The Senator's Choice (19 page)

His regular cell phone buzzed with another text but he ignored it. There were too many other things on his mind.

He gnawed on his thumbnail as he stared out the window. He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on his desk. Then he decided he couldn
’
t wait to slip down the hall again. He needed to talk to Seth now.

The phone rang and rang. Still nothing.

Answer the phone, Seth.

He powered off the burner phone and slid it into his desk drawer.

He got up and paced around his office for a few minutes, contemplating a different course of action.

Maybe I should call in the authorities to help.

He shook his head almost as soon as the thought emerged in his mind. He knew that was too risky — and the last thing he wanted to do was put Luke in more danger than he already was. Not that it would matter if the kidnappers decided not to uphold their end of the bargain.

His phone buzzed again with a text message, but he didn
’
t want to pick it up. It was probably Sarah or some aide needing something. But right now, he needed some more coffee, anything to spark his imagination.

The second he opened his door, his secretary grabbed his attention and refused to let him ignore her.

“Senator, we need to talk,” she said.

“Can it wait a minute? I need to get some coffee.”

“No, it can
’
t.”

He stopped. “Okay, fine. What is it?”

“I got a call from Alicia Stone at
The Columbus Dispatch
. She wants to get a comment from you about a story she
’
s planning on running in tomorrow
’
s paper,
” she said as she handed him the note. “Then your campaign manager Russell Polson called and he said he wants to talk to you about how to handle your interview with Miss Stone.”

“How does he know about this?”

“Word travels fast — and he suggested you reach him ASAP so you can get out in front of this thing.”

Daniels sighed and took the other note from her. “Very well then. I
’
ll call Polson first and then get back to Miss Stone — but not until I get some coffee.”

Moments later, he returned to his office, holding a steaming mug of coffee with both hands. He settled into his chair and called Polson.

“So, Polson I hear you
’
re up to date on the latest mud being slung my way,” Daniels said.

“Senator, with all due respect, it
’
s not unfounded.”

“It
’
s certainly not anything I was aware of. Were you?”

Polson cleared his throat. “Not until today, sir. But we
’
ve already returned the money and donated the same sum to charity.”

“How did that slip through the cracks? You know I
’
m an outspoken opponent of campaign contributions from overseas entities —
I don’
t care if the Supreme Court says it
’
s legal.
”

“I know, sir, but—”

“Didn
’
t I ask you to have several staffers review all incoming donations to make sure we never got blindsided by something like this?”

“Yes, sir, you did and—”

“Then how did this happen? Incompetence? Negligence? Ignorance? None of these excuses are acceptable.”

“I believe we were set up.”

“Set up? How? And by whom?”

“I
’
m still working on all the answers to your questions, but from what I can gather through the research I
’
ve done since learning about this is that the donation in question came from a U.S. address. However, it appears that it
’
s simply a U.S. subsidiary of a Russian-owned petroleum company.”

“How can they come after me for that?”

“To those who don
’
t know all the details, it appears to be a simple pay-for-play scheme. Just so happens that they are one of the companies expected to bid on the pipeline.” Polson paused. “It puts you in a bad light, sir, if nothing else.”

“If Miss Stone has her way, she
’
ll run with this and turn the lights out on me and our entire campaign.”

“I agree, which is why we need to nip this thing in the bud before she publishes it. At the very least, we need to have a believable explanation for how this happened.”

“I
’
m not sure it will matter.”

“It may not, but we
’
ve got to try. Better to try and control the narrative than let her write one for us.”

Daniels sighed.
“I
’
m afraid she
’
s already written one — and it won
’
t be kind to us.”

“Charm her and sell her on the truth. You
’
ve got nothing to lose, not to mention having the truth on your side.”

“Ah, a phrase politicians love to hear. At least you
’
re not blowing smoke.”

“Just give her the facts and challenge her on it. See if she
’
s willing to bet her career on it.”

“Geez, Polson, I
’
m not going to threaten her.”

“Why not? She
’
s the one threatening you.”

“She
’
s a cub reporter doing her job and trying to catch a break.”

“Just remember, cubs have teeth.”

“Cubs also have a heart. I
’
ll try to reach her that way.”

“
Good luck.
”

Daniels hung up and drummed his fingers on his desk, contemplating how he could reasonably explain everything. He had to admit that it looked bleak, but it wasn
’
t what it seemed. The general public wouldn
’
t believe it since they never believed anything politicians said. Daniels knew it was a fair criticism. His profession didn
’
t have a sterling record when it came to honesty. But to tell another lie would be worse. Daniels decided upon a direct approach. It was his best chance at averting disaster.

