A God in Ruins Part 3

Carter Carpenter, a hallowed father figure of the American media, had been resurrected to moderate the affair.It was to be a wide-open debate, with the moderator stepping in only to preserve civility.A buzz of antic.i.p.ation hummed upward as the clock moved for nine. Outside, last-minute tickets, drawn by lottery, were hustled for over five hundred dollars each."Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats," Carter Carpenter said authoritatively. Controlled applause greeted the governor and the president as they took to their rostrums.For that instant Thornton Tomtree was glad he had let Darnell talk him into the venue. His lead over O'Connell had slipped from double digits to a single digit of nine percent.Thornton, the stoic master of a great corporation, a gigantic figure, organized and in control, now showed an addition of tragedy-Lincolnesque. He had humanized himself, somewhat, since Four Corners, after slipping the mantle of blame and gaining sympathy for "taking responsibility, because it happened on my watch."On this night he'd be facing the gun issue as never before. He was ready.Carter Carpenter explained the very liberal rules. "Mr. Tomtree will go first, as he won the flip of the coin."Tomtree's opening statement said, in effect, "We are in midstream inseveral ways, leaving an old century behind and healing from acatastrophic event. We don't change horses in midstream. Havingascertained that Four Corners was a national tragedy which demanded ofevery politician and every American, to accept his share of the blame.. .

"... what are we being offered in my place? A popular rodeo-style candidate who, in fact, is probably more at ease branding cattle."Quinn's smile burped up to a short laugh. Tomtree pretended not to hear. Quinn knew what kind of brawl was coming up. Keep the powder dry for the last half hour, he told himself.

"The American people must not roll dice," Thornton went on. "We must not mistake my opponent as a Western hero, the sheriff in High Noon. This is a reckless man whose claim to fame has come about through violence."In the AMERIGUN fiasco Quinn O'Connell put lives in danger a dozen times with tactics illegal in our system of justice."Do we want a shoot-'em-up-first president? Do we want to trust the future of our nation to a man whose finger is always on the trigger?"Strong, strong stuff and only two minutes and thirty-two seconds had pa.s.sed. "Mr. Tomtree, you have credit for twenty eight seconds."Quinn slipped a high stool under him, found a comfortable position, and rested his arms on his podium, speaking without notes, as Carter Carpenter nodded that his time had begun."Thornton Tomtree has done an admirable job in the past year of helping us heal our wounds, but he has done an even more admirable job of salvaging his own reputation."The day on which Mr. Tomtree a.s.sumed office four years ago, the United States proliferated with a third of a billion guns, one for every man, woman, and child in America."Bogus militias had spread like pack rats in our forests and canyons and cities. Today, the White American Christian Arrival claims nearly two hundred thousand followers, followers of Adolf Hitler and purveyors of hate."From the time of his first inauguration until this day, Thornton Tomtree has never once raised the issue of gun control."He, like many Republicans, and Democrats, went stone deaf, dumb, andblind during the intimidation waltz played byAMERIGUN."Thirty thousand Americans are killed each year by guns. Match that against sixty thousand killed in Vietnam over a ten year period."Each year more Americans die by gunfire than are killed in traffic accidents! More people die by gunfire than die from Alzheimer's ... or by leukemia .. . more than are killed by cirrhosis."Thornton tapped the bell on his podium."Those are pretty heavy numbers," Carter Carpenter said. "Would you like to answer them?""Yes, I would," Thornton said. "It is easy to bandy about superficial numbers.""I hope so," Quinn said, "we drew them off the Bulldog Information Net, which guarantees their accuracy.""Raw data," Thornton said, "can be manipulated to suit any argument. Private owners.h.i.+p of weapons has been an American tradition from the inception of the nation. They cleared the way as we moved west. Those so-called statistics all have ipso facto's connected to them. The numbers are in the eyes of the beholder. We may have come to that point where there has to be new thinking on the subject. But we must wait until the investigations are done and all the information is in. We must not rush to judgment and in so doing endanger a basic American right.""Hold on, sir," Quinn interrupted. "What about the monumental investigation you promised? It has been a year, forty-four million dollars has been spent, and there is no report."It is a matter of American justice that we get all the information in. When I received the Four Corners commission's preliminary report last February, I had to go before the American people and tell them that Six Shooter Canyon had to become a permanent ma.s.s grave. I sensed, as president, that our people needed more time to heal. If we had released the thousands of pages of doc.u.ments, it would have only served to intensify national pain and make the American people relive the incident over and over."No matter our history and traditions, the tragedy in the canyon was a three and a half billion to one shot. It cannot and will not ever happen again, no matter what resolution we come to on gun owners.h.i.+p."

