Dev Conrad - 03 - Blindside (3 page)

I wondered if he'd had a stroke. His behavior certainly suggested that. I wasn't alone. The three staffers looked at each other anxiously.

He reached for a silver pitcher of water to fill the glass in front of him. His hand was trembling so badly he dropped the pitcher almost as soon as he started to raise it. It landed hard. Though it was in no danger of spilling, the staffers automatically started to rise in their chairs to grab it.

‘Oh, God,' Lucy half whispered. ‘David, are you—?'

‘What was I saying?' Nolan said as if he was unaware of his strange behavior. ‘Oh – right. Well, I contacted this group of investors who frankly think it's time to do a little business with our side. They know everything's up for grabs in this election but they still think it's time to have a sit-down with somebody we know in the administration. They're willing to spend thirty million dollars on making and airing some generic commercials that favor us. They won't spend it all on our district; they want to make it as national as possible.' He stopped talking. An engine that had run down.

‘What makes this so interesting,' Kathy said quickly, ‘aside from the money is that three of the products they want some federal funding for – they need further research – are very eco-friendly. That means the other party doesn't want anything to do with them. Unfortunately, a lot of our senators and reps are on the same payroll and will vote against us. But I think we've still got enough votes. And David thinks so, too, don't you?'

The smile that was a grimace again. Was he in pain? ‘Right.' His eyes brightened. There was strength in his voice now. ‘I'm hoping we get at least four million. We can put a lot of that into radio and some extra TV.'

Lucy and Waters did the power fist.

‘I'll bet Jeff was happy when he heard about it,' Lucy said.

Nolan's jaw clenched. He said nothing.

‘We haven't had a chance to tell him yet. But he'll be happy as hell. You can bet on it.' Kathy touched Nolan's arm and said, ‘Good work, David.' She was a nurse talking to a very sick patient.

‘Excellent work,' Lucy said in the same way.

The accolades didn't free him from whatever mental prison he was in. The smile was a little less pensive at their words but something troubled him so much that he was barely present.

‘Well,' he said, pushing back from the table. ‘Guess I should get back to work.'

Which made no sense. Wasn't this, what he was doing at the moment, work?

He next did a sight gag, getting his foot tangled in the legs of the chair as he stood up and tried to walk. He almost fell down, righting himself then muttering more to himself than us, ‘I'm fine, I'm fine.' Then he glanced at me. ‘I'm glad you're here, Dev. We need you to help with the debate. It's make or break for us.'

‘Is he all right?' Lucy asked Kathy when he was gone.

‘I think so.' She didn't sound sure. ‘I think maybe the hours he puts in are finally catching up with him. I think he should take two days off and do nothing but rest and go for walks. He loves to walk.'

‘He's usually the one who keeps all of us up and excited,' Lucy said to me. ‘Maybe he really is just tired out.'

But she knew better than that and so did I.

Kathy glanced at me and frowned. ‘This wasn't a very good introduction to our team here, Mr Conrad. I hope the rest of the day goes a lot smoother than this.'

‘No sense hiding it, Kathy,' Waters said. ‘We've had a lot of ups and downs lately. That's just the way it is.'

The two women looked uncomfortable but they said nothing.

I wondered if one of these three was the spy feeding information to Burkhart.

THREE

‘
H
e just looks so presidential,' one older woman said to another standing under the poster of Congressman Jeff Ward leaning back to throw a football à la John Kennedy.

They seemed to be in their Sunday best, right down to small white gloves. They were the kind of women you always saw at weekday Mass. Decent people who'd worked hard for very little all their lives and whose grandparents and parents had indoctrinated them to vote for our party. There was something endearing about them, their old-fashioned coats and dresses and makeup and sweet perfume. They were out of their time and I liked that without quite knowing why. These are the kind of supporters who will bake cookies for fund drives and make arrangements for voters who need rides to the polls. They're invaluable.

