‘It’s one of the terms. One of the re flattering ones, sure.’

Gini glanced back; S. S. Hawthorne lifted his head at that ment. Across the distance separating them he gave their table -hard, blue-eyed stare. Gini looked quickly away.

‘No reason,’ she said to Stein. ‘I was intrigued, that’s all. I’ve r!jd enough about him, I just never saw him before.’

wonder what the heck brought him to London.’ Stein had Wso averted his gaze from S. S. Hawthorne’s table. ‘These days

6 rare1v leaves that palace of his in upstate New York. At least, blat’s what I always heard.’

‘Maybe he’s here to play the proud paterfamilias. John Haw—

0horne’s the guest speaker, after all. It’s a pretty big ciccasion .

k, . `ThisT Stein gave a dismissive gesture. ‘Hawthorne makes three i’eeches a week at equally prestigious gatherings. This is no , p

Ilig deal for him. Anyway,’ he gave Gini a glance, ‘you watch.

Hawthorne’s -a good after-dinner speaker. He’ll have thern eating out of his hand.’

‘This audienceT Gini looked around her doubtfully. ‘So many journalists, so many media people? Not the easiest house to play.’

‘Wait and see.’ Stein paused while a waiter removed their first-course plates, and a second waiter moved between them to serve wine. He passed on around the table. Stein gestured to their wineglasses, and smiled. ‘Call me cynical if you like, but one thing I’ve always noticed about any dinner where Hawthorne has to make a speech - you get very good wine. And plenty of it. Far more than usual. Try that claret, and you’ll see what I mean.’

Gini did so. The claret was excellent. She smiled.

‘Oh, come on. John Hawthorne isn’t even the host tonight.’ ‘OK, you don’t believe me? Watch this.’ He picked up his claret glass. ‘At most of these dinners - this many people, the waiters under pressure - they put the bottles on the table, right? So the guests can serve themselves. The standard ratio for a table like this - eight people - is four bottles initially, if you’re very lucky, five.’ Gini looked at the bottles flanking the flower arrangement in the centre of the table. There were eight of them. ‘Now, watch this.’ Stein drank the claret in his glass. He put the glass back on the table, but made no move towards the bottles. ‘I give it thirty seconds/ he said in a dry way. ‘I made a study of this a few years ago, when I followed Hawthorne on the campaign trail. I’m thinking of publishing it.’ He smiled. ‘A time-and-motion study. How to win friends and influence people … Ah.’

The wine waiter had materialized at his side. He refilled Stein’s glass, and a couple of others at the table. He.replaced the empty bottle with a full one.

‘Right to the second/ Gini said.

‘There you are. Now you know one of the reasons why John Hawthorne’s speeches always go so well at these occasions. Attention to the tiny details.’ He shrugged. ‘But then that’s the mark of the man.’

‘So tell me,’ Gini said, ‘what’s John Hawthorne like on the campaign trail? Which of his campaigns did you coverT

‘Two. I covered his first senatorial campaign - that’s, what, around sixteen years ago. Then I covered his final one, when it looked like he’d be going for the Democratic candidacy in ninety-two. I put in the hours on the Learjet. And I can tell you

- his methods hadn’t changed. They’re impressive - and so is the

stamina. John Hawthorne can get by on three hours sleep a night

- I swear it. I was punch-drunk after three days’ of his schedule. JBut not him. Dawn at some god-forsaken airstrip someplace, and liawthome’s there, fresh as a daisy, with the aides and the lists all fired up and ready to go.’

Gini paused while the waiters served the second course. She -idanced at Stein. ‘Lists?’ she said.

“,-,Local worthies, factory officials, fund-raisers, women’s groups, workers, big wheels in the local police department … ‘Stein gged. ‘Whoever he’s meeting that day. They’re graded for by the aides. Level five get five minutes of his time, and-! An eve one only gets one minuteT

Stein laughed. ‘Sure, but a man like Hawthorne can do a whole t of work in that time. He can clinch a vote in thirty secds.- that’s what the aides liked to say. The right handshake, e right questions, little bursts of charm. Hawthorne’s always .efed and always primed.’

