The Labyrinth Campaign (21 page)

Again the crowd applauded, but this time with stoic determination, not the exhilaration that had been exhibited just moments earlier.

Ellis continued, “We, the people of this country, must take charge of our future. While ecology is the foundation of our mission, we must continue to endorse a broader agenda.

“At the same time that a reduction of our budget deficit has taken place and our friends in Washington argue over who should get the credit, that same budget deficit alone continues to rival the annual economy of most countries in the free world. While our leaders fight to take credit for putting more police on the street and raising the annual salaries of our children’s teachers, violent crime and drug use proliferate, and the educational measures for math and reading continue to erode. Our nation is not better off than it was ten years ago, contrary to what past administrations have claimed. Our nation is on the brink of some of the greatest challenges the new millennium has to offer.”

Ellis’s speech continued for another twenty-five minutes with a raucous interruption from his supporters almost every ninety seconds.

“Now, before we adjourn, I think it is important to set the tone for the foundation as we attack the next twelve months. That’s why I have chosen to personally endorse Senator William S. Hawkins for the presidency of the United States, and I’d like your support to provide the foundation’s endorsement as well.”

Ellis’s supporters erupted just as he hoped they would. Most of them had privately supported Hawkins for months but were waiting for their beloved leader’s endorsement to publicly begin their push. Now they had it.

A
s Jack McCarthy and Kate Anson drove their bartered Ford over Vail Pass, the realization hit that they had no idea where they would stay. Vail was a resort town, the president and his entourage arrived tomorrow, and the inability to use a credit card made the simple task of getting a room somewhat formidable.

They were driving in silence, contemplating their plight, when Jack finally spoke. “There’s a central reservations number in Vail that should help us figure out who has rooms available.”

“But how do we check in without a credit card? Isn’t that the usual requirement?”

“Of course it is, but we know that’s not an option, so we’re going to have to get creative.”

Kate thought for a moment and then said, “We’ll just tell them our luggage was lost and our credit cards were inside. We’ll say that we expect delivery from American Airlines tomorrow or the next day, but until then we’ll use cash as our deposit. We don’t look like vagrants or anything; maybe they’ll go for it.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders and said, “What do we have to lose?”

Jack wheeled the car into the public parking lot at the edge of Vail Village and found a spot. On the top floor of the parking structure, they found a pay phone and called the central reservation number. As it turned out, rooms were plentiful in Vail. After a lengthy deliberation, they decided on the Sonnenalp Hotel in the heart of the village. Their rationale was that as one of the nicest places in town, the hotel would be helpful and understanding toward someone with missing luggage and plenty of cash.

As it turned out, they were correct. With a $500 cash deposit and an agreement to check back with the manager in forty-eight hours, Jack and Kate had a luxurious room overlooking Gore Creek.

“This place is beautiful,” Kate said with a hint of girlishness in her voice.

“Yes, it is. I just wish my first chance to stay here was under different circumstances.” Oh shit, Jack thought, wondering if his comment might have somehow hurt Kate’s feelings.

“Tell me about it,” Kate said, allaying his concerns. “Now, how are we going to get to the president?”

At the end of an hour of brainstorming, they had a game plan—a weak one, but it was the best they could do on short notice. Simplicity seemed to be the best approach. Once the president and his entourage arrived, Jack and Kate would wait for the right moment and approach a Secret Service agent with a note. The contents of the note would outline everything that had transpired.

They were counting on the fact that President Hughes’s son had gone to the University of Colorado at the same time as Jack. Though they had been only acquaintances twenty years earlier, Jack had stayed in touch with Bill Farmer, who was still quite close with Hughes’s son. The story for the Secret Service would be that Farmer was also in Vail with his fiancée and would love a chance to visit the president if he had a moment. The contents of the note had their Sonnenalp contact information. Jack’s biggest fear was being recognized before gaining access to the president, but it was a chance they were going to have to take.

