The Next President (39 page)

Del Rawley took the stage at the South Coast Symphony Hall. The audience gave him a standing ovation. It went on and on until Del urged everyone to take their seats.

“You do me too much honor,” Del said, his voice thick with emotion. He cleared his throat.

“Before I get into the substance of my remarks, I’d like to introduce to you the man who made it possible for me to be here today—the man who made it possible for me to be anywhere today. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. J. D. Cade.”

J. D. stepped a few paces onto the stage as the audience rose to its feet again and buried him under an avalanche of applause. Jenny had persuaded him that he’d have to face the media sooner or later and it was better to do it on his own terms. He waved and smiled, intending to stay for only a moment before exiting, but Del Rawley extended a hand to him, compelling J. D. to join the candidate at center stage. Once he was there, Del triumphantly raised J. D.‘s hand.

J. D. looked into the wings and saw Jenny. She was clapping, too. If you only knew, J. D. thought. If all of you only knew. Then he noticed DeVito and it was instantly clear to him that maybe one of them already did know.

Del lowered J. D.‘s hand and in a moment the audience was seated again.

“Mr. Cade,” Del told him, “this is your opportunity to speak to the world.”

The candidate stepped back to give J. D. the lectern to himself. He looked out at the crowd and it seemed vast to him. He saw the red

light of a television camera on him and knew he’d be seen by more people than he could meet in ten lifetimes. He felt naked and revealed.

He began by saying, “I’m far more scared today than I was yesterday.”

The audience laughed appreciatively.

“I can’t say I’m a hero, and I won’t say it,” J. D. continued.

“I’m the furthest thing possible from a hero. I acted without thinking…. I…” At a loss for words, he could only shrug. Then he turned to Del.

“I found myself in a situation not of my own making and I really had no choice about what happened next. I had to react the way I did.”

J. D. looked back at the audience and smiled ruefully.

“I wish I could say I was more noble… but I’m really not a very good liar.”

J. D. stepped back from the lectern and Rawley put his arm around J. D.‘s shoulders as another round of applause filled the room. Del whispered to

J. D.”

“Brief and self-effacing. Very nice, Mr. Cade. If not a liar, you certainly have the makings of a fine politician.”

“Coming from you, Senator, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Please do.”

Del raised J. D.‘s hand one more time and then let him depart to further applause.

J. D. took with him an important new piece of information.

When Del Rawley had put his arm around him, J. D. had felt something hard.

He was sure the candidate had a gun in his pocket.

“You can’t be serious,” Jenny Crenshaw said into her PCR ninety minutes later as the motorcade headed for Anaheim. This time she rode with Del Rawley, who looked on with interest as Jenny talked to her opposite number, Ronald Turlock, the incumbent’s campaign manager.

“I’m entirely serious,” Turlock replied.

“The president has agreed to the senator’s invitation, but he feels that implicit in that invitation the senator is questioning either his honesty or his man—” Turlock remembered to whom he was speaking.

“Or his courage.”

“So you expect Senator Rawley to make his first appearance with the incumbent at an outdoor venue. The Secret Service would never allow it.”

Turlock laughed.

“Come, come, Ms. Crenshaw. They may hate it, but they have no choice except to go along. What else can they do, resign?

Wouldn’t be good at all for their image. No, if the senator doesn’t wish to appear, then there may be a problem with his… courage. And we may have to rethink this whole matter of campaigning jointly.”

“Hold on,” Jenny snapped, and pushed the hold button.

“What is it?” Del asked.

“The president has booked the Hollywood Bowl—for tomorrow night!”

Del considered the situation, a grim smile on his lips.

“They don’t think I’ll do it.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s a cold-blooded attempt to put your life in jeopardy.”

“Or to make me look like the coward. Somebody on the president’s side has just pushed their whole pile of chips to the center of the table, and they’re hoping I won’t call their bet.”

“You shouldn’t,” Jenny repeated.

“You should denounce this as the cynical political move it is. People will understand.”

Del shook his head.

“No, they won’t. Remember what our motto is these days: This campaign will not be stopped. Well, that’s just what refusing the president’s choice of venues would do, stop us dead. The campaign would be finished.”