"Both of you gentlemen have stated your basic positions. Should we hold this data in mind and move on to another subject?""No, sir," Quinn said quickly. "This is the issue that brought me here. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow, fourteen children daily will be killed by guns. In addition to the thirty thousand slain, another hundred thousand are wounded, filling our emergency rooms with blood. Each gun death costs us $395,000. We are the shame of the civilized world. One of the richest forty nations in the world, the United States alone is responsible for half of all gun deaths."Thornton Tomtree felt his first blip of fear. He knew that Quinn had gotten a foot in the door of his Christian Right. He had known exactly what statistics Quinn would throw out. It was the pulsating manner in which Quinn delivered his message, without bullying. Thornton knew he could say the exact same words and never achieve the same effect. Thornton glanced at Darnell. He was a statue. The overall debate strategy now evolved in Thornton's mind. To spring the trap? Yes? When to spring the trap?Thornton smoothly s.h.i.+fted gears into his achievements, as immortalized on the Bulldog Information Network. Trade deficit down, budget surplus; Social Security funded for the century; great medical achievements; full employment; and world commerce, commerce in which the United States was the power that was!Quinn's list of achievements was paler stuff, but the kind of stuff which had held Colorado up as a light of the nation.Thornton jumped on Quinn's opening fusillade of helter skelter statistics as another example of his recklessness.Now to hit Quinn with the "doom and gloom" speech Quinn had made during the primaries in Jackson, Mississippi. The two major elements of it were world population control and the finite resources of the planet.Tomtree was almost overwhelmingly tempted to bring up the birth-control issue. But birth control and pro choice was a chancy subject. Most Americans, by a wide margin, favored and practiced both.If somehow Thornton could drive a wedge between the issue and the fact that O'Connell was a Catholic. He caught a glimpse of Darnell, whose eyes told Thornton he might be setting a trap for himself.Okay, then, the second part of the Mississippi address."Mr. O'Connell paints a brooding and grim a.s.sessment of the future of the earth's resources. During my administration the United States has stood at the head of a consortium for the exploration of the seas. Using the great gift of computer science, we are in the process of mapping the bottom of every ocean, sea, bay, polar cap, and lake."Treaties have been concluded with most maritime nations in which America will do the searching and the mapping. Treaty nations will receive a share of the eventual profits."What have we found under our oceans? We have discovered hundreds of thousands of chimneys, maybe millions of them, spewing up a variety of basic metals and ores, from inner layers of the earth. If we keep exploration focused on our seas, I believe we will discover what we will need to sustain future life. So, let us drop our doom and our gloom. Our computer science is becoming so advanced, we know it will show us that the planet will continue to prosper."Carter Carpenter cleared his throat, sincerely. "Would you care to respond, Mr. O'Connell?""Yes, sir. I think that the intense underseas exploration may have some merit, but we cannot bank the future of the planet on it."Thornton's bell rang as he sensed Quinn hesitating. "Do you have a position on this, Mr. O'Connell?""I sure do," Quinn answered. "I've been briefed on this by ScrippsInst.i.tute, Woods Hole, and Long Island University School ofOceanography. While we have gained enormous knowledge of the universe, we really don't understand the lay of the land a few miles down. s.p.a.ce exploration feeds the human drive to explore, to learn, to have a romantic contact. Perhaps, in this century, we will make contact with intelligent life out there. But under any equation, we will never be able to replenish the earth's shrinking resources. G.o.d does not run a trucking company from outer s.p.a.ce. As for inner s.p.a.ce, the chimneys on the ocean floors are truly G.o.d's handiwork created over tens of millions of years. Heat from lower layers beneath the earth's crust spouts from under the bottom of the sea, spewing minerals through the chimneys. Will we find infinite new sources of materials? If we tamper with these chimneys, which indicate fire below, then we are setting the table for underwater volcanos and the tidal waves they will create. We could be setting the table for a heating of our waters that would risk worldwide coastal flooding and a century-long El Nino."Does not this underwater exploration indicate a sense of desperation to replace what has been lost? Have we not done enough damage to our waters?"Quinn went deeper into the perils of underwater mining. "Exploration is primitive. To take something from the bottom of the sea would cost a hundredfold more than surface mining."Thornton felt a surge of raw fear. O'Connell was explaining something in Thornton's realm with utter clarity. Thornton could fire back with esoteric computer data, but it could well fail.Thornton had believed himself incredible, close to G.o.dlike, the way he had fought his way back from the Four Corners. But more, the people believed their president had added a dimension to his character.Thornton had toyed around to come up with a probe for the debate, one that would catch O'Connell cold. In actual fact, Thornton had grown a little sour on much of the underseas probing. Yet it was a good, tricky subject to show up his opponent's ignorance.

Thornton glanced at the time-keeping apparatus. Quinn had built up a reserve of ten minutes while he, Thornton, was on borrowed time.T3 had not come into the Great Debate without a hidden ace. He could wait till the clock wound down to five minutes. Meanwhile, Quinn had skillfully maneuvered him into an unwanted question-and-answer game."Mr. Carpenter," Thornton said, turning to the moderator. "My position is that we need a study.""Mr. Tomtree, there is no restriction or limitation on any subject.Mr. O'Connell can revisit anything he cares to."Thornton grimaced inwardly. That son of a b.i.t.c.h, Carter Carpenter, was at this moment the most powerful man in the world."What about child locks?" Quinn went on."That's reasonable," Thornton answered."How about a national gun registry, of which our police and other lawenforcement agencies unanimously approver1""We are floating into the potential of a ma.s.sive bureaucracy.""We have registration in Colorado. The bureau has forty people in it who also double as instructors for certification of a weapon. What about the limitation on the number of personal arms a citizen can buy?""You can buy as many gallons of gas and chocolate bars as you want and need.""Well, it's all right if each citizen purchased fifty guns, as have many citizens?""If we spell out numbers of guns, we may be endangering freedom of choice. Yes, there can be a ceiling, I suppose.""I have two pairs of skis, two tennis rackets, and between myself and my ranch manager we have three weapons. Sir, are you aware there are a hundred thousand licensed gun dealers in the U.S.?"To let this run its course or not to let it run? Show dignity, Thornton told himself. The d.a.m.ned point of all this was that as president, he was protecting both Democrats and Republicans who received huge contributions from AMERIGUN and its allies. Dammit, they'd never support any national gun law with teeth.Quinn was going on about the Colorado gun law, saying that the provisions he was bringing up were commonsense matters."Tell me, Mr. Tomtree, do you believe the Second Amendment in the Bill of Rights of the Const.i.tution should be repealed?""I am going on record with our moderator to say that your line of questioning is more like a prosecutor in an inquisition. But I'll answer you, Mr. O'Connell. We do not play politics with our Const.i.tution. It is like toying around with the Ten Commandments. A repeal will never happen because too many Democrats hold our belief that that could cause a domino effect on the Bill of Rights. What then? Attack freedom of wors.h.i.+p? Freedom of the press? Freedom of expression?""Why so contentious about the Second Amendment?" Quinn asked. "Let us read the words: A well regulated Militia, militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." Can you tell me, Mr. Tomtree, why is it that the gun advocates never quote the first part? The great banner on the wall of the AMERIGUN convention read, "The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." Well, where is the rest of it, and why is it missing from all your propaganda? Could it be you are hiding the first part because it is not a gun rights amendment but an amendment about forming militias?"Thornton checked the clocks. O'Connell had used up all but two minutes of his time and they were coming up on intermission. Now to pull one out of the hat! Now to blast O'Connell before intermission so people will be hit by his words and level the playing field."Mr. O'Connell, I would like to get your input on the weekly newsletter published by the highly esteemed Longacre Inst.i.tute.""I haven't read their most recent bulletins, but to inform the audience, the Longacre is a Was.h.i.+ngton think tank closely allied to the Christian Coalition, the Falwell, Robertson people.Thornton held up the newsletter. "And I quote. "The truth behind the Urbakkan raid,"" he said. "According to the Long acre Inst.i.tute, sir, the Urbakkan raid, which occurred in 1977, was a myth. What actually happened? A rapid-response team, of which you were a member, was testing a prototype aircraft on a NATO training exercise in Turkey. You were testing various systems, and you went off course into Iranian air s.p.a.ce. A tanker plane had been following you for an air-to-air refueling, and the c.o.c.kpit spilled fuel and caught fire, killing five Marine officers, including a major general. They were burned to death. The Corps, desiring several hundred of these planes, made a coverup story. That cover-up story was the Urbakkan raid. The raid was a sham. The legends of bravery about yourself and others were likewise a sham."A murmur arose from a shocked audience."For years," Thornton said, "I've heard rumors about Urbakkan. When I went to research it, I learned that the report on the raid was sealed and under lock and key. Now we know why," he said, holding up the Longacre newsletter.Jesus, Quinn thought, keep your cool! The b.a.s.t.a.r.d thinks he can create confusion that cannot be clarified until after the election. Quinn scratched his jaw as Tomtree continued to thunder."I respectfully request that you lower your tone, Mr. Tomtree," Carter Carpenter admonished."On behalf of my courageous buddies who gave up their lives, I cannot dignify you.""Sham!" Tomtree repeated. "Convenient of you not to answer.""There are seventeen survivors of the Urbakkan raid," Quinn said. "We have remained close down through the years. We have never missed an annual reunion. I have been stalked about Urbakkan since I first ran for state office over a quarter of a century ago. I knew this was going to come up. Fifteen of these Marines were able to come to New York and are in the audience. Both the former commandant of the Marine Corps and the former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of staff are now in the process of issuing statements to answer the Longacre Inst.i.tute's terrible lie. The reason the facts of Urbakkan were kept secret was because of the raid's success. We did not want the enemy to learn how we did it. Moreover, the plane itself and many of its systems were kept secret for national security reasons. In fact, the surviving members of Urbakkan will hold a news conference in the McGraw Rotunda directly after the debate."Darnell hustled Thornton into a side office at intermission. A string of damage-control people trailed in. Darnell sat the President down. The President was a tombstone with eyes, staring at the floor. Darnell hovered over him like a manager whose fighter has undergone a beating."Mr. President, according to a snap poll at the Oyster Bar-" Mendenhall began."You, Mendenhall, out!" Darnell commanded. "And you, Turnquist, out, and you, you, and you-out!""Mr. President-" Turnquist demanded."Out!" Darnell yelled."Do what Darnell tells you to," Thornton rasped.Secret Service Agent Lapides moved everyone into the corridor quickly and closed himself in with Mr. Jefferson and the President.Thornton looked up, crestfallen. "I fouled up," he mumbled."Big-time.""Why, how did I do wrong?""You tried to turn this debate into a search-and-destroy mission," Darnell snarled.

