closet.”
“Well, I think you’d better take a look in Kennedy’s closet, because it’s full of them.”
“And what proof do you have of that?”
Rudin leaned forward. “Oh, come off it. You know exactly what I mean. She’s so dirty she’s got shit coming out of her ears.”
This was not easy for Clark. The logical side of him wanted to slice Rudin’s weak arguments to shreds, but he had to suppress that desire. The goal here was to make him even more resolute. Not to give him reason to rethink. But at the same time, Rudin couldn’t know he was being played. Clark had done a masterful job thus far. He had been the one who had told President Hayes that Rudin and Midleton were plotting against him and his choice to be the next DCI. Fortunately for Clark, Rudin hadn’t the slightest idea that his friend in the Senate had betrayed him. His overwhelming paranoia of Thomas Stansfield had caused him to attribute almost every bad event in his political life to the now dead spymaster.
Clark now leaned forward. The two men were eye to eye, three short feet separating them. “You are very quick to point out, Albert, that it is in my power as a senator to confirm or block the president’s nominee, but you very conveniently leave out the fact that your committee has the power to investigate. If you think Irene Kennedy is corrupt, then investigate her.” Clark stared through the steam at Rudin’s deep-set eyes, waiting for the inevitable. The senator knew Rudin had no choice but to back down. There was nowhere else for him to go, and then Clark would have him exactly where he wanted him.
Rudin blinked as a bead of sweat dropped from his brow down onto his prominent nose. It hung there on the tip for a second and then slowly broke free. Rudin sat back and wildly waved a hand in front of him, signaling to Clark what he thought of his idea. “I can’t do that,” was his terse reply.
“Why not?” egged Clark.
“I told you what happened. I told you what the president and the party leadership said. I’d be done. My career would be over. They’d strip me of my chairmanship, and I’d never be heard from again.”
Clark could feel it coming together. He smiled openly. “I find it impossible to believe that they could silence you.”
“You weren’t there when they let me have it. Hayes threatened me.” Rudin pointed to himself. “He said he’d make it his personal goal in life to see that I was defeated during the next election.”
“Calm down, Albert. I think you’ve gotten yourself so far into this you’re not seeing clearly.”
“What could I possibly be missing? The speaker of the House picks me up in his limo, drags me over to the White House, I’m ambushed by my own party’s leadership, and I’m threatened by the president himself.” With a grimace Rudin added, “Please tell me what I’m missing.”
Clark was tempted to remind Rudin that he’d brought it all down on himself, but decided it would be counterproductive to the task at hand. “Albert, I think you’re selling yourself short. When was the last time you were challenged in a primary? Ten years ago?”
“Eight.”
“When was the last time my party gave you a serious challenge?”
“It’s been a while,” he conceded with some real pride.
“So, how is the president going to stop you from going on to an eighteenth term?”
“I haven’t been challenged from within my own party because there has never been an alternative, but if the president were to lean hard enough on the people who run the party back in Connecticut . . . if he were to promise to infuse a bunch of cash into their coffers, they’d dump me in a heartbeat.”
“Maybe so, but that’s a risky proposition for the president. Voters don’t always like bigwigs from Washington interfering in their local politics. You could spin it in the media that the president had a vendetta against you. If you played it right you could make yourself into a victim of petty
“Well, I think you’d better take a look in Kennedy’s closet, because it’s full of them.”
“And what proof do you have of that?”
Rudin leaned forward. “Oh, come off it. You know exactly what I mean. She’s so dirty she’s got shit coming out of her ears.”
This was not easy for Clark. The logical side of him wanted to slice Rudin’s weak arguments to shreds, but he had to suppress that desire. The goal here was to make him even more resolute. Not to give him reason to rethink. But at the same time, Rudin couldn’t know he was being played. Clark had done a masterful job thus far. He had been the one who had told President Hayes that Rudin and Midleton were plotting against him and his choice to be the next DCI. Fortunately for Clark, Rudin hadn’t the slightest idea that his friend in the Senate had betrayed him. His overwhelming paranoia of Thomas Stansfield had caused him to attribute almost every bad event in his political life to the now dead spymaster.
Clark now leaned forward. The two men were eye to eye, three short feet separating them. “You are very quick to point out, Albert, that it is in my power as a senator to confirm or block the president’s nominee, but you very conveniently leave out the fact that your committee has the power to investigate. If you think Irene Kennedy is corrupt, then investigate her.” Clark stared through the steam at Rudin’s deep-set eyes, waiting for the inevitable. The senator knew Rudin had no choice but to back down. There was nowhere else for him to go, and then Clark would have him exactly where he wanted him.
Rudin blinked as a bead of sweat dropped from his brow down onto his prominent nose. It hung there on the tip for a second and then slowly broke free. Rudin sat back and wildly waved a hand in front of him, signaling to Clark what he thought of his idea. “I can’t do that,” was his terse reply.
“Why not?” egged Clark.
“I told you what happened. I told you what the president and the party leadership said. I’d be done. My career would be over. They’d strip me of my chairmanship, and I’d never be heard from again.”
Clark could feel it coming together. He smiled openly. “I find it impossible to believe that they could silence you.”
“You weren’t there when they let me have it. Hayes threatened me.” Rudin pointed to himself. “He said he’d make it his personal goal in life to see that I was defeated during the next election.”
“Calm down, Albert. I think you’ve gotten yourself so far into this you’re not seeing clearly.”
“What could I possibly be missing? The speaker of the House picks me up in his limo, drags me over to the White House, I’m ambushed by my own party’s leadership, and I’m threatened by the president himself.” With a grimace Rudin added, “Please tell me what I’m missing.”
Clark was tempted to remind Rudin that he’d brought it all down on himself, but decided it would be counterproductive to the task at hand. “Albert, I think you’re selling yourself short. When was the last time you were challenged in a primary? Ten years ago?”
“Eight.”
“When was the last time my party gave you a serious challenge?”
“It’s been a while,” he conceded with some real pride.
“So, how is the president going to stop you from going on to an eighteenth term?”
“I haven’t been challenged from within my own party because there has never been an alternative, but if the president were to lean hard enough on the people who run the party back in Connecticut . . . if he were to promise to infuse a bunch of cash into their coffers, they’d dump me in a heartbeat.”
“Maybe so, but that’s a risky proposition for the president. Voters don’t always like bigwigs from Washington interfering in their local politics. You could spin it in the media that the president had a vendetta against you. If you played it right you could make yourself into a victim of petty
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