The Means (22 page)

50

Evelyn feels that her husband shouldn't have to stoop to a debate with this young man from North Carolina. Pauley's presence on the same stage as Mitchell is an undeserved badge of honor that she would never have bestowed, and for Mitchell actually to have to defend his record of four years is so distasteful that the mere act of it is a political downside. And it's just a pain in the ass. They belong in the White House, not in some godforsaken convention center in Florida, forced into a circus to answer challenges from a novice from the cheap seats.

Evelyn and Mitchell sit on a couch in a room identical to Pauley's but on the other wing of the backstage hallway. They both have legs crossed, his elevated foot pointing away and in the opposite direction from hers. They're not in love but they're loyal as hell in other matters. It's a partnership and it's effective and they both have decided it's more than many marriages have.

It's 8:30 p.m. Thirty minutes to go. “Remember who you are, dear.”

Mitchell knows exactly how she means this. It's not a reference to a moral compass or values or anything in his character. It's a reference to a title. You're the goddamned president of the United States. Go out there and act like it and send this charlatan back where he came from. It's the kind of support that Mitchell expects and appreciates from Evelyn.

None of the aides approach Mason. He's made it clear over the years that at moments like this he doesn't want anyone in his ear. They all have had plenty of time for that and now he wants an hour of quiet and calm. He sits up straight and closes his eyes and experiments if he can think of nothing at all.

“Ten minutes, Mr. President,” says Ron Stark from the doorway. He says it in the lowest possible tone and there is complete silence from the dozen people in the room so his voice carries to the president.

Mason nods and keeps his eyes closed. He waits two more minutes, then stands, kisses Evelyn, and takes quick steps to the door. Evelyn will go directly to the seats in the audience and Stark will walk with Mason to the east edge of the debate stage to wait for introductions.

Stark says, “Randy Newhope's piece will run tomorrow so we're out in front of that issue. Given that and what we have on Pauley, it should be a nonissue for us going forward.”

Their dress shoes knock the concrete floors as they pass Secret Service who whisper into their jacket lapels. Mason and Stark stop at the edge of the stage and look across the empty podiums to see Pauley and his wife already waiting and holding hands at the opposite edge of the stage.

The lighting is dim but enough to make eye contact. They do, and after a moment of a stare down that Mason is determined not to lose, Pauley winks at him.

“That cheeky little son of a bitch,” Mason whispers to Stark.

“Sir, remember, this is likely to come up early. You need to jam him, right up front. Jam him hard. Outraged and indignant.”

Mason nods. That wink was plenty enough to outrage him.

51

“We welcome President Mitchell Mason and Governor Tom Pauley,” says the debate moderator, David Hennings. The crowd stands for their one chance at applause. There are twelve hundred folding chairs arranged in the auditorium which is a lot for a general election debate audience but not many for this room to hold. It allows plenty of space for media equipment and security buffers.

The two men advance from opposite sides of the stage and shake hands with the right and also grip each other's right biceps with the left. They manage to coordinate an untangling of this, then shake hands with Hennings, Mason first.

The format is for the two men to stand at podiums with David Hennings seated at a table in front of them. Hennings asks a question and each man is given two minutes to respond, followed by five minutes of discussion before the next question. The candidates alternate who gets the first two-minute response. A coin flip has determined that Mason will respond first to the first question.

“Mr. President, this question is new to the campaigns, and I'm going to give you the opportunity to address it here and now. About an hour ago, UBS released the byline for a story they will run tomorrow detailing allegations that you were involved in a hit-and-run incident some thirteen years ago that led to a fatality. Would you please comment on these allegations and on what impact this may have on your presidency?” Hennings and his team had been in shouting matches for the last hour about whether to use this question. It is sensational and maybe a cheap shot, but it is from UBS and real news that's out there and he felt he had an obligation to address it. It would also guarantee the greatest debate moment in history.

Tom's face muscles go slack and his lips part as his jaw relaxes. He looks from Hennings to the president. His mind is no longer debating. He's a spectator like everyone else. What the hell is going on here?

Mason leans into the podium. He looks ready to strike and happy about it. “First of all, David, let me say that the idea that you would open a national debate for the presidency of the United States with such a baseless and scurrilous allegation, thereby giving it credence, is disgraceful.” He stops and points right at Hennings. “You should be ashamed of yourself. As for UBS, both their timing and their reporting are shameful and irresponsible. This is not journalism.”