"It's hard to get a handle on O'Connell," Thornton went on."Yeah, he can beat you to death with the truth. If we are on a losing slide, you go out with dignity, Thornton. It's liar's poker, and you got called. You walked into a couple of sucker punches with your f.u.c.king ocean floor and Urbakkan raid. Who the h.e.l.l at Longacre did you a.s.sign to write this newsletter?""It doesn't matter."Darnell turned to the door. "Lapides, the President is soaking wet. He has a clean s.h.i.+rt in the bathroom."Thornton was led to the sink and mirror. The damage was not beyond repair. He freshened up. Darnell tied his tie, watching his man's mood go from self-pity to anger."Five minutes!" they heard a voice from the corridor."I think I'll go back in early," Thornton said."I know by your expression what you're thinking," Darnell said. "You can't do it.""It's legitimate!" Thornton said, gaining authority by the instant."You will not bring up an affair Rita O'Connell had thirty years ago.""She left her wedding bed to run off with a drug cartel lawyer!""You will not bring that up," Darnell cried."I'm the president. I can do any G.o.dd.a.m.ned thing I want!"Darnell held him by the lapels. "Pucky has been having an affair for two years. O'Connell knows about it."Thornton tried to brush Darnell's hands off him, but Darnell held on tightly. Thornton blinked, and blinked again."Was this affair with a male or a female?"(( vA man."Well, thank G.o.d for that. Do you think O'Connell will sit on it till after the election?""I warn you, don't go after his wife.""I see," Thornton said. "And you've known about this all along and didn't tell me?"

"I learned about it when I meet with Greer Little and Professor Maldonado in Chicago.""Greer Little!" Thornton spat. "That b.i.t.c.h!""You've got it backward, Thornton. Greer uncovered Pucky's affair. O'Connell made her swear to keep it a secret. Maldonado was the one who spilled it to me. When O'Connell learned, he fired Maldonado on the spot, his own father-in-law.""Who the h.e.l.l is this O'Connell?" Thornton moaned."One minute!" the voice called from the corridor."Darnell, what should I do?""You have to apologize. You say that in Longacre's zeal to get O'Connell, they fed you disinformation which you disavow!"Thornton nodded his head. "Darnell, are you going to leave me?""No, I won't leave you, Thornton."For the first time in their long years, Thornton threw his arms about Darnell and hugged him strongly, then went to the door."Thornton.""Yes?""Don't you want to know the name of Pucky's .. . lover?""What the h.e.l.l's the difference? How could Pucky have done this to the presidency?"Thornton Tomtree had a hundred seconds to resurrect himself, and he did. He spread his options out. The news of Pucky's affair was annoying. Who the h.e.l.l could have wanted her? That's not the point, he told himself. How much damage would it do before the election? If O'Connell showed enough desperation to make an attack, Thornton's spin people could throw it back in O'Connell's lap and show the American people his Democratic opponent would stoop to anything. With the knowledge out Thornton would get to play "the wounded Lincoln" suffering.Even as he followed Darnell to the door, a plan evolved. The Urbakkan raid still had enough mystery to it to cause confusion over the real facts.The crowd had thickened in Times Square a few blocks away under the great news screen.In this home and that, the intermission ch.o.r.es were closed up with a final flush of the toilet, snap of the c.o.ke and beer bottles, and gathering in about the television.America's downtowns were empty.This land, so diverse, realized that a particular moment of epiphany was about to take place."Thornton," Darnell whispered, "the people know you are still the president. There is a fear of O'Connell. This next hour is the moment of your life."Thornton nodded to Carter Carpenter as he cozied to his lectern."Mr. Carpenter," Thornton said, "because of the nature of our debate before the break, I'd like to make a statement.""It is not your turn, sir," Carpenter said."I'll cede to Mr. Tomtree," Quinn said."It's a rock-bottom humiliation for a politician to look in the mirror and see egg on his face. This Longacre report was only published today, and because the issue of the truth about Urbakkan has become vital to this election, I accepted it because of Longacre's decades-long devotion to the truth."The loved ones in Quinn's section paled. There seemed to be loved ones in Thornton's seats besides Pucky, but they were faceless to a father who didn't know their birthdays."Why did this spring up now? If Longacre published this account and it is proved false, then I would be greatly embarra.s.sed. But, my fellow citizens, Urbakkan has been sealed for three decades. I believe the truth is that someone on O'Connell's staff deliberately fed disinformation to the writer of this article. What media power fits the bill, and will she answer?""Mr. O'Connell?"