7 ‘So what kind of questions would those be? It can’t be that easy, ely … I

‘Listen,’ Stein said, ‘Hawthorne never meets anyone of any use him without knowing beforehand whether he’s met them be, how many kids they have, which football team they support, ther they have a dog or a cat, hell - what brand of cereal they e at breakfast, for all I know. It’s all printed out for him, by the es. Hawthorne has an incredible memory. Best I’ve ever seen. learns it on the way there, in the car or the plane. It works red-necks and bank presidents. The aides call it CTC .

ICTCT Channelling the charm.’

There was a brief silence. Gini considered this. She ate a little of food, which was excellent, and avoided the wine. Irrespective other events, she was beginning to see that she had been wrong ut her conversation with Hawthorne at Mary’s, and Pascal t. CTC, she thought, and I fell for it too.

Jason Stein had turned to talk to the woman on the other side of Nicholas Jenkins continued to cold-shoulder her. She did not this isolation, which at least gave her time to think. When

waiters removed their plates, and began to serve dessert, Jason turned back to her with a smile.

‘So, you have a particular reason to be interested in Hawthorne?’ asked.

o. No. Politicians interest me as a species, that’s all. I like to

work out how they operate, what makes them run.’ She paused, looking at Stein, whom she knew to be an excellent journalist, well-informed, smart. ‘You think he’s really given up on US politics now?’ she asked. ‘You think he’ll ever try for a comeback, further down the road?’

Stein shrugged. ‘Hard to say. A year ago, when he accepted the posting here, I thought he’d thrown in the towel. God alone knows why - I mean, it was way out of character. But recently, I’ve heard a rumour or two, just straws in the wind. Hawthorne always had very powerful backers, you know, in the Democratic Party and elsewhere. There’s a whole lot of very influential people, and pressure groups - and from what I hear, Hawthorne’s still their favourite son.’ He smiled. ‘It depends. I don’t have a crystal ball. But if you said to me, would I rule Hawthorne out as a future presidential candidate, even as President, I’d have to say, No.’

‘I guess you’re not going to elaborate on those rumoursT Gini gave him a sidelong glance.

Stein smiled. ‘You’re damn right. I’m not. Not to a reporter on the News, even if she is Sam Hunter’s daughter. Look at it this way, Genevieve,’ he gestured towards the top table, ‘the man’s forty-seven. He looks thirty-seven. He’ll stay here in London how long? Maybe two, at most three years. I’d give it two. Then, before you know it, he’s back in the States, rebuilding that political base of his. Meantime, in any case, he can rely on the Magus. I will tell you one thing. I hear - and I hear it from very good sources - that old SS never gave up. This is a blip, as far as he’s concerned. Back home, he’s busy wheeling and dealing the way he always was. He’ll keep John Hawthorne’s seat nice and warm.’

Gini glanced across at Hawthorne’s father. He was speaking, she saw, to Frank Romero again. She turned to Stein.

‘You see that guy over there, the man talking to Hawthorne’s fatherT

‘I see him, sure.’

‘He’s one of Hawthorne’s security peopleT

‘He’s one of his father’s security people, that I do know.’ Stein’s expression hardened. ‘I forget his name, but I know him. He goes way back. He was always around, drafted in by the father, making sure that when John Hawthorne was campaigning, he stayed on the straight and narrow. Oh, and making sure he didn’t get killed, of course. That too. SS knows how to protect his investments.’

‘You mean thatT Gini stared at him. ‘You mean the father hired the bodyguards.’

‘And they doubled up as Daddy’s spies?’ Stein grinned. ‘Sure. ay back, in the early days, before John Hawthorne became less ht-lipped than he is now, he used to talk about it. joke about even, late at night, after a day’s campaigning, over a drink or

two. His version was, the father was just a tad over-protective, e he wired his son’s room at Yale, had his lady friends invested, that kind of thing … ‘

‘You’re joking. Hawthorne himself talked about thatT

‘Sure. I heard him myself, once_ or twice. Like I say, he’d tend to be amused, tell the story in this dry, droll kind of y. Make light of it.’ Stein shrugged, then gave a frown. ‘He’s interesting man, Hawthorne. A complex man. What I said

rher - I didn’t mean to belittle him. He’s tough now, hard t’s inevitable. But I used to like him.’

‘And you don’t like him now?’

‘I don’t like his politics, that’s for sure. Do youT He gave her a rp glance.

