Читать книгу The Senator's Daughter - Sophia Sasson - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

“I’M WORKING ON IT.” Alex bit his tongue, literally, to keep his tone polite. The Republican National Committee had been riding him ever since they figured out Roberts was going to be the make-or-break candidate for control of the Senate. The rest of the races were a foregone conclusion. Only a third of the Senate was up for reelection every six years. Virginia had been a predictable race, as Senator Roberts was well liked, but a new challenger had changed all that. Now the race was close. Tight enough to be within the polling margins of error. If Roberts lost, the powerful Senate would go to the Democrats.

“The senator needs to focus on his trip. Convincing the Egyptians to give us the technology is critical for the bill,” he told the RNC chair as calmly as he could. The senator didn’t need to deal with a media crisis. The whole point of his trip to Cairo was to get a firm commitment from the Egyptian government, which was not currently a friend of the United States, to turn over the specifications for new robot detectors that could clear IEDs. As an active senator, Roberts was both campaigning and trying to get his bill passed before the election. It was Alex’s job to make sure he was successful in both endeavors. IEDs were the biggest killer of American soldiers, so for every minute that soldiers were using old equipment, someone was dying.

“I’ll handle it. This isn’t my first campaign.” He stabbed the end button on his BlackBerry without saying goodbye. He wouldn’t distract the senator. The Egyptians had initially agreed to sell the technology for an exorbitant amount of money but were now reconsidering the deal under significant pressure from other Middle Eastern countries not to sell to the US. The senator was fighting overseas, so it was Alex’s job to deal with the battleground that was Washington politics.

This was a big ticket, his first national effort, nothing like the small-time campaigns he had been running. He was almost a Washington insider, not just—pull yourself up by the bootstraps, young man—hanging around the elite. No longer the token senior staffer, the one people turned to when immigration was the issue du jour. He wasn’t even Mexican. His mother was from El Salvador, a woman who legally immigrated. Yet that fact was often overlooked. All his life, he’d been around men in power. They saw him as the stereotypical son of the cleaning lady, out to work hard and make a name for himself. Good for you, boy.

The party leaders were waiting for him to fail. Senator Roberts had hired him when it was going to be a simple race. Still, he’d kept him on even though the party leaders were putting pressure on him to replace Alex. Those smug men. Alex knew that if he didn’t control this media nightmare, and fast, the RNC leaders would slap him on the back and tell him he’d fought a good fight, then give him a fatherly smile and suggest he go back to the minor leagues. You’ve made your mother proud, son. They’d blame him for the bill not passing, a bill they supported only because the Democrats were against it. Men like that always won. But he wasn’t a helpless kid anymore; he was a grown man who was going to fight back and beat them at their own game.

He rubbed his temples. His first thought had been that this had to be a woman looking for her moment in the spotlight, so he’d brought the campaign checkbook and the standard nondisclosure agreement to get the situation resolved quickly. But this was clearly not the usual deal.

First of all, CNN normally gave the RNC more notice for a story like this, hoping to barter for an even bigger scoop. This time it was a call for comment as they were going to air. Second, they refused to even hint at their source. No “senior White House officials” type of disguise to indicate where the story had come from. Third, the woman hadn’t given an interview. If this were the familiar get-rich-quick scheme, she would’ve been in front of the cameras talking about emotional damage. Her photos would be picture-perfect. Instead, they were using a mug shot from the college website, and the Twitter photos were even worse. Could this be the real deal? She’d seemed genuinely distressed when he found her.

He clicked on the BlackBerry again and eagerly read the email he’d been waiting for. The plastic squeaked as he sank deeper into the couch. It can get worse.

The bedroom door opened and Kat emerged, closing it softly behind her. She was even paler than before, and far more beautiful in person than in the pictures on TV. Her blue eyes were clear and expressive, her long blond hair haloing her delicate face. A naturally beautiful woman who would be stunning if she was done up right. Yet he could tell she wasn’t the type to make sure her nails were polished, hair blown to perfection and clothes immaculately pressed. She wasn’t someone you put in front of the cameras.

“So?”

He already knew what she was going to say, but he needed to hear her version of it.

“Can I get you some coffee?”

He raised an eyebrow then stood.

“I’ll help you make it.”

“No, you sit here. I’ll be right back.”

He thumbed through the remaining messages on his phone. He’d made a rookie mistake. He should’ve sent an unknown staffer to deal with this. Yet something about her picture had gotten his spidey senses tingling and he’d decided to deal with it himself. In hindsight, he realized that if the media found him here, in her house, the story would gain even more steam. He’d already taken a chance driving her from the college. Even with his hat, he couldn’t be sure someone hadn’t recognized him. Kat needed to make a statement, and soon. He didn’t have time for coffee.

Thankfully, Kat returned quickly with two mismatched mugs. She handed one to him. “I have cream and sugar if you’d like.”

He shook his head. He’d learned to drink his coffee plain black. Hard to deal with creamers and sugar packets while on the go.

“So?”

