The Labyrinth Campaign (17 page)

“The key is to find someone who would personally or professionally benefit from Hawkins’s exposure. Has he had an affair or mistreated someone who has a personal vendetta?” He eyed Kate, waiting for a response.

She knew he was watching her reaction, so she finally turned to him and said, “Okay, yes, I had a humiliating experience with Senator Will Hawkins many years ago. He made an aggressive, drunken pass at me, which I resisted vehemently. He called me a ‘teasin’ bitch’ and walked away. So admittedly, I’ve hated him ever since, but that doesn’t give me the credibility necessary to make these types of accusations.”

“True,” Jack responded thoughtfully. “Regardless of your detective status, Hawkins’s insiders would discredit you as quickly as they did me.”

“What about the media or the Republicans, both would obviously kill to possess this type of information?”

Jack was quiet for a moment and then responded, “That’s it. We contact the president.”

“We what?” Kate exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Think about it,” Jack said. “What better way to ensure that the story is not lost or suppressed? President Hughes would directly benefit from the release of the story, not to mention that he has the power to make sure the public is informed.”

“How would we get to him?”

“I’m thinking. First, we need to get in close proximity. Same town, same airport, something. Next, we get a message to him or his chief of staff explaining that an adviser to Will Hawkins wants to see him regarding something of utmost importance.”

Kate interrupted. “But everyone thinks you’re a drug dealer. Imagine what type of spin is already being created at the station.”

“You’re right. But if I explain that what I know is why I was framed, they’ll have to at least listen. And once we get them to listen, they’re going to be interested.”

“What if they won’t see us?” Kate asked skeptically.

“They’ll have to. Anyway, what are our options?”

“All right, then,” Kate said, feigning energy. “Let’s find the president.” “Now, we need a copy of the presidential campaign schedule,” Jack said.

“How about the Internet?” Kate responded sarcastically.

Jack laughed and added, “I guess that’s the easy part. The hard part is finding somewhere to stay tonight where they won’t find us.”

After minutes of silence as each of them racked their brains for a safe spot, Jack spoke first. “Carrie’s parents have a lake house out at Cedar Creek. It’s secluded, and I know where they keep the key. They’re not returning until tomorrow morning, so I’ll just leave a message on their machine, and we’ll be out of there before they even get it.”

“Why leave a message?”

“Exactly! I want them to think the same thing—how odd it is that I left a message, how that type of action is not consistent with a man on the run.”

Kate raised her eyebrows, ready to further question his logic, but decided to let it drop. They began the drive east on I-30 in silence, both of them contemplating what the future had in store.

I
an McKay awoke at 5:00 a.m. in his room at the Driskill Hotel. He methodically got his belongings together in an effort to make a quick exit if necessary. Will Hawkins’s speech on the steps of the capitol wasn’t until noon, but McKay had already decided that if he wanted to ensure his place in the receiving line, he needed to be there by 7:00 a.m.

When Ian stepped out onto Sixth Street, it was already hot and humid. He began the ten-block stroll up Congress to the capitol. With each block, his emotional intensity built. Ian was finally going to look into the eyes of the man who had beat his brother to death more than two decades ago.

Ian approached the spot where he envisioned the meeting would take place. As he stood there, imagining what it would be like to stare into the eyes of an unknowing Will Hawkins, he reviewed the plan in his head: making sure he was right up against the restraining fence; catching the candidate’s attention with a small sign proclaiming “The Hawkins Administration will change the world.” Ian was sure the sign would catch the attention of the egomaniacal Hawkins, but it was also his attempt at a cruel joke. He knew in his heart that if elected, Senator Hawkins would find a way to fuck up his administration.

Once the senator approached, Ian would offer his hand, palming the incriminating note. The note would identify him as the brother of the man Hawkins killed in London a quarter-century earlier. It would demand a $25 million payment to his niece, the young woman who never knew her father because of him. It would instruct Hawkins to get a suite at the Four Seasons on Town Lake and wait for a call. Once contacted, Hawkins would be told to come to Lee Park in Dallas on Tuesday with a duffel bag full of unmarked, low-denomination bills. The final instructions were to come alone. If anything happened to disrupt the transaction, the press would be immediately notified of the unknown incident.

It would work. The $25 million would hurt them but wasn’t debilitating to the Hawkins family. Young Will not becoming president—that would be completely unacceptable.

Jack McCarthy was in that barely conscious state of awareness just before a person fully awakes to his morning surroundings. It was 6:00 a.m. on Sunday. Jack and Kate had slept fewer than five hours, and it was a restless sleep at best. As Jack became aware of his surroundings, he realized that he was in his dead girlfriend’s parents’ lake house with a beautiful homicide detective resting on his shoulder. The surreal nature of his reality came rushing back to him. Jack tried to slide out from underneath Kate Anson without waking her but was unsuccessful.

Jack stood in the well-decorated but rustic great room of the lake house. Kate, having quickly gained her senses, asked, “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

“Out to get a newspaper,” Jack replied. “I was hoping to let you sleep until I got back.”

Relieved that there wasn’t something more sinister to his careful movement, Kate said she’d take a quick shower and see him when he returned.

As Jack drove the mile and a half down the bumpy dirt road that provided access to the lake house from State Highway 175, he couldn’t
shake the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy regarding what to do next. There was no one for him and Kate to trust and no definitive path for them to follow. Jack wheeled the unmarked police cruiser into the empty parking lot of the local Loaf and Jug.

When he entered, the man behind the counter gave him a loud, genuine “howdy” to which Jack replied, “How ya doing?”