Since high school had ended at least an hour ago, the headquarters was also packed with teenagers receiving instructions about getting out posters, signs, pamphlets, and door-to-door reminders about the elections coming up. For all of TV's vaunted powers – and those powers are primary – you still need a ground attack, and that means volunteers who want to win as badly as the candidate does. And if you're sixteen or seventeen and male it means working on a campaign can get you in close proximity to girls – and I suspect it just might work the other way for girls – you might not otherwise meet. Romance was always in the air during campaigns.

The people working the ground floor were as efficient and functional as the people on the second floor seemed not to be. Middle-aged women and men of both blue collar and white sending the kids off to war with repeated orders and smiles.

I drifted back to where three coffeepots burbled. A white-haired woman in a small flowery apron was just setting out a tray of homemade cookies decorated with the word ‘Ward' in red. ‘Help yourself.'

‘Thank you. I think I will.'

‘That is, if you're planning to vote for Congressman Ward.'

‘I would if he was in my district but I vote in Chicago.'

‘Well, I guess that entitles you to a cookie, anyway. My name's Joan Rosenberg. I run the kitchen back there.'

‘You're obviously doing a great job.'

‘They'll be gone in less than twenty minutes. And that'll make me very happy.' A wry smile. ‘On one campaign I worked on a long time ago back in the sixties, the only people who'd eat my cookies were the ones who smoked marijuana. I think the older people were thinking I put some pot in my cookies. My husband's a rabbi. He sure didn't want people to think his wife was making illegal cookies.' She laughed. ‘I'd be on
America's Most Wanted
.'

It was nice to bask in her goodwill and intelligence. Not to mention her lack of cunning. A gentle, sweet woman of the kind who always turns out for campaigns. They have ideals and support them with hard work. And none of the cynicism of the professionals rubs off on them.

I followed her eyes to the door that led to the back. Jim Waters was making his way toward us.

‘Hi, Jim. They're just out of the oven.' She pointed to the cookies.

By now I'd had my first bite. I held it up as if I was in a commercial. ‘This is terrific.'

I noticed that she put her hand on Waters' shoulder as he bent to whisk a cookie from the plate. I also noticed that the merriment in her brown eyes changed to concern. She looked maternal watching him, patting him a few times as he straightened up.

As he took his first taste he said, ‘You never miss, Joan. This is great.' But despite his words the round face, not quite adult but not quite teenager either, sagged into an expression of hurt, maybe even loss. I'd focused on his anger upstairs. Now I saw what was behind the anger.

‘How're you doing today, Jim? Better than yesterday?'

These two had a history. She wanted to be brought up to date. Obviously she'd been thinking about him.

‘Yeah. A little better, I guess.'

He glanced at me. I realized I was in the way. I finished my cookie and grabbed my paper cup of coffee. ‘Guess I'll wander back up front. Thanks very much for the cookie.' I nodded to Waters. ‘Maybe we should have dinner tonight if you've got time.'

He looked surprised, then suspicious. ‘Yeah, maybe.'

Up front several teenagers were trying to hang a large
WARD. FOR THE PEOPLE.
sign that would stretch from one side of the large room to the other. They were having a good time, especially the couples who were flirting and joking.

I walked up to the front window and looked out at the street. People were starting to drive home from work. Traffic clogged the four-lane avenue. As the front door opened and closed I could smell autumn again and it made me wonder what my college senior daughter was doing. Unlike me she was a sports fan. She loved football games especially. She never wanted for dates to games or any kind of social events, not only having inherited her mother's brains but also her good looks. Then I thought of what Tom Ward said about how consultants make less than ideal fathers. Even though she'd lived with her mother except for the month she spent with me every summer, she loved me enough to forgive me and we were now not only father and daughter but true friends.

Then a voice said, ‘I'll take you up on that dinner, Dev. And I won't be such a shit.' Even his grin was glum. ‘You just kind of scared me, I guess.'

‘I'm pretty harmless, Jim. Nobody's going to lose his or her job.'

He tried to make a joke of it. ‘Well, I'm too important to fire, right? A big shot like me?'