"Mr. Tomtree's reference was to my campaign manager, Greer Little-Crowder. The Longacre think tank has marched to T3's drumbeat for twenty years, fed by your generosity of over three million dollars.""You see there, how you are trying to distort-""Longacre didn't verify a single fact, Mr. Tomtree. It was a hatchet job to create suspicion over the raid. There are only one or two persons who could have written it. We'll know soon enough, and it won't hold till after the election."Well, now, he had dared O'Connell and O'Connell had not thrown out the Pucky affair. Even if Quinn attacked, the revelation would backfire on him. O'Connell could then easily go down as a raider and a shark.On the other hand, if Quinn misses this opportunity, he will I show he is too weak to duke it out with me, Thornton thought."The American people will have an answer on this in a few days," Carter Carpenter said. "I think it propitious to move on to other issues."Just what Thornton wanted, to create doubt and confusion, leave it unsettled, challenge O'Connell's hero status.Thornton was now wired with charts and graphs-over the hills and down to the dales, to grandmother's house we'll go-lines and colored bars and round pieces of pie all sliced to percentages. Thornton was in a boardroom posture where he could lay a hundred and one b.o.o.by traps with the figures distorted, omitted .. . and with three you get egg roll."I've got a real problem with your charts," Quinn laughed."Yes, I know, of course you do," Thornton replied. His blood circulated faster as his full strength returned. Thornton hung tenaciously to the visuals, unfinished portraits."Gentlemen," Carter Carpenter said, "we are running low on time. You both have enough for a three- to five-minute summation. Mr. Tomtree.""So what if the Urbakkan article proves to be wrong? All it proves isthat after three decades under seal, someone in O'Connell's court was able to slip disinformation to us, using an honorable inst.i.tution as a dupe. It is this kind of confusion that the American people will be facing from the White House if this man is elected.""Hot d.a.m.n!" Thornton congratulated himself. "I whacked him good! Now, nail it on, T3.""Is it not fitting," Thornton continued, "to have had this debate in this great library? Nothing could better explain the difference between us. I am of the new American breed who has made possible transmitting every piece of information in this library anywhere on earth, in a fraction of a second. Since this new century began, we have moved to the cusp of forging a great electronic world. Men like Quinn Patrick O'Connell would rather carve in stone than have a printing press. Yes, there is greed and sin and garbage on the Internet and on the cable channels."When has the human face been free of greed? Every time a new invention comes into play for the betterment of the human race, greedy legions pounce on it."I know that. I also know who of the two of us is better suited to deal with this complicated new world technology. Quinn Patrick O'Connell has shown himself to be a one-issue candidate. The sophistication and needs of man's new electronic age cannot be mastered by him.""May I?" Quinn asked."Yes, Mr. O'Connell," Carter said."Thornton Tomtree will indeed keep us busy regulating the two-bitstockbrokers, children's p.o.r.no, scams, and slap a wrist for the ma.s.siveinvasion of American privacy. There will be sensational trials andrigid regulations. That will be for the greedy little flies buzzingaround a dead carca.s.s. But Thornton Tomtree will leave the big playersalone. T3's seven hundred and forty industrial, commercial, s.h.i.+pping,banking networks are the greatest instruments for greed this world hasever seen. He'll use his power to ride shotgun on the little fishwhile, at the same time, he covers up billions of dollars moving daily in utter secrecy."Quinn had weighed carefully but quickly, and the words seemed to tumble out of his mouth."This is not a Tut's tomb or an obsolete dinosaur. This is my father's generation who gave more of themselves for the betterment of this nation than any other."A great door opened between speaker and listeners."I've lived on a ranch most of my life. My parents and I took a lot of trips. The moment of glory was entering this building and the Library of Congress in Was.h.i.+ngton. It was like coming into a sacred place. I knew, early on, that the writer afforded me a window to our past, an understanding of human relations.h.i.+ps that set me on a bridge to cross and partic.i.p.ate with my own generation. I was often lonely. It was not till I read Of Mice and Men that I realized I was not alone and that loneliness was a universal sadness of man."I've spent a lot of time with John Steinbeck. He bared his soul to bring light to me. He bared human frailty in his pages and in his own life-as did a hundred .. . no, a thousand other authors who knew what one little boy was going through and who stood tall for the dignity of man."What the h.e.l.l is he getting at? Thornton wondered. He's rambling. But would you believe the quiet in here? Believe it?You ought to see Times Square silent. Taxis pulled over into parking lanes, and twenty-five thousand people, or more, watched the great screen."We tore down buildings like this not long ago," Quinn went on, "in oureverlasting hunt for the mall and the skysc.r.a.per. What the h.e.l.l! Thelegacy of past generations can now be kept on a piece of software andflashed up on the screen with a tweak of the mouse. "Something ismissing from that. What is missing is the personal relations.h.i.+p, thelove between writer and reader, all the hope and all the horror thewriter has to tell you. It is you and the writer alone, together, that will give you understanding about the joy and fear, the jealousy and love you have with your parents and your sisters and brothers."I glory in the electronic age, but do not tear this building down. I believe that the salvation of man will not come from an IBM printout, but from the words, on stone indeed, that came down from Sinai. Let us not abandon all the great thought in these rooms to the proposition of putting all our faith into an impersonal machine. By so doing, we will become something less than human beings ourselves."