“Even if it came to that… better the campaign should die than you.”

Being confronted that starkly gave Del pause, but only for a moment.

He’d committed himself to a course of action. The only thing he could do now was pray he’d come out of it alive.

“Tell the man we’ll be there,” he said quietly.

“You can’t—” “Tell him, Jenny.”

“Del, for Christ’s sake!”

The candidate took the PCR from his campaign manager and tapped the talk key.

“Mr. Turlock?”

“Yes?”

“This is Senator Rawley. We accept. The Hollywood Bowl it is. And Mr.

Turlock?”

“Yes, Senator?”

“Please let the president know that since this was all my idea, I’ll extend to him the courtesy of speaking first. He can say his piece, take however long he likes, and I’ll wait patiently to reply.”

Del Rawley clicked off before Turlock could respond.

“There,” he told Jenny.

“If we’re gonna do this thing outside, that little prick can sweat being in the spotlight first. I’ll wait in the shadows.”

“Better yet, sit right behind him.”

“Why?”

“That way if someone wants to shoot you, the bullet has to go through him.”

Del gave his campaign manager a look and then laughed long and loud.

“What?” Jenny asked.

“It wasn’t that funny.”

The candidate rubbed a tear of mirth from his eye.

“I think you’ve got it backward. The more politicians you lined up to kill with one shot, the more people you’d have shooting at them.”

Shooting at us, he corrected himself privately. Then Del’s thoughts of mortality were brushed aside by an important political concern.

“About the tickets for tomorrow night at the Bowl—” “Don’t let the incumbent pack the house.”

“Exactly.”

“That was one of the first lessons in politics I ever learned, Del. Get at least half the tickets and make sure they’re where your people can be seen and heard.

But for tomorrow night I think I’m going to demand something different.”

“What?”

“I think I’m going to have all the seats filled with Secret Service agents, and I’m going to ask the city’ to bulldoze all the hills within a five-mile radius of the venue.”

Del smiled. He put a hand on his campaign manager’s shoulder.

“I’m going to be all right, Jenny. Tomorrow and the day after that. We’re going to win this election. I’m going to be president. I’ll do some good things for our country, and then I’m going to retire and watch my grandchildren and their children grow up. When my time comes, they’re going to find me sitting under a shade tree next to a stream with a rod and reel in my hand and a fish on the end of my line.”

“Yeah… okay. Meanwhile, I’ll die of a heart attack tomorrow night.”

“Now, that’d make me sad,” Del said, shaking his head gravely.

“That’d be about the only thing that could keep me from winning this election.”

Jenny laughed.

“I’d slug you if you didn’t have so damn many bodyguards around.”

“You don’t have to; I beat myself up every day.”

Del gave Jenny a wink and then called his wife to let her know that he’d be speaking outdoors again tomorrow night, exposing himself to the world and all its madmen.

After the speech in Anaheim, Jenny rode with J. D. this time as the motorcade made its way back to Los Angeles. He said, “Explain something to me.”

“What?”

“Why is it good that Senator Rawley will be campaigning with the

president? If the president had refused the challenge, okay, then he’s a coward or a liar. But by accepting hasn’t he, in the public’s eyes, called Senator Rawley’s bluff? I didn’t think of that when I suggested the idea.”

Jenny took J. D.‘s hand, privately glad that he didn’t understand politics as well as he’d seemed to at first. It wouldn’t do to have gifted amateurs ruining things for the pros.

“Your idea was win-win,” she told him.

“If the president ducked Del’s challenge, he would, as you said, undercut himself. But by accepting he was forced to do what every politician hates most: jump through a hoop set up by his opponent. So that’s one point for Del right there, and when Del gets the president onstage with him he’s going to demolish the man. That’s what we were so happy about when we heard the news.”

“So everything’s looking good?” J. D. asked.

Jenny frowned.

“What?” J. D. wanted to know.

“The president’s side just made us jump through a hoop.” She told J. D. that the first joint appearance would be outdoors and asked, “Have you ever been to the Hollywood Bowl?”

“Sure. Back when I had an intact family, we’d come to town two or three times a year to hear a concert there. We’d stay over in a hotel, do some shopping, make a weekend out of it.”