He quickly realized that not only did he need a newspaper, but food was definitely in order as well. He quickly perused the fresh food counter and determined that in this case, the word fresh was used quite liberally. Following that line of thinking, he passed on the biscuits and gravy and grabbed a couple of bagels instead. Two bottles of orange juice, two coffees, and a
Dallas Free Press
followed next. As he stacked the various items on the counter, what he saw next nearly stopped his heart. The Sunday morning headline was, “Drug Shootout at Police HQ.” Below the bold-type headline were two photographs: headshots of Kate and him. Jack quickly recovered from his initial shock, turned the paper over to conceal the photos from the man behind the counter, paid quickly, and headed toward the door.

Just as he reached for the door handle, the man behind the counter spoke. “Excuse me, sir. I take pride in knowing my customers. Haven’t I seen you in here before?”

The answer was no, but he’d probably glanced at the morning paper and seen his photo on the front page. But Jack, having spent the past twenty years having to think on his feet, answered, “Yes. My girlfriend’s folks have a place down on the lake, and we come out several times a year.” Before the man could respond, Jack opened the door and left.

Jack’s mind was reeling on the drive back to the lake. They needed to leave at once. He’d already left a message for Carrie’s parents telling them he was going to stay there Saturday night. As soon as they saw the newspaper, they were sure to call the police. He also needed to ditch Kate’s car. Every trooper in Texas was probably looking for the unmarked cruiser involved in yesterday’s downtown Dallas shootout. Jack skidded to a stop on the gravel driveway, jumped out of the car, and ran inside to grab Kate. What he saw next stopped him in his tracks. In
the corner of the room, tied to a kitchen chair, was Kate. Next to her was a large man in a dark suit casually pointing a gun at her head. The smile on his face indicated he was enjoying the moment.

“Welcome to the party, Mr. McCarthy. Kate and I were just talking about you.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Jack barked in the most intimidating voice he could muster.

“I think you know the answer to that question, Mr. McCarthy. Please sit down.”

Jack scanned the room as he moved toward the chair set up next to Kate. He quickly noticed a man out behind the house leaning against a black sedan. The man was obviously the lookout but seemed relatively uninterested and was assuming things were in control. Jack continued across the room as the man with the gun laughed at Jack’s naïveté.

“You’re probably wondering how we found you. You should never leave messages for friends or family when you’re on the lam.”

The comment felt like a blow to the stomach. His strategy to establish naïve innocence with Carrie’s parents had backfired and put him and Kate in grave danger. The anger that accompanied this realization went off in him like an explosion. In one move, Jack covered the last three feet between himself and the gunman, grabbed the gun in a twisting motion, broke the man’s arm, and dislocated his shoulder simultaneously. Then, with one blow to the back of the neck, the gunman crumpled to the floor.

Her eyes wide in amazement, Kate asked, “How did you do that?”

Jack responded, slightly out of breath, “Tae Kwan Do. I do it to stay in shape. I never thought I’d actually have to use it.”

Kate smiled as Jack untied her. “Well, I’m glad you’re vain enough to stay in shape.” The two restrained the unconscious gunman while discussing a plan to escape their current situation.

The plan was fairly simple. They needed to get the attention of the man standing guard outside so that Jack could come in from behind and subdue him. The plan had one catch; Kate was the bait. As they were still discussing the pros and cons of Kate keeping the guard’s attention, she
was scanning the well-appointed lake house for an idea. When she began rummaging through the drawers of the second bedroom, she found what she was looking for. Less than a minute later, she exited from the bedroom wearing a very revealing one-piece swimsuit. Jack stopped in his tracks. She was stunning, but his reaction was not what Kate had expected.

“Take that thing off immediately. What do you think you’re doing?”

Kate was taken aback. This was not the reaction she had expected, but before she responded, she realized the impetus for Jack’s reaction: the swimsuit. It had obviously been Carrie’s, and Jack was having a reaction to the guilt and pain that he had not yet been able to deal with.

Kate chose her words carefully. “The plan is simple, Jack. I sneak out the back door, slip into the water, swim to the neighbor’s dock, and then saunter toward the man outside, keeping his interest directed toward me. You come in from behind and do your thing.”

“I don’t like it,” Jack replied. “It’s too dangerous for you to approach an armed man who’s obviously here to harm us. Not to mention, that’s a lot of open water between docks.”

Kate smiled. She hadn’t taken that into consideration, but she was clearly ready to give it a try. “Do you have any better ideas?” she said, looking at him, trying to understand his feelings.

He was momentarily silent but finally answered, “No.”

Kate added a swim cap to her outfit to minimize the chances of the man outside recognizing her before Jack had a chance to approach from behind. She quietly exited the back door and slipped down the heavily wooded path to the dock. As she eased herself into the water, she realized it was farther than it looked from shore. The neighbor’s dock was only a couple of hundred yards away across the lake, but now it appeared to be miles. Kate began to question whether she could make it. “No turning back now,” she whispered to herself.

She began a quiet breaststroke toward her destination, always keeping an eye toward the guard leaning against his car. He appeared to be getting fidgety. Boredom, coupled with the edginess associated with waiting for his partner to exit the lake house, was taking its toll.

She was nearly there. Just a few more yards to go. She could just see the front hood of the Lincoln Town Car that had come for them, but the guard was not in sight. Her heart skipped a beat, thinking he had gotten restless and gone in to see what was taking so long. Before she had time to react, he reappeared.

“No time like the present,” she said quietly and climbed the ladder on to the dock.

She could see the guard tense up as he spotted her immediately. Kate didn’t want to raise his suspicion, so she didn’t immediately acknowledge his presence. She wished she had a towel; the slight breeze in the air, working in conjunction with her adrenaline, had her trembling. What now? she thought. She needed to get his full attention for the next couple of minutes to allow Jack time to approach from behind. Then it came to her. She began a stretching routine on the dock that was half calisthenics, half gentlemen’s club that she knew in her heart of hearts would keep any man’s attention at least for a while.