With the note written and more than twelve hours until the president and his entourage were to arrive, Jack and Kate decided to relax and spend an evening in the quaint village. Step one was to buy some clean clothes, so they wandered through the village visiting the type of stores one might expect to find on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.

“This feels like a dream,” Kate said excitedly. “It’s a mix between an alpine village and a mall in Dallas.”

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Jack responded. “All you need here is time and money.”

After making purchases at Ralph Lauren’s Polo store and Gorsuch, a high-end, alpine Neiman’s, the two returned to their room to clean up. Jack showered and changed quickly and turned the bathroom over to Kate. Thirty minutes later she emerged, and Jack turned to see one of the most stunning women he’d ever set eyes on.

“Wow, you look great,” he said with a surprised tone.

“I know it’s shocking, but I do get dressed up once in a while,” Kate said, laughing. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

The couple wandered out into the village in search of a restaurant. Within minutes they had a table at a place that looked both quiet and somewhat private. The service was impeccable, the food and wine exquisite. For nearly two hours, Jack and Kate forgot about their current lot in life and enjoyed each other’s company immensely. When the check arrived, Jack quickly plunked down three $100 bills, and they wandered back out into the village. The streets were relatively quiet, and Jack led Kate past the fountain plaza and down some stairs to a small parklike area adjacent to Gore Creek. As they strolled toward the pedestrian bridge, Kate stopped to look in the window of a shoe store that had closed hours earlier.

Jack walked up beside her and said, “Didn’t you get enough shopping earlier today?”

“A girl can never have too many shoes, Jack. You should know that.”

They both laughed, turning toward one another. Without another word, they leaned in toward one another and kissed, very gently at first,
and then with more passion, as the isolation, anxiety, and loneliness of the past days thrust them into an emotional storm that made the moment all the more intense.

When the kiss ended, Jack took Kate by the hand, and they strode silently back to the hotel. As they entered the room, an awkward feeling told each of them that this was neither the time nor the place to begin an intimate relationship. They both wanted to, but the events of the past few days that had brought them together were not the foundation of a lasting relationship, or any type of intimate relationship for that matter.

Without a word, Jack grabbed the remote control and flipped on the TV. Channel 9 was a Denver-area affiliate, and the 10:00 news was just beginning. Both Jack and Kate were barely listening, contemplating how to let each other down easily. Those thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the male anchor introduced the top story of the night: an explosion in the parking lot of a downtown Denver hotel.

“A car rented to Jack McCarthy, alleged drug trafficker and former staff member of Senator William S. Hawkins’s presidential campaign, was been completely destroyed, presumably with him in it.”

“Oh, my God!” Kate cried as they rushed toward one another. As they embraced, she trembled. “We killed him. It was our fault.”

“We did,” Jack replied coldly. He would have at least expected Hawkins’s people to verify it was him before rigging the car. Beneath the fear summoned by the vicious act, Jack felt a layer of absolute determination.
Hawkins, you fuck, I’m taking you down
.

G
reg Larson drove his Jeep Grand Cherokee down Lemmon Avenue toward Love Field. As he veered right, crossing Mockingbird onto Marsh Lane, he spotted a number of private jets and finally saw the entrance to the private terminal. He parked his car in a guest space and entered the small building located at the far east side of the airport grounds. Upon entering, Greg was greeted by a man in a black suit, a black tie, and a white shirt with sunglasses hanging around his neck. The prototypical security guy, Greg thought to himself.

The agent clone spoke first. “Greg Larson, I presume?”

“Dr. Stanley,” Greg joked, unable to help himself.

When the man did not react, Greg wondered if he had blown the famous line uttered more than a century ago in Africa. Before he had time to question himself further, the man continued.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a quick check of your bags.” “No problem, I fully expected it.”

The bodyguard thoroughly examined both Greg’s briefcase and his duffel bag. When he was through, he ran each bag through an x-ray machine as a double check.

“Sir, you’re the first one here, but you’re free to board whenever you like.”