‘You're probably right. I read some of the recent speeches you wrote for Ward. They're excellent.'

‘Oh, hell, they weren't anything special.' He waved my words away, looking uncomfortable. ‘I wrote better ones last year.'

I gave him my card. ‘I'll be eating at the hotel tonight. Just give me a call.'

‘I will. I – I've got some things we need to talk about.' Another awkward look, and then he swung around and headed quick and dead-on to the door.

As he left I got another scent of Halloween season. Then I happened to notice the blonde in the silver Porsche. She was almost directly across from me so I got a good look at her face. She was one of those fashionable country club women, all blonde and sculpted and self-reverent, like a sexual icon you could admire but never know. Just now she raised a camera with a long lens to her face and began snapping away. Since Waters was the only person on the street and since her lens moved with him as he walked, there was no doubt he was her subject.

She adjusted the lens once then put the camera down. Half a minute later she shot out of her parking space and bulleted into traffic. I'd already written the license number down.

Who would be following Waters to photograph him? I felt pretty certain she wasn't federal or local law. I also felt certain that he was in trouble of some kind.

‘Ready for another cookie?'

I had to pry my gaze from the street. What the hell was going on? ‘Don't mind if I do.' I pointed to the nearly empty pan. ‘You're beating your best time. It's been about ten minutes and they're almost gone.'

‘As I said, that makes me happy. I'm an empty nester. We had three kids and they're all grown and gone now. This brings them back. Sort of.'

I took a bite. I hoped the hotel food was this good. ‘Did Jim talk about me?'

‘Yes.' Her brow tightened. ‘He's afraid you'll get him fired. I hope that's not true.'

‘It isn't. Not in any way.'

She sighed and mimed fanning herself. ‘Whoosh. Good. I've gotten to know him over the past month and a half. I just feel sorry for him. He lost his brother in a boating accident three years ago, he told me. But I'm sure it goes back before that. He's the nerdy boy who tells you how superior he is every once in a while. You know, being defensive. I've seen him once or twice try to come on to women around here and it's painful to watch. People are so cruel to him and he doesn't know how to defend himself. He's so down on himself and people sense that and they make jokes about him. A lot of the time to his face.'

‘Has he ever said anything to you about being in trouble?'

She set the last three cookies on a plate then picked up the metal sheet she'd baked them on. ‘That's a strange question.' She now took the time to examine me. ‘I don't know if I should be talking about anything . . . private.'

‘I've spent a little time with him and noticed that he seems worried about something. Innocent question. My name's Dev Conrad, by the way. I'm working with the campaign for a few days.'

She stood the cookie sheet on its end and set her hands on it. ‘He had tears in his eyes the other day. I asked him what was wrong. And I thought it was funny because he wouldn't tell me. He just shrugged and said maybe it would all work out. He usually tells me everything. Or at least that was the impression I had. He might have been holding a lot back from me all this time. I can't be sure. But whatever this was it made him very upset. I'd never seen him quite that way, really depressed. Later I saw him up at the front window, staring out at the street. I walked up to him. He jerked away from me. I'd really scared him. I felt sorry for embarrassing him because people started looking at him. I know he was mad at me for a few minutes so I walked away. I really felt that I'd betrayed him in some way.'

The street. The Porsche. Being followed. So he'd been aware of it. Would he bolt if I brought up any of this tonight over dinner? There was definitely a spy in the campaign. I wasn't sure what he was involved in but I wouldn't be surprised if he was the man I was looking for.

‘Thanks very much, Joan.'

She held her cookie sheet in front of her like a shield. ‘Just be easy with him, Dev. He needs all the friends he can get.'

As I nodded and walked away, I wondered if he had any special friends in the Burkhart camp.

FOUR

T
here was a café in the hotel where I was staying. Before going up to my room I decided to have another cup of coffee. I'm one of the lucky ones. I don't have any trouble taking a nap after a day's worth of regular coffee. And a nap was what I was planning.