Power Play (25 page)

“We need something more than that, Jake. Something that will make the voters realize that MHD is important. Something that will get votes for Franklin.”

Jake said, “I’ll try to think of something.”

“The Fourth of July will be here in a few weeks,” she said. “We’re trying to think of something special that Franklin could do, something to get him headlines and really get the campaign off with a bang.”

Jake figured that she and Tomlinson were getting themselves off with a bang fairly often.

Amy gave him an impish smile. “Don’t look so sour, Jake.”

“Sour? Me?”

“You wear your heart on your face. Whenever I ask you to do something you don’t like, you frown like a gargoyle.”

Jake said nothing, but he thought that if she could really see what he was thinking she’d stop smiling and go to bed with him. Yet he couldn’t tell her that. Not now that she was so wrapped up with Tomlinson.

Still, the germ of an idea had popped into his mind. He didn’t mention it to Amy, not there at the bar. He had to work out the idea in all its details. He knew he’d have to get Tim Younger’s cooperation, and to get that, he’d have to go through Glynis.

He hadn’t seen much of Glynis since their trip to Florida and Monster’s warning about trying to find Nacho Perez. Yet he worried about her; she was determined to prove that Sinclair had been murdered, regardless of Jake’s warnings.

But now he found that he was actually glad of an excuse to see her again.

*   *   *

Two days later, with all the details of his idea firmly in his mind, Jake invited Glynis to dinner.

She sounded wary when he called. “Dinner? Tonight?”

“You’re not busy, are you?”

“No…” She drew the word out.

“I’ve got an idea I want to talk to Tim about,” he explained. “But first I’d like to bounce it off you, see what you think of it.”

For several heartbeats Glynis said nothing. Then, “Very well. Where do you want to go?”

*   *   *

Jake arrived at Danny’s Seafood Locker a few minutes early, as usual. Feeling somewhat apprehensive, he slid into a booth and ordered a beer. “The darkest you’ve got,” he told the young waitress.

To his surprise, she brought him a bottle of Negra Modelo. And a tall glass. Maybe the management heard my grumbling, he thought. Or maybe they have a better class of waiters working the dinner shift.

Jake was pouring the beer when Glynis entered the restaurant, wearing a soft pink blouse and dark slacks. She looked over the half-empty restaurant, spotted Jake getting up from his booth, and hurried over to him.

“Hi!” Jake said, glad to see her. For a fleeting instant he thought about kissing her, but Glynis gave him a perfunctory smile and slid into the booth on the opposite side of the table.

Her expression was serious. “I was surprised when you called.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve been avoiding me since we got back from Florida.”

Jake had told her about Monster’s warning. “Look, I tried to locate Nacho Perez, you know.”

“You told me about this goon’s warning you.”

“You ought to stay clear of it, too.”

Strangely, Glynis smiled. “But don’t you see, Jake? We must be on the right track; we’re worrying them.”

“They’re worrying me, all right,” Jake admitted.

“Are you scared?”

“Damned right. And you should be, too. If they’ve already murdered three people, they’re not going to let the two of us get in their way.”

Glynis started to reply, but the waitress interrupted to ask what she wanted to drink. She asked for a glass of chardonnay.

As the waitress left their booth, Glynis said, “I’ve talked it over with one of the state’s assistant district attorneys. She’s an old friend of Arlan’s—one of his girlfriends, actually, from years ago.”

Jake asked, “And?”

Looking disappointed, Glynis said, “She told me that all I have is suspicions.” She hesitated a heartbeat, then went on, “And we’re dealing with a very rough crowd.”

“I know that,” Jake said.

“But what are we going to
do
about it?”

He wished he knew. “Maybe,” he started, “maybe the best thing to do is lay low until Tomlinson gets elected. He could ask for a full investigation. As a U.S. senator he might even be able to bring the FBI into the case.”

Glynis looked disappointed.

“Look, Glyn, these guys are professionals. Gambling, prostitution, loan-sharking … they all run together. They use strong-arm tactics the way you and I use toothpaste. It’s an ordinary, everyday thing to them.”

“And you’re going to let them get away with it?”

Leaning across the table, Jake said urgently, “I’m not going up against them by myself. That would be stupid.”

She nodded. “I suppose so.”

“And don’t you try it, either. You’ll get hurt.”