The bodyguard escorted Greg out onto the tarmac. As they approached what appeared to be a commercial airliner, Greg realized and kicked himself for expecting that he was riding to Colorado on an ordinary private jet. This plane looked like a custom 737, and he couldn’t wait to check it out. He ascended the stairway to the entrance of the jet and was greeted by a male flight attendant whose nametag read “Rick.”

“Mr. Larson, welcome aboard. Our scheduled departure is in twenty-five minutes. Senator Hawkins and his team should be arriving shortly. Let me show you to your seat.”

The two men entered the plane, passing the cockpit on the left, then went through a short hallway and into the main salon. Greg was in awe. He had never seen anything remotely like this, and they were only in the main cabin. Rick mentioned that the private quarters were in the rear portion of the plane.

“Wow,” Greg said quietly. “It’s like a tour bus on steroids.”

“It is pretty amazing,” Rick responded. “But you get used to it.”

As the two men walked down the aisle, Greg was checking out everything. The main cabin had separate seating areas with what appeared to be mahogany walls separating them. Each area was appointed with leather couches, leather chairs with accompanying ottomans, coffee tables with built-in phones, laptops, and scanners, and a wall of four televisions designated London, New York, Dallas, and Tokyo. The second “den,” as Rick referred to it, was where Greg was supposed to sit.

“Pick any seat,” Rick instructed. “This flight will be relatively empty.”

Greg chose the chair next to the window and settled in. As he stared out the window, he contemplated his interview strategy. How would he confront Will Hawkins? What would the senator’s response be? As the moment arrived, would Greg have the wherewithal to go the distance? All of these questions nagged at him as he noticed three Lincoln Town Cars pull into the parking lot. His heart started to race as Senator Will Hawkins and his entourage exited the vehicles.

Then the adrenaline rush hit him. This was the moment he had waited for since his last Pulitzer. At that very moment, he knew with 100
percent conviction that he was going to nail Will Hawkins’s ass to the wall.

Nevertheless, as Greg watched the entourage confidently cross the tarmac, a sick feeling hit him square in the gut. They were so confident, almost cocky. It appeared to be the Camelot of the next millennium. He couldn’t help a slight feeling of awe. He fervently wished for another time in history that represented hope. But he knew in his heart that Senator Hawkins was a fraud—very polished and a fabulous speaker—but without a shred of sincerity.

The entourage entered the plane. Hawkins was not in front, as Greg had expected. Instead, three men, almost clones of the man who had first met him in the terminal, entered first. It was obvious they were trained bodyguards. When they were satisfied there was no threat, Senator Hawkins strode in. Greg was surprised at his presence: handsome, smiling, clearly in control. Will Hawkins could have just as easily been entering a crowded auditorium. His gait was fast and deliberate, and he walked straight toward Greg.

“Greg, I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you with us on this trip. A journalist of your reputation covering my campaign is an honor and a huge opportunity. Now, having said that, it’s only a bonus if your coverage is favorable.”

Greg started to interrupt with a reporter’s obligatory no-guarantees speech, but Hawkins continued before he had a chance.

“Of course, there are no guarantees. But I do believe you are innately fair, and I am confident that the facts will speak for themselves.”

Greg was thinking to himself what a surprise was in store for Hawkins and his staff. The two men continued their chat for nearly five minutes, covering topics ranging from fly-fishing in Colorado to Hawkins’s stance on a range of public policies. At an appropriate breaking point, Will Hawkins excused himself to visit with other guests and finally adjourned to the back cabin that had a private bedroom and study.

On cue, a female flight attendant, who could have easily passed for a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, asked Greg what he would like to eat and
drink during their flight. While the cuisine sounded delicious by any standard, he passed on the food and ordered a double Grey Goose on the rocks, then reclined, settling in for the two-hour flight. As the plane lifted off the runway at Love Field, Greg couldn’t help smiling. He knew he was on his way to the most explosive interview of his career.