the bottom of the stairs up to the stage. He’s a big black guy, wearing a tan suit, looks like an NFL lineman because he used to be one.”
—
BOWDEN’S SPEECH was in a large ballroom with arches and a shaky-looking temporary stage; there were metal detectors at the doorways and security people standing by them, but the audience was already inside. The place was jammed, with standing people crowded around the chairs that took up the center of the room, which smelled of sweat, perfume, and hair spray. Three television crews were shooting from one side, a fourth from the other side. Lucas worked his way around the edge of the crowd until he came to a rope that kept him from continuing behind the platform. A security man saw him, crooked a finger at him, and lifted the rope so he could cross the line.
“Dan’s waiting for you . . .”
Bowden was saying, “. . . need to care for the less advantaged among us. The Republicans and even some of my fellow Democrats would have you believe that these people are nothing but lazy . . .”
Her eyes touched Lucas’s and she gave him a minute nod and kept talking.
—
LUCAS WORKED HIS WAY to the side of the stage, where Jubek was standing. He was four inches taller than Lucas and six inches wider. He was wearing round-toed shoes that almost passed for dress, but would have a solid steel cap under the toe. He had a bug in his ear and a microphone button on one collar. He leaned toward Lucas and said, “She’s about four minutes from finishing and then we’re off to the cocktail party down the hall. Be best if we talked then.”
“Okay.”
Lucas backed off and scanned the crowd. Lots of middle-aged women, but no farm boys with distinctive gray eyes. Everybody seemed well-groomed, even when long-haired. Nothing for him here, he thought; the crowd was too well-watched and chosen and metal-detected. The cocktail party would probably be even more selected. A problem, if there ever was one, would come from the outside, while Bowden was moving from one place to another.
—
BOWDEN FINISHED HER TALK with comments about all the great old friends she had in Davenport and how much she enjoyed seeing them again, which seemed unlikely to Lucas, but then she was off the stage and Jubek escorted her down a side hall and through a couple of back rooms and out into another hallway, to another event space already populated by a couple dozen people holding drinks.
When she was securely inside, Jubek dropped back to speak with Lucas.
“Give me the odds that this is something real and not a false alarm,” he said.
Lucas said, “Maybe fifty-fifty.”
Jubek’s eyebrows went up, and he said, “That bad? Fifty-fifty makes me seriously nervous.”
“Mrs. Bowden and Norm Clay suspect that Governor Henderson may be trying to discourage her from campaigning here in Iowa, but that’s not true,” Lucas said. “Henderson doesn’t really believe he can get the nomination, but he thinks if Bowden is nominated, she could pick him as a running mate, and nobody else would. What I’m saying is, he
wants
her to get the nomination.”
“Interesting. That’s not what I’m hearing from Norm—the governor’s doing a little better than we’d expected. Anyway, what I need here is specifics, who and what and mostly when.”
Lucas shook his head. “Don’t have any of that yet. I’ll feed you everything I get. The thing that worries me the most is the fact that she’s going to the state fair. That’s gonna be a mess.”
“We know that,” Jubek said, going grim. “I’ve tried to talk her out of it, but it’s the biggest event on the schedule, and
not
going would be considered an insult to the entire state of Iowa. She’s going.”
“All right. I’ll try to track these guys down before then . . .”
As Bowden worked the room, Jubek took Lucas around to all the other security people and told them to take a good look. “If this guy tells you something, you listen,”
—
BOWDEN’S SPEECH was in a large ballroom with arches and a shaky-looking temporary stage; there were metal detectors at the doorways and security people standing by them, but the audience was already inside. The place was jammed, with standing people crowded around the chairs that took up the center of the room, which smelled of sweat, perfume, and hair spray. Three television crews were shooting from one side, a fourth from the other side. Lucas worked his way around the edge of the crowd until he came to a rope that kept him from continuing behind the platform. A security man saw him, crooked a finger at him, and lifted the rope so he could cross the line.
“Dan’s waiting for you . . .”
Bowden was saying, “. . . need to care for the less advantaged among us. The Republicans and even some of my fellow Democrats would have you believe that these people are nothing but lazy . . .”
Her eyes touched Lucas’s and she gave him a minute nod and kept talking.
—
LUCAS WORKED HIS WAY to the side of the stage, where Jubek was standing. He was four inches taller than Lucas and six inches wider. He was wearing round-toed shoes that almost passed for dress, but would have a solid steel cap under the toe. He had a bug in his ear and a microphone button on one collar. He leaned toward Lucas and said, “She’s about four minutes from finishing and then we’re off to the cocktail party down the hall. Be best if we talked then.”
“Okay.”
Lucas backed off and scanned the crowd. Lots of middle-aged women, but no farm boys with distinctive gray eyes. Everybody seemed well-groomed, even when long-haired. Nothing for him here, he thought; the crowd was too well-watched and chosen and metal-detected. The cocktail party would probably be even more selected. A problem, if there ever was one, would come from the outside, while Bowden was moving from one place to another.
—
BOWDEN FINISHED HER TALK with comments about all the great old friends she had in Davenport and how much she enjoyed seeing them again, which seemed unlikely to Lucas, but then she was off the stage and Jubek escorted her down a side hall and through a couple of back rooms and out into another hallway, to another event space already populated by a couple dozen people holding drinks.
When she was securely inside, Jubek dropped back to speak with Lucas.
“Give me the odds that this is something real and not a false alarm,” he said.
Lucas said, “Maybe fifty-fifty.”
Jubek’s eyebrows went up, and he said, “That bad? Fifty-fifty makes me seriously nervous.”
“Mrs. Bowden and Norm Clay suspect that Governor Henderson may be trying to discourage her from campaigning here in Iowa, but that’s not true,” Lucas said. “Henderson doesn’t really believe he can get the nomination, but he thinks if Bowden is nominated, she could pick him as a running mate, and nobody else would. What I’m saying is, he
wants
her to get the nomination.”
“Interesting. That’s not what I’m hearing from Norm—the governor’s doing a little better than we’d expected. Anyway, what I need here is specifics, who and what and mostly when.”
Lucas shook his head. “Don’t have any of that yet. I’ll feed you everything I get. The thing that worries me the most is the fact that she’s going to the state fair. That’s gonna be a mess.”
“We know that,” Jubek said, going grim. “I’ve tried to talk her out of it, but it’s the biggest event on the schedule, and
not
going would be considered an insult to the entire state of Iowa. She’s going.”
“All right. I’ll try to track these guys down before then . . .”
As Bowden worked the room, Jubek took Lucas around to all the other security people and told them to take a good look. “If this guy tells you something, you listen,”
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