“I suppose so,” she repeated. But she didn’t sound convinced. Or convincing.

The waitress brought Glynis’s wine and a pair of menus. They sipped and studied the menus and ordered: filet of local trout for Glynis, fried oysters for Jake.

She gave Jake an odd little smile as the waitress left for the kitchen.

“Oysters again?” Glynis asked. “Do you need them?”

He nearly sputtered the beer he had just drunk. Coughing, he replied, “Uh … I like oysters.”

“There’s an old joke about them, you know. A fellow tells his pal that oysters aren’t aphrodisiacs, as they’re supposed to be. He says he had a dozen of them the night before and only nine of them worked.”

Jake laughed weakly. He’d heard the joke before. He wished he could get one of them to work.

Once they’d started on their meals, Glynis asked, “So what’s this idea you wanted to tell me about?”

Glad to be talking about something else, Jake said, “Tomlinson’s people want some kind of demonstration to show the public that MHD works.”

“So?”

“So the Fourth of July is coming up. Suppose we supply the town of Lignite with holiday lights. You know, red, white, and blue. The Statue of Liberty in red, white, and blue lights. Every house in the town, every store, the hotel, every building all decked out in patriotic lights.”

“The way people decorate their houses for Christmas,” Glynis said.

“Yeah. But this’ll be for the Fourth of July. And all the electricity to light up the whole town’s decorations will come from the big rig!”

Glynis’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful! I love it!”

“Fireworks, too,” Jake added. “Invite the whole state to come up to Lignite for the big Fourth of July celebration. Tomlinson can give a speech—”

“No. Let him push the button that lights up the town and sets off the fireworks.”

“Yeah! It’ll make a big splash in the news media for MHD,” Jake said.

“Yes, certainly.”

“Keep the lights on all night long.”

“Powered by the big rig.”

“Right.”

Her expression dimmed suddenly. “But suppose something goes wrong? It could be a terrible black eye for us.”

“That’s why we’ve got to get Tim behind this. He’s the one who’ll have to make sure it works right.”

“It would only be for eight hours,” Glynis mused. “Maybe less.”

“It could work,” Jake insisted. “Tim could make it work.”

“If he agreed to it.”

“Do you think he would?”

Glynis looked thoughtful. “We’ll see. Let me talk to him about it.”

Jake nodded, thinking that all the women he knew were wrapped up with other men. He looked down at his fried oysters. A lot of good they’re doing me, he thought.

CONVERSION

It was almost a week later before Jake heard from Glynis again. She must be having a hard time convincing Tim about my idea, he thought. He could picture Younger adamantly refusing to use the big rig for a publicity stunt.

One morning, though, after a sweaty hour on the basketball court with Bob Rogers, Jake returned to his office and saw that Glynis had phoned to ask if he would take a ride out to the big rig with her. Jake immediately called her back.

“Bob’s asked me to tell Tim about your idea for the Fourth of July,” Glynis told him.

“You mean nobody’s told him about it yet?” Jake snapped into the phone. “For chrissakes, we’ve only got less than two weeks to—”

She interrupted, “Bob thinks Tim will be more receptive to the idea if I spring it on him.” Before Jake could think of a reply, she added, “Well, at least he’ll be less negative about it.”

Sure, Jake thought. He won’t get sore at her. Smart move, Rogers.

To Glynis he said, “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

That afternoon he hopped into her Jaguar and they started for Lignite.

“How’s the car behaving?” Jake asked as they hit the interstate.

Glynis glanced at him. “Haven’t had a lick of trouble with it for more than a week.”

Jake felt far from reassured. Should have taken the Gray Ghost, he said to himself.

They made it to the big rig with no difficulties, though, Glynis pushing the powerful Jag well past the speed limits. Jake kept his eyes peeled for the highway patrol, knowing that the cops loved to ticket sleek, expensive cars. Especially red ones, according to local wisdom. He felt glad that Glyn’s Jag was forest green.

The big rig was silent as they entered the oversized shed. Tim Younger was bent over the heart of the apparatus, a trio of technicians hovering at his side.

“Hello, Tim,” Glynis called out.

Younger straightened up and turned toward her, a big smile on his normally dour face.

“How’s it going?” Jake asked.

