loosen his image, but hardly anybody has. Now everybody calls him ‘Honk.’”
“And still, you’re down in the polls?”
“We are. I wish I were in Paris with you. The press are atme every minute, wanting to know what’s wrong with our campaign, and I’m running out of brave faces to put on for them.”
“Most races seem to tighten a bit in the last weeks, don’t they?”
“Yes, but not this much. I mean, Kate is so clearly the superior candidate, I don’t know why everybody hasn’t gotten on her bandwagon. Hang on a minute.” She covered the phone, and he could hear her voice, muffled. She seemed to be expressing consternation. Then she came back. “Mystery solved,” she said, sounding dejected.
“Tell me.”
“Some blogger named Howard Axelrod has concocted a story that a DNA test exists, proving that you are the father of Kate’s baby.”
Stone was immediately furious. “They tried that earlier, didn’t they? It didn’t hold water.”
“He’s saying that you’ve left the country because you don’t want to be questioned about it. It’s the rumor of the DNA test that’s lending weight to the story.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I haven’t donated any bodily tissues or fluids for purposes of DNA testing.”
“Wait a minute,” Ann said. “Have you had any sort of medical testing done in the past three months?”
“I had my biyearly flight physical, the one required by the FAA and my insurance company to keep me flying. That was about three weeks ago.”
“Did they do blood work or take a urine sample?”
“Just the urine sample.”
“That’s enough for a DNA test, I think. Who’s your doctor?”
“Samuel Somethingorother. I can’t remember the last name. He’s not my regular doctor, he’s an AME—an Aviation Medical Examiner—appointed by the FAA. Actually, he’s an ob-gyn who happens to be a pilot and thus has an interest in flying.”
“I’ll check him out. Let’s hope to God he’s not Kate’s ob-gyn. What’s his address?”
“He’s in the East Seventies, up near the Carlyle Hotel.”
“Oh, God, near Will and Kate’s apartment.”
Stone dug his FAA medical certificate from his wallet. “Wharton,” he said. “Samuel C. Wharton, M.D.”
“How were you referred to him?”
“There’s a list of AMEs on an aviation website. I chose him because he was the closest to my house.”
“Hang on a minute,” Ann said, and covered the phone again.
Stone waited patiently.
Three minutes later, Ann came back on the line. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said.
“Try me.”
“We looked him up on the Internet: Dr. Wharton and Kate were undergraduate classmates at Harvard.”
“Is he her doctor?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if they knew each other in college, and I’m afraid to ask her.”
“Well, somebody is going to have to ask her. There are too many coincidences here not to excite the interest of reporters.”
“Stone, I hate to ask you this, but did you and Kate ever—”
“No! I’ve told you this before: Kate and I have never had any kind of physical relationship.”
“I mean, I could understand it if you did—you’re both such attractive people.”
“Ann, stop it!”
“I’m so sorry, I’m just so worried.”
“How about this: Kate and I take DNA tests on national television, from a doctor appointed by the Republican National Committee—”
“All right, all right! I’ll stop it. I’ll even ask Kate who her ob-gyn is!”
“I think you have to do that. Please let me know how this all turns out.”
“You may start getting calls from reporters.”
“I’ll fend them off, get my calls screened—”
“No! That’ll make you look guilty. Don’t run from them, just answer the question.”
“I hate doing that.”
“I hate your having to do it. I’ll call you when I’ve heard more.” She hung up.
Five seconds after she did, Stone’s phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID:
“And still, you’re down in the polls?”
“We are. I wish I were in Paris with you. The press are atme every minute, wanting to know what’s wrong with our campaign, and I’m running out of brave faces to put on for them.”
“Most races seem to tighten a bit in the last weeks, don’t they?”
“Yes, but not this much. I mean, Kate is so clearly the superior candidate, I don’t know why everybody hasn’t gotten on her bandwagon. Hang on a minute.” She covered the phone, and he could hear her voice, muffled. She seemed to be expressing consternation. Then she came back. “Mystery solved,” she said, sounding dejected.
“Tell me.”
“Some blogger named Howard Axelrod has concocted a story that a DNA test exists, proving that you are the father of Kate’s baby.”
Stone was immediately furious. “They tried that earlier, didn’t they? It didn’t hold water.”
“He’s saying that you’ve left the country because you don’t want to be questioned about it. It’s the rumor of the DNA test that’s lending weight to the story.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I haven’t donated any bodily tissues or fluids for purposes of DNA testing.”
“Wait a minute,” Ann said. “Have you had any sort of medical testing done in the past three months?”
“I had my biyearly flight physical, the one required by the FAA and my insurance company to keep me flying. That was about three weeks ago.”
“Did they do blood work or take a urine sample?”
“Just the urine sample.”
“That’s enough for a DNA test, I think. Who’s your doctor?”
“Samuel Somethingorother. I can’t remember the last name. He’s not my regular doctor, he’s an AME—an Aviation Medical Examiner—appointed by the FAA. Actually, he’s an ob-gyn who happens to be a pilot and thus has an interest in flying.”
“I’ll check him out. Let’s hope to God he’s not Kate’s ob-gyn. What’s his address?”
“He’s in the East Seventies, up near the Carlyle Hotel.”
“Oh, God, near Will and Kate’s apartment.”
Stone dug his FAA medical certificate from his wallet. “Wharton,” he said. “Samuel C. Wharton, M.D.”
“How were you referred to him?”
“There’s a list of AMEs on an aviation website. I chose him because he was the closest to my house.”
“Hang on a minute,” Ann said, and covered the phone again.
Stone waited patiently.
Three minutes later, Ann came back on the line. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said.
“Try me.”
“We looked him up on the Internet: Dr. Wharton and Kate were undergraduate classmates at Harvard.”
“Is he her doctor?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if they knew each other in college, and I’m afraid to ask her.”
“Well, somebody is going to have to ask her. There are too many coincidences here not to excite the interest of reporters.”
“Stone, I hate to ask you this, but did you and Kate ever—”
“No! I’ve told you this before: Kate and I have never had any kind of physical relationship.”
“I mean, I could understand it if you did—you’re both such attractive people.”
“Ann, stop it!”
“I’m so sorry, I’m just so worried.”
“How about this: Kate and I take DNA tests on national television, from a doctor appointed by the Republican National Committee—”
“All right, all right! I’ll stop it. I’ll even ask Kate who her ob-gyn is!”
“I think you have to do that. Please let me know how this all turns out.”
“You may start getting calls from reporters.”
“I’ll fend them off, get my calls screened—”
“No! That’ll make you look guilty. Don’t run from them, just answer the question.”
“I hate doing that.”
“I hate your having to do it. I’ll call you when I’ve heard more.” She hung up.
Five seconds after she did, Stone’s phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID:
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