and medically challenged? Only by the grace of Senator Cap Marlowe had word of Austin Stone’s vasectomy remained out of the news.
Sam had managed to attack Sybil Stone publicly with monotonous regularity on various issues—and he would continue to attack her publicly as long as he remained on the Hill and had access to the inside information Cap Marlowe provided him. According to Marcus Gilbert, Cap was one of the good guys, who skillfully and strategically got things done without stomping on any toes to do them. Cap-didn’t use the public’s emotions against the press. Sybil Stone did. For that, Sam admired him and hated her.
He rocked back in his chair in the White House Press Room. The place was crowded with reporters and correspondents, all watching the clock hoping for something newsworthy after such a long delay. The briefing had been set for three, but it was now nearly five, and the press secretary, as well as the rest of the White House staff, was still avoiding the room as if it had been quarantined. Something serious was up. Sam sensed it in the staff’s frenzied activity, in the edgy expectation that hung like a pending executionover the press corps. Even Barber, who typically would sell his soul to give Sam a scoop—provided it showcased the White House and Lance in a good light or made the opposition look bad—was in squelch mode.
The cell phone vibrated against his hip. Sam yanked it from its case. “Sayelle.”
“We have assassinated your vice president. Other organizations claim credit, but they only seek recognition by your media. PUSH holds the honor of actually killing her.”
Sam’s throat went thick. “So why are you calling me?”
“Because you hate her.”
A click and the line went dead.
White House Chief of Staff Richard Barber clipped the corner and nearly smacked into Sam.
“Hey I just got a report that PUSH assassinated Vice President Stone.”
“Not now, Sam.” Barber spared him a rattled glance but didn’t even break his stride before disappearing behind closed doors.
Barber was a genuine piece of work: a cynic’s dream, a real American’s nightmare. He stayed on alert, always vying for position and looking for ways to cement his future and advance his career. For some reason, he wasn’t just making himself scarce right now, he was deliberately avoiding Sam. But there was one person Barber wouldn’t dare try to avoid—not if he still had serious aspirations of being appointed to a key position in the future leader’s administration: Senator Cap Marlowe.
Sam left the press room and headed to the senator’s office. Odds were that he had already left for the day, though it depended on what had everyone in such an uproar.
Could Sybil Stone really be dead?
As chairman of the Armed Services Committee, the senator kept a permanent finger on the Hill’s pulse. Cap had been on the Hill as long as Sam had been alive. Fortunately, he had been a Marcus Gilbert fan, and Marcus hadintroduced Sam, suggesting he keep an eye on the senator. The introduction had given Sam a key contact.
Why Marcus had bothered, Sam had no idea. Maybe it was out of loyalty to the
Herald
, or maybe he’d just awakened feeling gregarious that morning. Hell, Sam didn’t know. Gilbert was a crotchety old man who firmly believed women shouldn’t hold public office. Until the day he retired, he refused to meet, interview, or write one word about any of them. None wasted her breath to complain. Marcus had a lot of friends on the Hill and a very long memory. It was highly unlikely he ever in his life had done anything out of the kindness of his heart. After thirty years on the Hill, he no longer had a heart.
Whatever the reason, Sam wasn’t one to kick a gift horse in the mouth. He had nurtured the relationship since the beginning, and it had been beneficial to him and the
Herald
, and to Cap Marlowe.
Cap looked out for Sam, opened doors for him, and, on more than one occasion, leaked information
Sam had managed to attack Sybil Stone publicly with monotonous regularity on various issues—and he would continue to attack her publicly as long as he remained on the Hill and had access to the inside information Cap Marlowe provided him. According to Marcus Gilbert, Cap was one of the good guys, who skillfully and strategically got things done without stomping on any toes to do them. Cap-didn’t use the public’s emotions against the press. Sybil Stone did. For that, Sam admired him and hated her.
He rocked back in his chair in the White House Press Room. The place was crowded with reporters and correspondents, all watching the clock hoping for something newsworthy after such a long delay. The briefing had been set for three, but it was now nearly five, and the press secretary, as well as the rest of the White House staff, was still avoiding the room as if it had been quarantined. Something serious was up. Sam sensed it in the staff’s frenzied activity, in the edgy expectation that hung like a pending executionover the press corps. Even Barber, who typically would sell his soul to give Sam a scoop—provided it showcased the White House and Lance in a good light or made the opposition look bad—was in squelch mode.
The cell phone vibrated against his hip. Sam yanked it from its case. “Sayelle.”
“We have assassinated your vice president. Other organizations claim credit, but they only seek recognition by your media. PUSH holds the honor of actually killing her.”
Sam’s throat went thick. “So why are you calling me?”
“Because you hate her.”
A click and the line went dead.
White House Chief of Staff Richard Barber clipped the corner and nearly smacked into Sam.
“Hey I just got a report that PUSH assassinated Vice President Stone.”
“Not now, Sam.” Barber spared him a rattled glance but didn’t even break his stride before disappearing behind closed doors.
Barber was a genuine piece of work: a cynic’s dream, a real American’s nightmare. He stayed on alert, always vying for position and looking for ways to cement his future and advance his career. For some reason, he wasn’t just making himself scarce right now, he was deliberately avoiding Sam. But there was one person Barber wouldn’t dare try to avoid—not if he still had serious aspirations of being appointed to a key position in the future leader’s administration: Senator Cap Marlowe.
Sam left the press room and headed to the senator’s office. Odds were that he had already left for the day, though it depended on what had everyone in such an uproar.
Could Sybil Stone really be dead?
As chairman of the Armed Services Committee, the senator kept a permanent finger on the Hill’s pulse. Cap had been on the Hill as long as Sam had been alive. Fortunately, he had been a Marcus Gilbert fan, and Marcus hadintroduced Sam, suggesting he keep an eye on the senator. The introduction had given Sam a key contact.
Why Marcus had bothered, Sam had no idea. Maybe it was out of loyalty to the
Herald
, or maybe he’d just awakened feeling gregarious that morning. Hell, Sam didn’t know. Gilbert was a crotchety old man who firmly believed women shouldn’t hold public office. Until the day he retired, he refused to meet, interview, or write one word about any of them. None wasted her breath to complain. Marcus had a lot of friends on the Hill and a very long memory. It was highly unlikely he ever in his life had done anything out of the kindness of his heart. After thirty years on the Hill, he no longer had a heart.
Whatever the reason, Sam wasn’t one to kick a gift horse in the mouth. He had nurtured the relationship since the beginning, and it had been beneficial to him and the
Herald
, and to Cap Marlowe.
Cap looked out for Sam, opened doors for him, and, on more than one occasion, leaked information
Similar Books