The president is rolling. The words are coming easily but don't sound rehearsed. He sounds pissed off. He continues, “Second of all, let me do a bit of journalism for you. This report was concocted by Samantha Davis at UBS-24. The same Samantha Davis who is a former litigator at Davis Polk.” Mason turns and stretches an upturned palm toward Tom to introduce him to the conversation. “My opponent, Governor Pauley, is also a former litigator at Davis Polk. David, you've given me no choice but to level this true charge to defend myself against a false one. It is a fact that Governor Pauley and Samantha Davis were lovers. I can't comment on the present.”

The president changes his tone from indignant to compassionate. His shoulders back off the podium a few inches. He lifts his eyebrows and looks apologetic. “I'm not interested in anyone's personal affairs, but I will not be a victim of such outrageous media bias.”

The president nods to Hennings, giving back the floor, satisfied that seventy million people around the country are as stunned as Hennings and Pauley. UBS had disclosed in the report that Samantha Davis and Tom Pauley briefly dated during their time together at Davis Polk. Samantha had called the Pauley campaign to give them notice that this disclosure would be made. Samantha had left four messages with campaign staff and had stressed that the message was urgent but the messages were treated the same as the many other calls from media organizations that want time with the candidate. Pauley's staff never passed on the message and figured he'd return the call when he wanted to make an appearance on UBS.

Hennings's job is easy. “Governor Pauley?”

Poor Tom actually has to have a response. What the hell just happened? He was still replaying the words
hit-and-run fatality
in his head when he got clobbered by the Samantha Davis affair.

“Well.” He clears his throat, even bringing a fist to his mouth as he does it. He knows he's already lost the composure war. The president looked sure of himself and indignant. Tom looks lost and confused. Regardless of facts, people will walk away with that visual. “I can't comment on the hit-and-run allegations. I'm sure authorities will pursue a thorough investigation and the facts will come out. If in fact President Mason has committed a homicide, we'll deal with that eventuality but there is no sense in hypothesizing on such a matter at this point.” Tom is glad he got the word
homicide
into his response.

Tom sips his water then looks back at Hennings. “Regarding the other matter, Samantha Davis was an excellent lawyer and, to my knowledge, is a fair journalist. I've had no contact with her in many years. She and I had a friendship and briefly dated many years ago.” This has the same evidential effect on the audience as playing the sex tape. Given that Samantha is an on-air reporter with a well-known face, the imagery is complete.

It's the truthful answer and Tom believes that should be the end of it but knows it won't be. He's never mentioned Samantha to Alison because it wasn't worth mentioning. They both met people after law school and before they were married and neither Tom nor Alison wanted to give or receive a full accounting of that period. Now he's angry about the humiliation he knows she must be feeling only a couple dozen feet away from him.

He and Samantha haven't spoken but had been on good terms and he's angry that she didn't let him know this was coming.

Hennings is back in control. “Thank you, gentlemen. We will forgo the five-minute discussion period on this topic and move right to the next question.”

The debate moves to the economy where Pauley presses that the number of unemployed and people on welfare is up and that the economy is stalling. Mason counters that the price of gas is down, the stock market and GDP are up, and that the economy is strong.

On foreign policy, Pauley argues that our military is less capable and that our alliances around the world are less close. Mason argues the opposite.

Nobody cares. Pundits are already halfway through the draft of their editorials and viewers are still recovering and it's all about the first two minutes of the debate.

52

“What the fuck, Peter! What the fuck!” Tom has kicked everyone out of the backstage room at the convention center but it makes no difference. They can hear his shouts from the hallway. He takes the seat back of a metal chair and flings it into the wall, losing his balance like a bad golfer. “Why was I the only asshole out there who didn't know what was going on?”

“I'm sorry, Tom. I'm sorry. The UBS thing hit late. Hennings had it. I don't know how Mason was prepared.”

“Should I tell them my dog ate my homework, Peter?”

“Okay, okay.” Peter has both hands up with palms forward like he's trying to push Tom's anger into a box. “There are two issues here, so let's think this through. First is the hit-and-run with Mason. The president could face jail time if this is real. I'll make sure we're completely informed on the investigation.”

“Good.” Tom is pissed but he's done throwing chairs.

“The second matter is this thing with Samantha Davis.”

Tom sits and breathes hard out his nose.

“What was the nature of the relationship?”

“We dated for about three weeks; it started while we were working a case together. It was before I was married, she wasn't married, it was innocent fooling around.”

“Okay.” Peter crosses his arms and walks in a wide circle. “Okay.” He keeps walking then stops by Tom. “Tom, I have to say this is an area where you could have been more free with the information.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she's in the media now. We might have booked an interview with her and we should know that ahead of time.”