After the debate the ground s.h.i.+fted, radically. The Tomtree campaign seemed to run out of energy. O'Connell had splintered away part of the hard Right, not by politics alone, but by the growing charisma of the candidate. Is O'Connell too good to be true?In Los Angeles, Quinn spoke to the Mexican American community with a candor they had not heard. "We have no right to interfere with Mexican internal affairs, but for Mexico to be a good neighbor of the United States, its inst.i.tutionalized corruption must stop. No better example of that is the exploitation of Mexican labor in factories along our borders."It was another of Quinn's daring speeches, but some people finally heard out loud what they had been saying in whispers.The following night was a gathering in the Hollywood Bowl for a two-hour telecast from the community of stars. It was a love-in.Rita knew the instant her daughter-in-law phoned. Siobhan had pulled herself together for coherence every night when her son phoned. For the last two nights she had been unable to speak to him."She's in and out of lucidity. We just don't know how long."Mal and Quinn had been able to keep up civil contact, a new bend in their years together. The pressure was taken off when Mal phoned first."I've been visiting with your mother," Mal said. "She is in a bad wayr Quinn. If you can get back, you and Rita still have your wing at my place. I can book enough rooms in Grand Junction to fairly well cover the entourage.""It's your dad," Quinn said to Rita. "I need to go back.""Siobhan?""Yes.""We've got your mother in a quiet place, adjoining the south veranda. Beside Duncan and Lisa, and Rae, there should be other rooms open at the ranch house.""Rita and I will fly directly into Troublesome. We should be there after midnight or so. Mal .. . Mal .. .""Don't say anything, Quinn. Get it straight that I am not sorry I told Darnell Jefferson what the President's wife was up to. If I hadn't, Tomtree would have attacked my daughter and your wife. No job in the world is worth how they can ravage and savage. But, a.s.shole that thou art, you are my son-in-law. Now, where do you want me to put Greer?""Greer, Greer. She stayed in New York to see her husband and clear up some business. Will you have room at your place?"Mal laughed. "The room where Rita kept her stuffed animals. I'll have Juan and a couple of the hands get it cleaned out. I'll install what electronic and computer s.h.i.+t there is around to keep the wires buzzing.""Mal, thank you, man.""You're a stupido b.a.s.t.a.r.do, but I love you."Rita was on another phone. She canceled Quinn in the Northwest, then directed a press aide to put out a simple bulletin to the effect that it was family business.Rita kicked off her shoes and stretched on the chaise longue. Quinn sat on the ottoman and ma.s.saged her feet."How are you doing, honey?" she asked.

"Media y media. Dan, Siobhan, and Father Sean are the only family I've ever known. I feel detached and floaty.""You're very close to completing an American wonder work. You've restored a lot of faith, and you've come through intact.""Am I, Rita? All that clean? I knew when I sent Greer and Mal to Chicago to negotiate the debate with Darnell Jefferson that one of them was going to threaten him with Pucky's dirty laundry. I warned them not to and I fired Mal, but I was not all that unhappy with what he did." "From the moment you shared your darkest and most dangerous secrets with me, I realized you were the only whole man I ever knew or was apt to meet. Hey, you haven't presented yourself to the voters as all silver-plated and s.h.i.+ny. You've told people a lot of things they didn't want to hear. They get it. You don't hide behind the Const.i.tution, you stand in front of it. Your failings, your unbelievable courage in admitting to them-that is what they want."Quinn established a mini-office near his mother's bedside. Even in those times when she was alone with her terrible pain, she seemed to know of his nearness.Duncan and Rae alternated in bringing him messages."I need Greer," Quinn said."Headquarters has made contact with her charter. She'll be on your cell phone," Rae said.Quinn jotted notes on the communications, handed a couple for Rita to take care of. He looked from his mother to his son to his very pregnant daughter-in-law to his daughter ... to his wife. G.o.d help me, he thought, it's mad, but Rita looks so s.e.xy!From the whine over the phone, Quinn knew the caller was in an aircraft."Quinn," he said."It's Greer. How is Siobhan?"

"She's hanging in. She asked for you, Greer.""Look, I'm going to fly directly into Grand Junction. I'll be there by noon. Have a car meet me. Something extremely important has come up.""Can you say what it is?""No. We should have a secure room to talk in.""I'm at Mal's. His studio will be safe."From the studio porch of Maldonado's villa, Rita could see to the cutoff road from Troublesome. A motorcycle escort led a car up their hillside.Greer emerged with a stranger. Quinn and the man stared at one another."Come in, Mal, you're a part of this," Greer said, closing them all in a place flooded with sketches and wire statuettes and a work that had been in progress until the campaign began."I want you to meet Mr. Horowitz," Greer said."Sir," Quinn said, extending his hand."Governor O'Connell?" the man asked.i(r >JYes. "I am your brother, Ben."

THE SOVIET-POLISH BORDER, 1945THEEND OF WORLD WAR IIIn the mid-twenties after Lenin died, Stalin took power. The Communists set out to destroy Jewish communal life. Religious life, educational inst.i.tutions, the theatej-, the press, were forbidden. Jews were reduced to second-cla.s.s citizens.The Soviet borders were sealed, and tragic isolation ensued. Would there be an identifiable Jewish community at the end of World War II?Small groups of Zionists in Russia kept a thin thread alive to the outside world. Zionism was a cardinal crime, akin to treason. The Zionists, the only Jews to survive intact, were mostly in partisan units in the forests.Yuri Sokolov was a teenager when he escaped the Warsaw Ghetto and found his way to Jewish partisans operating in White Russia, east of Warsaw. At the time the war ended, he was twenty-two and in command of four companies, and a whispered legend.Yuri knew about the liquidation of the ghettos, the ma.s.sive slave-labor camps, and, later, of the genocide. As a surviving Zionist, his mission changed to finding remnants of his group and starting them on the perilous journey across Europe, then running the British blockade into Palestine.

Marina Geller was not yet twenty when she met the fabled Yuri. She had survived the war more easily. She had been taken in by an aunt in Minsk who had married a Christian and converted.Marina had also come from Zionist stock. At the instant of peace, she set off to find her parents and brothers and sister. After a futile search, she realized her family was just another tiny blip among the millions of murdered Jews.Marina threw herself into working with the small Zionist units who were now desperately engaged in getting the survivors out of the graveyards of Russia and Poland.She established a safe house near the Polish border, at Bialystok. They came in twos and threes at first, mostly Zionists who had fought the Germans as partisans.Now and again the trickle included an orphaned child or one too ill to continue the h.e.l.lish journey. She turned part of the house into an orphanage, giving a cover to the emigrant running operation. Marina was able to cull food and medicine as a "legal" orphanage. Soon she had twenty children.Yuri and Marina were married in a partisan wedding, and even before their pa.s.sion was spent, they went back to their bitter work.They vowed, as couples vow, that if Yuri was ever captured by the Soviets, she would make a run to Palestine and wait for him.It happened in quick order, by the hatred of an informer. Yuri was captured, taken to Moscow, and charged with Zionism. It was a good day for the Soviets, for Yuri Sokolov's name was known far and wide. He would serve as an example to the Jews that they had to conform with the regime and not attempt to establish Jewish contact on the outside.Although viciously tortured, Yuri refused to stand down. He was sentenced to twenty-five years in a labor camp in the Gulag Archipelago, a frozen waste on the White Sea. He was swallowed up, vanished, and all contact broken.