Gini said, ‘You mean, all things to all menT

‘That’s exactly what I mean. But that’s what brings in the tes, Genevieve, and the donations … ‘ He began to count items on his fingers. ‘Pro-civil rights, so he brings in the k vote, and the Hispanics. Pro-Israel, a real Zionist - but a SP at home. No Jewish friends. Hell.’ Stein gave an almost

gry shrug, and broke off. ‘So, he’s not a man of principle. could have been, but he isn’t. So, he’s a politician. What’s

hen it’s not just his politics? You don’t like the manT

‘I never met a politician I did like.’ Stein grinned. ‘Snakes in the ass, every goddamn one of them.’

He leaned back in his chair. Coffee was being served, and ueurs. Stein took one of the cigars being offered around the

1e, as did Jenkins. Through a haze of aromatic smoke, Gini saw microphones being positioned. The full television lighting was tched on.

Lord Melrose stood, and began on his speech of introduction. was elegant but overlong. He had not, Gini thought, made wthorne’s task as main speaker any easier. The audience might well-oiledibut there was restlessness in the room.

As John Hawthorne rose to his feet, the cameramen moved to position. Hawthorne waited until there was silence. Then gave an easy smile, a Hollywood smile, and he threw the ch, Gini could sense him do it, just as he had done briefly at

Mary’s party. Whatever charisma was, that elusive, hard-to-define quality, Hawthorne had it. She could feel its force in the room.

‘Privacy and the Press … ‘ Hawthorne looked around his audience. ‘What an opportunity. Here I am, and I can give you my views, secure in the knowledge that when I get to the end, I won’t have to take one single question … ‘ His tone had become dry. ‘And let me tell you, when facing the British press corps, that’s very good to know … ‘

It was perfectly judged, Gini thought. The delivery was good, the timing was good, the smile was good - and he got the response he wanted. There was a ripple of amusement from the audience, and a collective relaxation. The moment of tension that always precedes any speech had been quickly overcome. Having relaxed his audience, Hawthorne then proceeded to wind them in.

He spoke without notes, clearly and concisely. He kept his speech light initially, then turning to the central question - the freedom of the Press versus the protection of the individual he began to take a tougher approach. He put the case for each side with scrupulous exactitude, like an attorney. Gini waited to see which side he would come down on: with this audience there could be no fudging of the issues. Would he take the liberal or the conservative line?

Pausing, Hawthorne fixed his audience with a cool blue stare. ‘Several years ago now/ he continued, ‘when I was still a United States senator, I made a long tour of Middle Eastern Arab states

- something I guess I couldn’t risk now. While I was out there, I learned at first-hand what it was like to live in a society where ordinary men and women had no access to the truth. Where newspapers and television had been corralled by the state. Where journalists like yourselves had to print and promulgate propaganda, or risk imprisonment and death.’ His blue gaze raked the room.

‘I’ll say this - I was probably naive. I had every reason to understand what those societies were like, and how they operated

- I could read Western newspapers, after all. But to read those accounts, and actually to experience that kind of state propaganda were two very different things. I learned a lot from that trip, and one of the chief things I learned was fear. The techniques being used in those countries weren’t new ones, you see. They’d been perfected at the time of the Third Reich, in Nazi Germany. Fifty years later, when the Cold War was ending, I could see propaganda methods first used by Joseph Goebbels.

ey had worked then - and they worked just as effectively, and t as damnably, right now.’

He paused, and gave his silent audience a long cool look. ow, of course, all of us here tonight are fortunate. I am, you . We live in Western democracies. We have a free Press. We n look back over our own recent history, and we can point

ifically to historic changes we owe to those freedoms. That t exaggeration. It isn’t hyperbole. I’m thinking about events as Watergate. I’m thinking, in particular, about the Vietnam

r, and the journalists who risked their lives to bring back the th from a war zone. Those men and women changed America. turned a whole nation around. And in the final analysis, it

s they, and their influence, that brought an end to that war. ‘Now/ he paused again, and lightened his tone, ‘I have to admit, reporting isn’t of that magnitude - I feel that exposing the ual peccadilloes of British Cabinet Ministers, or investigating private lives of the monarchy, may not rank on quite the

me scale as bringing home the truth about a war. When people to me that kind of coverage is intrusive or morally wrong, ve to admit I have a certain sympathy with their view.’ He ed. ‘I’ve suffered press investigations in the past, I’ve had e lenses trained on me and I know exactly how unpleasant