She sighed and leaned back into the squeaky couch, wincing at the sound. He expected her to take her time, but she got to the point. “The senator and my mother were married thirty-six years ago. Briefly. She left him then discovered she was pregnant with me. By then the divorce was final.”

His deputy, Crista, had just unearthed all this. The senator was such a public figure, having always put his life and family in front of the media, that Alex hadn’t bothered to dig much deeper before Roberts entered the national stage. Like the media, he’d thought the man was already well vetted and that any skeletons would have been dug up a long time ago. Another mistake.

Her face was now ashen, her eyes large and luminous. She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug and he saw waves in the liquid.

His leg jerked. He wanted to tell her it would all be okay. Except it wouldn’t. Her eyes shone and she stared into her coffee. Then a sound outside caught his attention. Great!

He flew to the window and pulled the drapes across it. She looked up, splashing coffee on her hands.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re here. You need to close all the blinds.” He kicked himself for not asking her to do that first thing.

To her credit, she didn’t let the panic clearly visible in her eyes overwhelm her. The cup clattered as she set it down and ran to the bedrooms. He drew the venetian blinds on the skinny window next to the front door, then walked into the tiny kitchen and did the same.

“How did they find my house?” The accusation cut through the air as she emerged from her mother’s bedroom.

“Probably the same way my assistant just discovered that Senator Roberts and your mother were married for exactly eight months and it was the first marriage for both of them.”

Eyes widening, she stepped backward, pressing herself against the door frame. They were both standing in the kitchen and he suddenly realized how much of the small space he was taking up. Excusing himself, he walked past her and back to the living room couch. This wasn’t the standard situation, but there was an easy answer—one that would get him out of here and back to work on the things that mattered.

“Listen, obviously you don’t want the publicity any more than we do.”

“You’ve got that right,” she muttered, sitting across from him and crossing her arms.

He leaned forward and gave her the smile he usually reserved for female heavyweight donors. Using his classic move, he reached out to take her hand. As soon as their fingers touched, she pulled back like she’d been burned and gave him a look that implied he had cooties. A nerve in his left eye twitched. Okay, then. We aren’t going to be friends.

“Then it’s simple. Have your mother make a statement that you’re not Senator Roberts’s daughter and we’re done.”

Her head snapped up. “You want her to lie.”

“Versus...what?”

“Versus telling them it’s our private matter and they need to stop harassing us.”

He stared at her. Was she really that naive? Then again, she was a college professor. His deputy, Crista, had briefed him on the articles she’d written. Kat was an idealistic academic who had no idea how things worked in the real world.

“You say that, and the story continues. They start interviewing your neighbors, students, Facebook friends, Twitter followers...everyone you’ve ever spoken to.”

“Why would they—”

“People you hardly know will come out of the woodwork with a charming—or nasty—story about you and your mother. Think about how many people want to get on national TV. This is their chance. Have you ever cut someone off in line? Left a bad tip at a restaurant? True or not, people will have all kinds of stories about you. Just look at how many Tweets your students sent.”

If possible, her face went even whiter, the color completely draining out of it.

“I’m not worth that kind of attention, surely...”

He stood and lifted the edge of the curtain. She gasped. There were no less than ten trucks blocking the street and a bunch of reporters crowding onto her front lawn.

“Any second, they’re going to come banging on the door. The only reason they haven’t yet is they need to get their cameras ready and the uplinks to their networks established.”

This time he went and sat next to her on the love seat. She moved slightly but didn’t get up. “They’re not going away. You’re the story of the day, and the only way to get them off your back is to tell them there is no story. Discredit it, and they’ll slink away.”

“I don’t want to lie.”

“Your birth certificate doesn’t have a father listed. There is no record of when your mother separated from the senator. Our spin would be that they were separated when you were conceived, so he’s not your father. There’s no way, without a DNA test, for them to prove you’re his daughter.”

Her eyes were big and wet. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Something pricked his heart. Risking another rebuke, he put his hand on hers, and this time she didn’t move.

“Listen, I know this is hard, and I don’t agree with the tactics, but they won’t stop harassing you. Your mother is sick...”

She snatched her hand away with such force that the coffee cup sitting on the table teetered, threatening to fall. “How do you know about my mother?” She inched away from him on the couch. He was handling this all wrong.

The job necessitated being able to put on a number of faces, so he furrowed his brows and leaned in, his eyes conveying sympathy and understanding. He couldn’t show his impatience with this woman now. Why is she being so stubborn? She obviously didn’t want the media attention, and he was giving her an easy way out.

He felt a familiar anger bubble deep inside, and he took a breath, modulating his voice, softening it, the way he’d been taught. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to intrude. Unfortunately, the internet has more information on all of us than we’d like to disclose. When the story first came out, I had my staff research you.”

“You thought I did this for attention. Fame.”

Her sharp tone cut through him. “We didn’t know you. The story came out of nowhere...”

“I want nothing to do with Senator Roberts, nor do I want any part of that circus.” She jerked her head toward the window. There was raw pain in her voice and fear in her eyes. He didn’t doubt for a second that this wasn’t a publicity stunt for her. Kat genuinely didn’t want the attention. There was a backstory there, and he made a mental note to have the campaign’s private investigator do some deeper digging. They hadn’t had much time to search smaller, local newspapers for archived articles.