“Would the Bowl be a risky place, do you think, for Del to speak?”

“Could be,” J. D. said, thinking about it.

“There are lots of trees around the Bowl, and there are hills around it, too. Could be a place where… you know, someone could take a shot. If not at the stage, then at one of the approaches to the Bowl.”

“I want to check it out. Will you help me?”

J. D. frowned.

“Jenny, if both candidates are going to speak there, you can bet the Secret Service will be swarming all over the place.”

“They were swarming everywhere in Chicago, too, but Del almost got killed. And frankly, I don’t trust that sonofabitch who’s the head of the protection detail now. He looks… I don’t know. Maybe not crazy, but not completely right.”

“I don’t care for the man myself,” J. D. agreed, thinking of Roth.

“But if you want to go scouting—when, tonight?” She nodded.

“We’re going to need some kind of official escort.”

“Who?”

J. D. smiled thinly.

“How about that guy DeVito who thinks so much of me?”

“Him?”

“Yeah. He might be up for it.”

The Rawley campaign settled in for the night at the Century Plaza Hotel in Los Angeles. J. D.” despite having a new home in town, took a room at Jenny’s suggestion. She said she’d like him to be close in case she needed to … talk to him.

Del informed Jenny that his wife might be flying out to join him, despite his wish that she remain at home and out of harm’s way.

And DeVito was recruited to accompany Jenny and J. D. on their scouting trip to the Hollywood Bowl. The special agent was surprised that it was Cade’s idea that he accompany them, but then he thought that Cade using him for a cover was possibly the sneakiest thing the bastard could do.

DeVito did agree not to mention their little expedition to Roth.

Using a government car, DeVito drove Jenny and J. D. up to Mulholland Drive, the road at the crest of the Hollywood Hills. He saw a turnout between Cahuenga and Outpost and pulled over. No sooner had the three of them exited the car than an LAPD unit pulled in behind them. Two cops got out of the black-and-white. One approached them, while the other stayed at the patrol car with his gun drawn.

DeVito announced who he was and showed his ID to the cop. Then he introduced Jenny and J. D. The cop, a sergeant whose name tag read DE LA HOYA, informed DeVito “At the request of your agency, we’re keeping a tight watch on all the sites overlooking the Bowl. But we were told not to expect any of you people until tomorrow morning.”

“Ms. Crenshaw wanted to take a look for herself this evening,” DeVito explained.

“Make sure security is up to snuff.”

“After Chicago, I worry,” Jenny elaborated.

“Don’t blame you, ma’am. And this other gentleman with you is here be asked him to be. He’s the one who thought we should bring Mr. DeVito along.”

“That was a real good idea, sir. Saved us all a lot of trouble.” The cop turned to DeVito

“Mighta saved us even more if you’d called ahead to let us know you were coming.”

“That’s my fault. Sergeant,” Jenny intervened.

“I wanted to see what would happen if we appeared unannounced.”

The cop looked like he had to bite his tongue. Then he said, “Well, I

guess now you know. You folks going to be doing any more snoo—looking around?”

“If you don’t mind. Just a little.”

The cop nodded, not happy.

“I’ll have to inform our people up here.

Wouldn’t want anyone to get nervous and make a mistake.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” J. D. agreed.

The cops got back in their car and De La Hoya spent a minute on his radio.

He was looking at DeVito and nodding. Then they drove off, not bothering to wave goodbye.

DeVito said, “The sarge just checked me out. Made sure I’m for real.

Roth’ll know soon if he doesn’t already.”

“Hard to keep a secret these days,” J. D. told him.

Now DeVito was the one who had to bite his tongue.

Jenny watched the two of them for a second, then looked down at the stage of the Hollywood Bowl. The two men joined her at the overlook, one on either side of her.

“Could Del be shot from here?” she asked.

J. D. shook his head.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Yeah, Mr. Cade,” DeVito added.

“What would you know about such things?”

“I know that we were braced by those cops two seconds after we stepped out of our car. What do you think they would have done if one of us had a weapon in his hand?” J. D. turned to Jenny. He inclined his head toward the hillside that fell off sharply below them. It was covered with thick vegetation.