“We’re inspecting the channel for erosion after our latest run,” Younger said. “Everything looks good, even the electrodes. We’ll be going for two hundred hours, starting tomorrow.”

Glynis said, “Jake has an idea that could bring a lot of political support to MHD.”

“An idea?” Younger immediately looked suspicious.

“A stunt, kind of,” said Jake.

Younger started walking slowly across the concrete floor, toward the control booth. Matching him stride for stride, Jake explained his Fourth of July idea.

“Some stunt,” Younger huffed.

“It could make everyone in the state aware of MHD, Tim,” said Glynis.

“Yeah, especially if we have to shut the rig down in the middle of the show.”

“It would only be for a few hours,” Jake said. “Six, eight hours at the most.”

“Keep the whole town lit up all night? How’re people going to sleep?”

“They can pull their drapes closed,” Glynis said.

“I don’t like it,” Younger groused.

Glynis looked him squarely in the eye. “You don’t have to like it. Can you do it?”

“Yeah, sure…”

“Then let’s go ahead with it,” she said firmly.

“Look,” Jake said, “you’ve already had the rig running for a hundred hours at a time. This’ll be easy for you.”

“Easy for
you
,” Younger countered. “I’m the guy who has to make it work.”

“You can do it, Tim,” Glynis coaxed. “You know you can.”

Younger tried to frown at her, but his expression quickly melted into a boyish grin. “Yeah, I guess we can.”

“Fine,” said Glynis.

“But I don’t like it. It’s sticking our chin out. If anything goes wrong…”

Jake heard himself quote, “‘Behold the lowly turtle: He only makes progress when he sticks his neck out.’”

Younger shook his head. “Politics. Sometimes I think the prof was right. This is nothing but a stunt for political reasons.”

“So was landing on the Moon,” Jake snapped.

STRATEGY SESSION TWO

The following day Jake drove Bob Rogers to a meeting at the Tomlinson residence. He wanted to explain his Fourth of July idea to the candidate and his aides, and Tomlinson wanted to map out their plans for the campaign against Senator Leeds.

“Tim agreed to it?” Rogers’s voice was high with delighted surprise.

“Reluctantly,” Jake replied, keeping his eyes on his driving. “But he agreed.”

Rogers chuckled. “Glynis can get him to agree to anything.”

Jake felt a flare of resentment in his gut. But he said nothing. I don’t have the right to say a word, he told himself. What Glynis and Tim do together is none of my business. Still, he thought that Younger was taking unfair advantage of her, catching her on the rebound after Sinclair’s death. But she doesn’t seem to mind it, Jake had to admit to himself. She seems to like Tim. And he certainly seems to want to please her.

He parked the Mustang on the edge of the Tomlinson mansion’s curving driveway. It was a warm and bright June afternoon, although thunderheads were building up in the west. We’ll have showers before sunset, Jake thought, just like the forecast said.

The butler led them into the library, where Tomlinson was sitting beside Amy on the leather couch, looking tired, somber. His father stood by the window, eyeing the buildup of dark clouds. No drinks in sight, Jake noticed. But then the butler came back pushing a serving cart that rattled with bottles and glassware.

The elder Tomlinson nodded, and the butler silently withdrew. Amy went to the cart. “I’ll be mother,” she said, cheerfully. “Scotch for you, Franklin?”

Tomlinson pulled himself up from the couch and went to the cart, where Amy splashed scotch over a tumbler filled with ice cubes. Jake and Rogers both accepted frosted bottles of beer from the cooler beneath the cart’s tabletop. Tomlinson’s father took bourbon and Amy poured herself a glass of white wine.

As they all stood around the serving cart, Amy lifted her glass and toasted, “Here’s to a successful debate.”

Surprised, Jake blurted, “Leeds has agreed to a debate?”

“Three of them,” said Amy, looking satisfied.

Rogers said, “I thought an incumbent didn’t like to debate a challenger; gives the challenger too much recognition, makes him look important.”

“Franklin already has plenty of recognition,” Amy explained. “Leeds knows that Franklin is as well known now as he himself is.”

“Leeds is no dummy,” Tomlinson Senior said sternly. “Frankie didn’t do that well in his first debate against Dant. Leeds is probably planning to ambush us, just the way Dant did.”

“He thinks he can outscore me in a face-to-face,” Tomlinson said, holding his drink in both hands as he walked slowly back to the couch.