“Then make this story go away. If your mother is up to it, have her make a statement that it’s not true.”

“I most certainly will not do that.”

An older version of Kat walked into the room. Emilia Driscoll looked frail, far thinner than Kat but with the same blue eyes and blond hair, identical cheekbones. The PI had sent Alex Kat’s birth certificate, which showed that Kat was thirty-five and her mother had been twenty-two when she had her. Emilia was fifty-eight years old, yet she looked closer to seventy.

His own mother was about Mrs. Driscoll’s age, having had him when she was only seventeen, but she was vivacious, still working as a housekeeper despite his protests. Whenever he insisted she stop working, she’d tell him there was no shame in hard work, even if her occupation embarrassed him. There was no point in having that argument with his mother anymore.

He stood. “Ms. Driscoll, I’m Alex Santiago. I work for Senator Roberts.”

Taking her hand, he controlled his grip. She seemed so fragile; he didn’t want to break her fingers.

“Call me Emilia.” She took a seat next to her daughter on the love seat, forcing him to go back to sitting across from them. “How is Bill?”

Alex widened his smile, giving her his disarming “I’m your friend” look. “He’s doing well, ma’am. He’s currently on a plane overseas, or else he’d be here himself to talk to you.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that. Bill never wanted to deal with me personally. He arranged it so he didn’t even have to show up to court to sign the divorce papers. Gave his proxy to a lawyer.”

Alex opened his mouth to defend the senator then stopped when he saw the ice in Kat’s eyes. She put an arm around her mother.

“Mrs. Driscoll, I know this is a difficult situation...”

“Look, young man, I know where you come from in DC—people have affairs and children out of wedlock. That’s not how it works in these parts. I was raised better, and I won’t have people believing my little girl is illegitimate.”

This is going to be tougher than I thought.

“I understand how you feel, but if you don’t dispute this story, they’ll hound you all the way to the elections.” He put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands.

“Then let them.”

Kat’s hand went to her neck and he watched her turn over a pendant in her fingers. “Mom, we don’t want to deal with the media.”

“They will pick apart your lives, sensationalize every detail,” he chimed in, his voice low.

“I want Bill to claim his daughter. Publicly. It’s her birthright.” Emilia sat back, lips pressed together.

Alex stared at her. Oh, boy. Was she the anonymous source to the media?

“I’m not the one who started this thing, but I’m sure as heck gonna finish it,” she responded to his unasked question. Something in the way she said it set his intuition tingling. What more is she hiding? Her fingers played with the flowered fabric of her skirt.

“We can reimburse you for your inconvenience,” he said carefully.

Both Kat and Emilia glared at him and he realized it was the wrong thing to say.

“This is not about money. It’s about honor.” Emilia clasped her hands in her lap.

Several thoughts raced through his mind: he could have the senator call this crazy woman and talk sense into her. Or they could discredit her with the media. His phone buzzed and he excused himself to go to the kitchen.

“Yes,” he barked. Crista was on the other line.

“Alex, one of the students uploaded a video from her lectures. I just emailed it.”

Hanging up, he clicked on the email. The video came to life and he activated his Bluetooth earpiece so Kat and Emilia wouldn’t be able to hear it in the living room. He had to watch only a few minutes to get the gist of it.

He strode into the living room and switched to speaker on his BlackBerry. He pointed the video at Kat.

“Did you really say that the IED robots are a waste, and the money should be spent saving lives at home?”

She gazed at him unflinchingly. “I’m a political-science professor lecturing in class. I was legitimately criticizing his policies.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you’re a registered Democrat.”

“Excuse me, but when did that become a crime?”

“It’s not, unless you’re the secret daughter of a Republican senator in a hotly contested race. You just gave the other candidate a two-point boost in the polls.”

Her eye roll told him that not only did she not care, but she wasn’t inclined to help him.

“I did a whole class on the Democratic candidate, too, pointing out his flaws. I present a balanced view to my students.”

“That’s good. Do you remember what day that class was?” He began typing an email to Crista to see if she could get that video. Senator Roberts’s poll numbers were falling every second, and with them, his odds of getting the bill passed. If the senate rank and file thought Roberts wasn’t going to win reelection, they would stop supporting him on the IED issue. Alex had spent a lot of time on things that wasted taxpayer money: initiatives that didn’t improve people’s lives, investments that were downright wrong. The IED technology was the one purchase he knew would save his soul, or at least give him an image other than that of his buddy lying on the desert sand with his leg blown off. He wasn’t going to let anything get in his way.

“I don’t want any more videos of me out there.” Kat’s frosty voice pulled him back into the moment.

“Then go outside and tell them this is a nonstory.”

Emilia stood. “Mr. Santiago, please leave my house. Now.”

He looked at Kat, who also stood and put an arm around her mother.

The doorbell rang, followed by loud knocks. They all started at each other.

Emilia Driscoll was the first to speak. “The vultures are back.”