The time came to close the orphanage in Bialystok. An illegal emigration agent, a Palestinian Jew named Shalom Katz, set up a daring plan to evacuate Marina, her two helpers, and twenty children.They rode out of Poland in a closed pa.s.senger car ostensibly holding high-ranking German prisoners. By the time they had reached the Czech border, the ruse was discovered, but they dashed into Czechoslovakia.The Soviets demanded the return of the train to Poland. The British demanded the escapees be taken to refugee camps. The Czech president, Jan Masyryk, son of the father of his country, refused and granted safe pa.s.sage through his country.Marina arrived in Palestine by refugee boat just as the Palestine Jews declared independence and were attacked by the Arab nations.Marina was a rarity the wife of a great Jewish hero, a hero in her own right. Ben-Gurion himself and Golda Myerson believed she would best serve in America, to wake up that nation's Jews.Marina traveled the American landscape endlessly to spread the message of the Holocaust and to plead for help in getting survivors to Israel.Her husband, Yuri, had disappeared in the tundra of the north. Only the occasional rumor surfaced, but no direct word.Traveling in America on the low side in 1948, she had the same mildewed hotel room, seemed to meet the same welcoming committee, speak to the same small but earnest audience, eat the same homemade meal, fly in the same jerky little airplane, until it all looked like a blur. San Francis...o...b..urred to Oakland blurred to Los Angeles blurred to Phoenix. In those days before jet travel, none of the grand airports had been built. It was a smattering of daredevil pilots' shows at jerkwater landing strips. The roar of the jet lay yet in the distant future.She traveled with a huge, neatly wrapped poster depicting her husband,which was unfurled and hung across the back of the podium. Heropen-ended tour took her into small towns in Pennsylvania and Oregon, where the few quiet Jewish families wanted to listen.A year pa.s.sed during which Marina made over four hundred appearances, building a small but active following. She simply burned out. Her life had been one long struggle. And G.o.d only knew what news of her beloved Yuri.A friend from the Israeli emba.s.sy convinced her to remain in America. When she had gotten her vitality back, she would be a strong resource among the Jews. For now she just wanted to be alone.Marina resumed her maiden name of Geller and vanished into a studio apartment in an area of New York City known as the Village. She was unable to make ends meet on her dole. Her knowledge of the Russian language and Russian history made her attractive for a position when she applied at New York University.Professor David Horowitz, head of Slavic studies at New York University, thought that Marina was an excellent find.Safely housed and able to meet her bills, Marina allowed the wonderment of New York to seep in. A bit of antic.i.p.ation arose whenever she knew she would spend a bit of time with David Horowitz. Kind .. . soft .. . his smile and concern penetrated her depression. Soon it was lunches together, right? Just lunches. A social meeting.Lunches expanded into dinners. Marina was exposed to the gem shows that played in shoe-box off-Broadway houses that dotted The Village. Four months into their acquaintance, a new sound emerged when she broke into laughter during The Fantasticks.David was much the scholar. No siblings, both parents gone. He had married, had a child, and divorced. His three year-old son, Ben, was his weekends.What reached Marina most deeply was the sense of peace that emanated from David. He was so unlike her bombastic Yuri Sokolov."Why am I comparing?" she cautioned herself. She had known a few men when she was on her speaking tour, but always awakened in the sludge of guilt. What was stirring her up about David was putting her into a compromising situation. She was married and promised, and promised to return to Israel.Word reached her that all trace of Yuri had vanished. One of his fellow prisoners thought surely that Yuri was dead.The woman was on the brink of madness when David Horowitz took her into his arms tenderly and led her into a safe place. Yuri was a fighter. David was a lover. She required love.David's loft in the Village was a little kingdom of laughter and music and heated scholarly discussion. Teachers knew the place. Students knew the place.David's great, great friend was a rogue priest, Father Mario Gallico, who taught Latin and ancient Greek at the university. Father Gallico was at their table twice a week, uninvited but always welcome.Cardinal Watts of the Brooklyn diocese wanted desperately to mend his priest's wayward ideas. The cardinal needed him as a strong arm in Brooklyn, a fixer. After watching Father Gallico make a non-pastoral advance at an adoring secretary, the cardinal s.h.i.+pped him to Manhattan and the lady was returned to her husband.Marina had completely lost her mantle of freedom fighter. David totally filled her. Thoughts of marriage, of children, were not possible. When his son Ben came for Sunday visits, she hugged and loved him like her own .. . but was that enough?How many years had gone by without a single word from or about Yuri? Over five years. The promise to go to Israel to meet her husband had lost its rationale. Must she grieve forever for a corpse? She became pregnant, and she and David chose to have the baby.Alexander was born to them in 1950. The bliss of being, of existing, was theirs. On the weekends and for short trips, Alexander's half brother, Ben, was there. The four seemed family, close and loving."Marina!" a man's voice called.She turned to see Shalom Katz coming toward her. She smiled and greeted him warmly, covering up her apprehension. He took her arm and pointed at a park bench in Was.h.i.+ngton Square."It's been years," she said. "Are you still running emigrants?""I've retired from Alyiah Bet," he said, referring to the central underground organization. "I'm an Israeli diplomat at the United Nations. Second secretary, or something like that, in the mission."Marina smiled. Shalom was a cop. Cops looked like cops and acted like cops. The Israeli underground cops were a tough bunch."What to do?" Marina wondered. Tell him about her new life, as if he didn't already know? Surely he was bringing her the news of Yuri's demise. At the same time she wept for Yuri, she would scream out her new freedom."Why am I so honored by your visit?" she asked."With a real government, we are able to accomplish things impossible in the old days. I can speak to you, of course, completely confidentially?"She nodded."We captured a high-ranking Soviet KGB station chief in Jerusalem. He was disguised as a priest in the Russian Orthodox Church. The Russians wanted him back. I was a negotiator. I gave him a list of Zionists they had imprisoned to exchange. Yuri Sokolov is alive."She leaned against Shalom and shook. "How long have you known this?""I wasn't going to inform you until we got an absolute confirmation. We are going to bring out Yuri and two others in exchange for the KGB spy.""How is he?" she asked shakily."The gulag neither killed him nor broke his spirit, but he is a badly damaged man. He has been brutalized. It is a question of your being in Israel to meet him.""Meet me here tomorrow, same time," she said, and moved away quickly.d.a.m.nable Russian tragedy, the mournful music, the endless dull winters, the bleakness, the walls of cold stone, weeping women in babushkas, the drunk on the street, the listless eyes of a thousand men and women on the escalator coming out of the Metro underground.Oh, David, what have I done to you? You are my love, greater than anyone. Yuri brought us together, and now he is taking us apart.Yuri! I have been an unfaithful wife. I have betrayed you. When I had David's child, I wanted to hear news of your death. What the h.e.l.l, David and Alexander and Ben were nothing more than a dream. Russia is real. No matter what, she had to keep her rendezvous with Yuri in Israel. This great man could not be further broken with a scandal. Secrets had to be kept.The safety of the child was a need greater than Marina and David's agony. Alexander had to be put up for adoption, and she would return to Israel. But how? Through the Jewish agencies her name would surely be discovered.Father Gallico was now Monsignor Gallico, a strong servant for Cardinal Watts. His relations.h.i.+p with David Horowitz remained."My dear friend, my dear, dear friend," Gallico comforted him. "So, here we are. I will see how I can get it done."Alexander was a year old when Marina handed him over to Mario Gallico.The child would disappear inside the Catholic bureaucracy.

