Power Play (19 page)

Sinclair was in his shirtsleeves; he had pulled his tie from his unbuttoned collar. He shot out of his desk chair the instant Jake walked into the room.

“How dare you intrude on my wife’s privacy?” Sinclair bellowed before Jake could say hello.

“She invited me to visit her,” Jake said.

Leveling an accusing finger at Jake, the professor snarled, “You had no right to see her. I’ll charge you with criminal trespass, goddamn you! I’ll get you fired! I’ll break you!”

Jake glanced at the stubble-jawed Perez, who looked more bemused than annoyed.

Turning back to Sinclair, he said as calmly as he could, “Your wife is a gambling addict and you don’t want anyone to know about it. Well, now I know and if you try to make good on your threats the rest of the world will know, too.”

Sinclair’s fleshy face turned flame red. His chest heaved visibly. Before he could say anything, though, Perez took a step from the window toward Jake.

“Now wait a minute, kid. You saying you’ll keep your mouth shut about Mrs. Sinclair?”

“I’m saying that I understand why the professor here is under Senator Leeds’s thumb. Leeds will keep quiet about her addiction as long as the professor doesn’t support Tomlinson.”

Sinclair seemed to crumple. He sagged into his desk chair, mouth hanging open, hands fluttering purposelessly. He took in a deep breath and pressed both hands firmly on the desktop.

“It’s more than that,” Sinclair muttered, staring down at his hands. “She nearly bankrupted me before I could … make the arrangements to keep her under control. The senator has been … helpful … financially.”

“Your son’s job,” Jake said.

“More than that,” said the professor.

“So it’s your move, kid,” Perez said, his voice scratchy, harsh. “Whacha gonna do about this?”

To Sinclair, Jake said, “I’ll have to tell Tomlinson why you can’t back his campaign.”

“And he’ll splash it all over the news media,” Sinclair moaned.

With a shake of his head, Jake replied, “No, there’s no point to that. It won’t help anything. Tomlinson will understand that.”

Perez said, “The best thing for you, kid, is to keep yer big mouth shut.”

“I’ll have to tell Tomlinson,” Jake insisted.

“Would you keep quiet for ten grand?”

Jake blinked at Perez. “Ten thousand dollars?”

“Tax free.” Perez’s lean, swarthy face broke into a knowing grin.

“No thanks.”

The grin disappeared. “You tryin’ to hold us up for more money?”

“I don’t want your money.”

“You’re gonna make things hard on yourself, kid.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Could be.”

Jake drew himself up as straight as he could and tried to keep Monster’s image out of his mind. “Beating me up is the surest way to break this story to the news media.”

“Who said anything about a beatin’?” Perez countered, with exaggerated innocence. Then he added, “But you could have an accident. Icy roads, too much to drink—”

“No!” Sinclair shouted. “I won’t have any part of that.”

Perez shrugged. “It ain’t your department, Prof. You got nothin’ to say about it.”

“I’ve already told one of Tomlinson’s aides about my visit with Mrs. Sinclair,” Jake lied. “Told her on the cell phone while I was driving back from Vernon. If anything happens to me, she’ll go straight to the news reporters.”

Perez started to say something, then thought better of it. Sinclair sat at his desk, bowed over like a man loaded down with a burden that threatened to overwhelm him.

Jake turned around and headed for the door, thinking, I hope they believe me. I hope Monster’s not downstairs waiting to break my legs. I’ve got to tell Tomlinson about this while I have the chance.

SURPRISES

As soon as Jake got to his own office he phoned Tomlinson. An aide told him in a haughty, know-it-all tone that Mr. Tomlinson was across the state, campaigning in the small farming towns.

“Amy Wexler, then,” Jake said into the phone.

“Ms. Wexler is with Mr. Tomlinson.”

Of course she is, Jake thought. Of course she is.

“Is there anyone else I could connect you to?” asked the aide.

“No,” Jake said. “I’ll try her cell phone.”

All he got was the cell phone’s message service. She doesn’t even have the phone turned on, Jake said to himself. Looking out his office window, he saw that the sun was low on the horizon. Long purple shadows were creeping across the campus.

I wonder what motel they’ll shack up in tonight, Jake grumbled silently.

His phone rang. Grabbing it, he blurted, “Amy?”

“No, it’s me,” said Glynis Colwyn’s voice. “I need to talk to you.” She sounded cold, grim.