“I would have said something before it came to that. We're not booking a lot of interviews with freshman correspondents.”

“Have you had any correspondence with her in the last several years?”

“None.”

“Mason's going to try to show that you have.”

“Let him try.”

“Alright. Look, the press will have some fun with this for a while, but there's no impropriety so it'll blow itself out pretty fast.”

“Fine.”

“So let's drop that for now. All of this is out of our hands. His scandal is the much bigger issue and the facts are going to fall, but probably not until after the election.”

Tom's mind hadn't worked its way around to that yet. “True.”

“So this election will hinge on whether or not that scandal is believable. And which campaign can spend more to make it so.”

Tom nods. Everything the election was about two hours ago no longer matters.

“He has a real scandal. You just have a bad TV moment. That footage with you looking like you just swallowed a cockroach is going to play in every battleground state around the clock. That imagery is going to be tough, but only in the short term.” Brand continues, “If this allegation on Mason holds any water, nobody will care about an affair. Mason's had a million of them anyway. If the hit-and-run isn't immediately discredited, if it can stay in the news cycle for a week, then Mason will lose this election.”

53

“Pitch perfect, Mr. President,” says Stark. “You knocked the scandal on its heels and turned the focus right around to Samantha Davis and Pauley.” Stark believes they can no longer win the election but he can't start talking that way.

“Man, it felt good to unload. On Hennings too. What a twerp that guy is.”

“You had better intelligence than anyone out there. Nobody else had the complete story.” Stark notes the value add of his sources.

“It's working. For now,” says Mason.

Stark and Mason are back in their debate prep room, having a similar meeting as Brand and Pauley. Mason also evacuated the rest of his staff to talk in private with Stark. Both men are standing with hearts beating too fast to sit down.

“Here's what we know,” says Stark. “There are numerous correspondences, email and handwritten, between you and Monica Morris. They easily have established a romantic link between you two.”

The president picks up an unopened bottle of water and throws it into the trash. He's annoyed he ever put anything in writing to Monica. “So what. I had a romance, he has a romance plus conspiracy with the media to set me up.”

“There's no evidence yet that they've been in collusion, but we'll certainly play it that way.”

“They're lovers, for Christ's sake,” says Mason, getting into the narrative he wants.

“It's going to look like a conspiracy only if we can cast enough doubt that you had any role in the hit-and-run. So far it's not a very strong criminal case.”

“Of course not.”

“Public opinion is something else. There's enough there to raise eyebrows.”

“Like what?”

“There's an unsolved roadside death in Jupiter. A guy on a bicycle hit by a car. At a time when correspondence confirms you were with Monica in Jupiter. Driving from a dinner in Palm Beach.”

“Fuck.”

“Look, all that is circumstantial. That's why I say it's a weak criminal case, but the fact is it doesn't have good optics for you.” Stark sips his water bottle. “There's no real evidence, so a lot will depend on how this woman presents. She hasn't owned the car in question for eleven years and nobody has located it yet. Might be in scrap parts by now. There were no witnesses. There are no traces of anything anymore on the roadside where the body was found. We'll paint old Monica as a crackpot.” Stark shrugs his shoulders. “If she can come across as credible, she can do real harm, though.”

“Christ.”

“The real issue is that there's a news peg based on the affair that's already established. If she just turned up with a fourteen-year-old hit-and-run story and nothing else, this would never make it to your doorstep. We'd only have the piece from the
Standard
to contend with. But once Monica's on camera about an affair, she can go on about whatever the hell she wants. Apparently she's decided to go after this.”

The president drops into the sofa, leaning forward over his lap with bent elbows pressed against his thighs. The adrenaline is still flowing but turning to nausea and causing a metallic and inflexible feeling in his muscles. Mitchell is silent.

“Sir, it's all a he-said, she-said. We just need to outspin the other team. The public likes you. Hanging a homicide around your neck is going to be a tough sell.” Stark needs to say this to his candidate but he doubts the message is true. He knows the only sell that needs to be achieved is to cast enough doubt around the allegation to swing only a few percent of the voters.

The president stands to his full height, remembering who he is. In a soft voice he says, “Ron, you need to crush her. Crush Monica Morris and then crush Samantha Davis. Then I want you to take their blood and guts and smear it on Pauley.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You need to make the connection between Pauley and Samantha Davis. You understand me? You need to make the connection.”

Only a few weeks to November sixth. “Yes, sir.”