From that moment on it seemed that death played a hand in silencing those people who had knowledge of the plot.First to die was Marina Sokolov. She and Yuri knew a moment of peace.They were given respite on a beautiful kibbutz on the Sea of Galilee.But Yuri was a wreckage of a man, blind in one eye, one leg amputated, violent headaches from his beatings. Marina poured her life into him, but as she did, her own life ebbed from her. She continued to live the big lie, frightened every day that her secret would be discovered. Always wracking her, the terrible longing for Alexander and her beautiful lover, David.Marina went silently, they said of congestive heart failure. It was a broken heart. Unable to go on without her, Yuri followed her to his grave a year later.The little convent of St. Catherine held many secrets. One of their unspoken duties was to care for certain "nameless" orphans. Sometimes, these were children of priests and now and again a nun. Other children were sent there to protect them from the notoriety of revelation.The less the mother superior knew, the safer for the child. "Baby Alex," without a surname, became "Baby Patrick." Parents, unknown. For the next two years Patrick was a centerpiece of the convent, a greatly gifted and adored infant.During this time the priest Scan Logan had pleaded with Monsignor Gallico for a special child for his sister, Siobhan O'Connell, and her husband, Dan, to adopt.David Horowitz, sucked of will to live after the loss of his lover and child, succ.u.mbed to pneumonia, brought on by neglect of himself.At first Quinn didn't want to hear the story, felt invaded, exposed in a manner that would bring the walls down on his head.As Ben spoke, it changed. It turned into a moment he had dreamed of and played out ten thousand times. That moment! That exact moment!

"I was thirteen when our father died," Ben continued. "We had become very close, although any mention of Marina and Alex was simply forbidden. Grief wore him out. Guilt finished him off. He knew nothing about where you were, who you were with, how you were faring. The last year of his life was pitiful. When I reached my bar mitzvah, he revealed to me the circ.u.mstances of your disappearance, and he told me that Marina Sokolov had died in Israel, bearing their secret.""h.e.l.l of a bar mitzvah," Greer said."Our father told me that I was a man now, and had to a.s.sume a man's burden. I only remembered my half brother in veiled tones, and somehow the name of Alexander stuck in my mind."The melting away of fear in Quinn changed to a flooding gladness as Ben stopped for a drink, noting that the alt.i.tude made him dry. He took a small photograph alb.u.m from his overnight bag and opened it."This is our dad."Quinn felt Rita's hand grip his shoulder as he stared, and said nothing.Ben drew a deep breath, turned the page. "This is the only photo I have of your mother."Quinn spun out of his seat and turned his back to them, mumbling to himself in a jerky voice. Ben gulped another gla.s.s of water."I'm sorry, Ben, I'm being very selfish. Lord, what you must have gone through.""I knew I'd find you. The search became the hub of my life. I went into police work to specialize in missing persons. After I made detective lieutenant, I joined the faculty of John Jay College for Criminal Justice. For years only cold trails-here are my kids, two boys and two girls. Well, they're not kids anymore. And these are the grandchildren.""I'm an uncle. G.o.d, that's strange, Uncle Quinn. And I'm going to be a grandfather, and my daughter will have cousins and an aunt and an uncle .. ."