“Sure. Where are you, I’ll—”

“You stay where you are,” Glynis said. “I’ll come over.”

Jake fiddled about the office for a few moments, then went back to his desk and phoned Tomlinson’s office again. The same reedy, superior voice answered.

“This is Jake Ross again.”

The aide asked, “And what can I do for you now, Dr. Ross?” He sounded slightly exasperated.

Jake realized he was biting his lip. “Uh, Mr. Tomlinson told me he would get someone to … uh, well … sort of watch out for me. You know, like a bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Jake could hear the surprise in the guy’s voice.

“That’s right.”

“How … unusual.”

“Do you know if he’s contacted anyone about that?”

A hesitation. Jake got the feeling that the aide was suppressing laughter. Finally, “No, Dr. Ross, I haven’t heard a thing to that effect.”

“Oh.”

“The Fain Security Company provides security for Mr. Tomlinson. You could ask them, I suppose.”

The aide’s smugly superior tone irritated Jake. “All right. That’s what I should do, I suppose.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Do you have their number?”

“They’re in the book, I’m sure.”

You self-important little prick, Jake thought. Aloud, he said, “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”

“Just doing my job, Dr. Ross.”

Jake slammed the phone back into its slot, fuming. Now he’ll spread it all over campaign headquarters that I want a bodyguard. Damn!

A single rap on his door made him look up. Glynis Colwyn stepped into his office, her dark eyes snapping at him. She was wearing a knee-length dark wool coat over a maroon sweater and faded jeans, and clutched an expensive-looking leather purse in one hand.

“What did you do to him?” she demanded before Jake could get up from his chair.

“Sinclair?”

“Of course!” Glynis said, stepping up to his desk.

“I visited his wife, up in Vernon,” Jake said. As they both sat down, he added, “She’s a gambling addict and Leeds has helped the professor to cover it up.”

Glynis’s expression softened. “A gambling addict?”

“That’s what Leeds has on the professor. Apparently he’s put up a good deal of money to help pay Mrs. Sinclair’s gambling debts.”

Glynis shrugged out of her coat and let it drape over the back of her chair. “So that’s why the professor won’t go with Tomlinson.”

“That’s why.”

More sharply, she asked, “And what do you intend to do about it?”

Jake spread his hands. “I’ll have to tell Tomlinson, of course.”

“Jake, you can’t!”

“Why not?”

“It will ruin the professor. It’ll be a scandal.”

“That his wife’s a gambling addict? Nobody’s going to be ruined over that. Lots of people have the same problem. For god’s sake, Glynis, the state has counseling programs for gambling addiction. They even put up billboards advertising the programs.”

“But you don’t understand! The professor will be humiliated.”

Thinking of Cardwell and his wife, Jake said, “So what.”

“That’s cruel, Jake.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess maybe it is. But Sinclair’s no saint, you know.”

“And the fact that he’s taken money from Senator Leeds and now Leeds is holding that over him…” She shook her head.

“It’d be a good way to blacken Leeds’s eye,” Jake mused.

“Jake, don’t.”

“Sinclair has it coming.”

“Because his wife is sick?”

“Because he’s a pompous ass who’s hidden his wife up there in Vernon while he hits on every woman he sees,” Jake snapped.

Her chin went up. “That’s not so.”

“Isn’t it? You told me he tried to hit on you.”

“Oh, that,” Glynis said. “That wasn’t serious.”

“Wasn’t it?”

She didn’t reply.

Thinking of Cardwell and Alice, Jake said, “It’s not just students, Glynis. He’s gone after married women, too.”

“That’s no reason to be so … so … vindictive.”

She’s trying to protect him, Jake said to himself. Why? She’s going with Tim Younger and Tim’s being held down by the professor.

He heard himself ask, “Whose side are you on, Glynis?”

“Side?” she asked. “Why do there have to be sides?”

“We’re in the middle of a political campaign, for god’s sake. I’m working for a man who’s running for the Senate, remember?”

“And I’m working for a man who has a problem with his wife,” she countered.

“What about Tim? What about the way Sinclair treats him?”

Her eyes flared. “Tim’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Like he’s taking care of you?”

She stared at him for a long, silent moment. At last she said, “My relationship with Tim is none of your business.”

“But why are you trying to protect Sinclair when he’s treating Tim like some migrant farm worker?”