He dialed Alicia Stone
’
s number.

“Miss Stone, I received your message.”

“Thank you for calling me back, Senator Daniels. I wanted to give you the chance to comment before we moved forward with this story.”

“I
’
m afraid to disappoint you, Miss Stone, but the story is nothing more than a non-story at this point.”

She laughed. “Nice try, Senator, but I believe the evidence speaks for itself.”

“The evidence never speaks — it merely points toward the truth. So, shall I help point you in the right direction?”

“Feel free to try.”

“I
’
m assuming you
’
re inquiring about the donation we received from Northwest Oil. Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“Very well then. Northwest Oil, as you know, is a Russian-owned oil company that does plenty of work in the U.S. with U.S. subsidiaries. However, we would
’
ve never accepted their campaign donation in the first place if we knew what was going on.”

“How convenient now.”

“Now, now, Miss Stone. This is no time for snide comments. I
’
ve called you to bear the truth about what happened in this particular situation. Your choice to believe the truth is up to you — just like it
’
s my choice to sue your paper for libel and slander.”

“I can assure you, Senator Daniels, everything we print is true.”

“That
’
s never been the case with your paper. You print facts and create your own truth based off what you
think
you know. And in this case, what you
think
you know is that I accepted a campaign contribution from a foreign entity, something I am staunchly against. The truth is, the moment this was brought to light, we returned the campaign money and donated the same amount to charity as a show of good will.”

“That
’
s not a show of anything — other than you getting caught with your pants down.”

Daniels snorted. “Such a vile metaphor in my profession, particularly in light of what you
’
re accusing us of.”

“
I won
’
t be accusing you of anything, Senator. I
’
ll be providing our readers with a set of facts from which they can make their own decision about what kind of man you are.”

“Fair enough. I
’
ve already made my decision about what kind of reporter you are.”

“And what kind is that?”

“The muck-raking kind. Now, if you
’
ll excuse me, I have important business to attend to.”

“Like making sure Northwest Oil lands that pipeline deal you
’
re pushing so hard for? Good luck with that.”

“And good luck with your so-called career in journalism. You won
’
t last long.”

Daniels slammed the phone down.

So much for the direct approach.

He seethed as he contemplated his next move.

He marched around his office, parsing his conversation with the reporter. He never got into politics to be dishonest with anyone or to strong arm them, but he wanted to with someone like Miss Stone. She had an obvious agenda, which had less to do with reporting the truth and more to do with writing a story that would get splashed across the headlines of every website in America and become popular fodder for talk radio hosts the following day.

Daniels
’
phone buzzed again.

“This is Daniels.”

“Senator, just calling to check in with you and give you proof of life.”

He sat down, breathless. “Let me speak to Luke.”

Seconds dripped by like hours. “Dad?”

“Luke? Are you okay?”

“I
’
m find, Dad. How are you?”

“That
’
s enough,” a man
’
s voice said after the phone was taken from Luke. “Satisfied?”

“
Listen here
—”

“No, you listen to me. That reporter who just called you is going to take your entire career down if you call someone else to let them know about your son.”

“Someone else?”

“Yes, we know what you did. We figured out someone was on to us. You
’
re pretty clever. It wasn
’
t law enforcement, but it was a team of trained men. But don
’
t worry
— we took care of them this afternoon.”

Daniels sighed.
“I
’
m afraid I don
’
t know what you
’
re talking about.”

“I
’
m afraid you do. And they
’
re all dead.” He paused. “However, if I catch you sending anyone else after us, I
’
ll redirect that reporter onto a story so bad that it
’
ll make this campaign contribution scandal look like child
’
s play. Now, you play nice or else she finds out everything, including the truth about your wife
’
s death.”

“Now you listen to me, you sick bastard—”

“No, no, no, Senator. Save your name calling for the campaign trail. We only speak the truth here. Now, I
’
ll hold Miss Stone at bay until after the campaign, but if I suspect that anything else goes sideways, don
’
t think I won
’
t hesitate to have her pull the trigger on an even bigger story about you after the vote on Friday.”

“
Bigger story? You
’
re bluffing? Or faking?”

“Don
’
t you worry about me,” the man said. “You worry about you. And what you have to worry about is your political career going up in smoke over this New England pipeline deal.”

Daniels slammed his phone down again and pitched a tantrum that would
’
ve rivaled that of any three year old. He hated being talked down to almost as much as he despised being told what to do.