“Arlan needs protection from opportunists who’d ruin his career and his marriage just to help win an election.”

Arlan? Jake thought. She’s calling the bastard by his first name?

“I’m not an opportunist, Glynis,” he said, surprising himself by how softly he spoke the words. “But I’m working for Tomlinson and I’ve got to tell him about Sinclair and the hold that Leeds has over him.”

“No matter what,” she said bitterly.

“Tomlinson won’t go public about it,” Jake tried to assure her. “It wouldn’t do him any good.” But inwardly he knew that Tomlinson could hurt Leeds by making this story public.

Slowly, Glynis got to her feet. She pulled her coat off the back of the chair, then said, “I had expected better of you, Jake.”

He got up from his chair, too. “Tomlinson won’t go public about it,” he repeated. But it sounded lame, he knew.

“I hope you’re right. I hope you’re not going to ruin the professor just to score a political point.”

Standing, Jake said, “You’re forgetting the real goal here, Glynis. I want the MHD program to succeed. I want Tim to be a success.”

“Over Sinclair’s dead body,” she said coldly.

Jake shook his head, thinking, If there’s going to be any dead body around here, chances are pretty good it’ll be mine.

CARDWELL RESIDENCE

As soon as Glynis left his office, Jake phoned Cardwell.

“I have news about Sinclair,” he said into the phone.

Lev didn’t answer for a heartbeat. Then he asked, “What is it?”

Glancing at the twilight shadows engulfing the campus, Jake said, “Maybe we’d better talk face-to-face.”

“That bad?”

“It’s … complicated.”

Cardwell’s voice sounded strangely flat. “Alice and I have a dinner engagement at seven o’clock. Why don’t you come over to the house for a beer, around five thirty?”

Jake said, “I’ll be there.”

Cardwell met him at the front door of his little doll’s house, in a tuxedo complete with black bow tie, although his jacket was off and Jake could see the fire-engine red suspenders he was wearing.

He led Jake to the tiny room tucked beneath the stairs that led up to the second floor. Jake had always suspected that the space had originally been a closet, but Lev had turned it into a compact little study for himself, with a minuscule desk, the flat screen of a computer on the wall beneath the slanted ceiling, and even a narrow set of bookshelves on the one full-height wall. With the two of them sitting knee to knee, Jake felt as if he were in the captain’s cabin on a submarine. The compartment felt stuffy with the door tightly closed. The promised beers were nowhere in sight.

“Gambling addiction,” Cardwell muttered. “Poor woman.”

“Apparently she went through a lot of their money. Senator Leeds has helped Sinclair financially—enough to control the professor.”

His owl-eyed face wrinkled with concern, Cardwell asked, “Hasn’t he gotten her some professional help?”

“I don’t know. If he has, it isn’t working. She trotted me out to the casino on the reservation as soon as I arrived at her house.”

“And the casino manager wouldn’t let her play?”

Jake nodded. “They’ve got the whole town staked out, Lev. She’s like a prisoner up there.”

“Poor woman,” Cardwell repeated.

Jake got to his feet carefully, his hair brushing the slanting ceiling. “So now I’ve got to tell Tomlinson as soon as he gets back—”

“No,” Cardwell said, so softly that Jake barely heard it.

“No?”

Waving Jake back to his little ladderback chair, Cardwell said, “You should keep this to yourself, Jake.”

“But I thought…”

With a sigh and his strange little smile, Cardwell said, “You thought I was after Arlan’s scalp. Well, I am. But not like this.”

Jake sat there, dumbfounded.

“What good would it do?” Cardwell asked. “You could embarrass Sinclair and humiliate his wife. You could hand Tomlinson a smear he could use against Leeds, I suppose. But would that change Sinclair’s opposition to Tomlinson?” With a shake of his head Cardwell answered his own question. “No, it would simply cement his position, force him to stand with Leeds. And the senator might even appear as something of a humanitarian, helping a man who has a problem with a sick wife.”

“But … I thought…”

Shaking his head gently, Cardwell went on, “It wouldn’t change anything, Jake, except to dirty up the campaign. Slinging mud is a nasty thing to do.”

“I suppose it is,” Jake admitted.

Patting Jake’s knee, Cardwell brightened a bit as he said, “I’d like to catch Arlan with his pants down. I’d love to show the world what a womanizing SOB the man can be. But not this. This is below the belt.”