"Maybe I could have picked a more appropriate time, but Ms. Crowder convinced me it would be disastrous to hold on to this information ... so I came."Ben related the rest of his odyssey. All the princ.i.p.als were dead, and Alexander had disappeared as if into thin air. Ben had vague memories of Monsignor Gallico's visits, but these stopped."When Dad died," Ben said, "I was his main survivor. I was there with the family lawyer when we emptied the safe deposit box. There were a few things of value, some stocks, jewelry, certificates of owners.h.i.+p, insurance policies. What I did not know was that Dad had sent a sealed envelope to Monsignor Gallico and his successors. The front read: Not to Be Opened Until the Year of 2000 by Benjamin Horawitz or His Immediate Heirs. Here are the contents."Quinn looked at photos of Marina and David and a birth certificate for a "Baby" Horowitz."I tried to play the Catholic card but didn't even get as far as the convent door. It's a deep, dark, mystical world in there, with an understanding of G.o.d that is strange and different.""G.o.d sure has a weird sense of humor," Mal grunted."It became a matter of numbers: matching footprints on the birth certificate. The FBI had hundreds of millions of prints, but computer clarification had not caught up to them. Footprints of a newborn infant can change, so I went by probable birth dates. Well, everyone gives up a print sooner or later. When yours popped up, it was a very close match to the one on the birth certificate.""My footprint? How the h.e.l.l did anyone get my footprint?""I didn't, but a certificate told me your name, the time you were born and where. Then I researched Catholic adoption records covering a five-year period. A single line said, "Baby Patrick, parents unknown.Adopted by Daniel and Siobhan O'Connell, Troublesome, Colorado,February 17, 1953." The rest of it? Baby Patrick grew to be Governor Quinn Patrick O'Connell.""But how did you confirm your connection with Quinn?" Rita asked."Quinn has given innumerable pints of blood to the Red Cross to be used as a bank for a family emergency, and otherwise, he is a regular donor. I was able to get a hold of a pint and run a DNA on it, then one on myself. To make utterly certain, I had Father's body exhumed and took enough to test him as well. The three of us are a match.""We don't need DNA results," Rita said, lifting off Ben's gla.s.ses."Just look at the two of them."They drifted down from the tale of fantasia back into Mal's studio."Thank G.o.d, Ben reached us when he did. If the public learned after the election, it would be a prelude to a national nightmare," Greer said."Am I privy to this?" Mal wanted to know."Of course you are," Quinn answered."All right, then. We must put this before the American people at once," Mal said. "But no matter what approach you make, you've entered a mine field.""He'll tell the truth," Rita cried."Truth is in the heart of the beholder. Them that wants the truth will believe him. No truth can penetrate them who can't comprehend the truth. They will cry wolf about a Zionist conspiracy. In ten minutes I can find someone in the media down in Troublesome and tip him off that a left-wing Catholic priest planted a Jewish child as part of a Zionist plot. You think that's crazy? Nothing among the haters will be too farfetched."Mal looked at the brothers and shook his head. The resemblance wasremarkable. "The problem is, Jew hating has always been close to thesurface throughout the last two millennia. It's the perfect system ofbigotry, time-tested-the Roman sacking of the nation, the divorce of Jesus from the Jews in order to make a new religion, Islam, the ankle-deep blood of Jews by the Crusaders on the Rhine, the Inquisition, Martin Luther, the pogroms of Eastern Europe, and lest we forget, the Holocaust.""Is the human race forever in a prison of bigotry?" Quinn whispered."Quinn, I don't want you or Rita or the kids to have to walk into a blizzard of hate. Withdraw from the race," Mal said.Ben once again berated himself for his bounty-hunter zeal. Greer answered him that he had to do what he did. Neither Quinn nor Rita spoke of the terror they had endured before and after the AMERIGUN convention."We Jews are the most outstanding example of a patriotic minority," Ben said. "At only two percent of the population, we've created great industries and writers and musicians and doctors. As I teach my students, there are over seventy Jewish American n.o.bel prize winners. G.o.dammit, we deserve the respect of our countrymen!""There has been no crime ... no conspiracy," Quinn said."Depends on who is telling the story and who is listening," Mal said."They're all in place, waiting for the news.""And if I quit, the Second Amendment will never be tested.""Remember what was done to the Clintons," Rita said. "Destruction, sheer destruction." Her quavering words were her first. She knew what lay ahead if he went on. Quinn was deeply jarred by her less than enthusiastic support. His strong allies in life were becoming his reluctant allies. Greer? What about Greer? She'd be too clever to slip one way or another at this point."It's your call, boss," Greer said."Like my old commander Jeremiah Duncan said, "If blood bothers you, don't go on this mission." Greer, buy some network and cable time. I'll read a statement from here to the American people at one o'clock," and then he laughed, "Rocky Mountain time."

"Call me if you need me," Mal said, and left the studio.Rita hedged. She'd give no further resistance. She would come to his side. Only, it was shaky knowing what was ahead. Greer saw through it. She took Rita's arm and spun her around."Here's truth," Greer snapped. "Quinn Patrick O'Connell cannot and will not walk away from this fight. Never has, never will.""I know," Rita said with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I know.""What will you say to the voters, Quinn?" Greer asked."Straight up and down, I think. I won't plead or defend. I won't grovel. It's going to be up to the people.""Oh, Jesus," Greer sighed. "Ben, come with me. We have to sequence your story correctly for the press.""My nieces and nephews, Duncan and Rae?" Ben asked excitedly. "Isn't Duncan's wife due?""Their dad will tell them. You'll be able to meet them in an hour. Excuse me, we've got work to do," Greer said. She and Rita exchanged hard glances.breaking news breaking news breaking news "This is Lou Luenberger, MS NBC Denver. We are in Troublesome, Colorado, the home of Democratic candidate, Governor O'Connell. The air around his traveling headquarters has been rife with rumors. The O'Connell people have kept a lid on things, skipping the daily afternoon press briefing. The center of this appears to be a new player on the stage, who flew in from New York this morning. He has been tentatively identified as Detective Lieutenant Ben Horowitz, also a professor of criminology. The governor will make a statement at eleven Eastern, two Pacific Coast time."Quinn sat, naked to the world. No notes, open collar, no flags, no mantel filled with photographs, no busts of Lincoln or statues by Remington.

"My fellow Americans," Quinn said, "today I experienced one of the most joyous events of my life. As you are aware, I was orphaned at about the age of one year and was raised in a convent until I was three. I do not remember the names of any of the nuns, and I do not know the name of the convent or its location."At the age of three I was adopted by my mother and father, Dan and Siobhan O'Connell, ranchers near Troublesome, Colorado."My family and I were no more or no less dysfunctional than the average American family. Being Irish, we got into our Eugene O'Neill mode from time to time. In the end, we came back to a most loving relations.h.i.+p. Dan is gone. Siobhan is very ill. I am the most fortunate person in the world to have been their son."Yet for every orphan there is a dual life of fantasy. You cannot separate the orphan from this dream. The need to know your biological parents is a need to know yourself. Who am I, really? Where did I come from? G.o.d puts you on a relentless search. You are never a complete person if you do not find your roots."Today, I met my brother, Ben Horowitz, who has been searching for me for nearly half a century."Quinn briefly told the tale of David Horowitz, Marina Geller, and Yuri Sokolov."Herein lies the rub," Quinn said. "I believe the Americancivilization has reached a challenging moral plateau. We have made apowerful attempt to rid ourselves of bigotry. We still have a long wayto go to rid our nation of racism. If I had been Alexander Horowitz, Ibelieve I would have been elected governor of Colorado. I also believethat Governor Alexander Horowitz could have won the Democratic Partynomination. And I also believe that Alexander Horowitz could win the presidency."I am the same man I was yesterday. I have not changed. I will carry on with the same issues I had yesterday. Along with my other commitments, I will fight for the repeal of the Second Amendment."I was raised as a Catholic. I will remain in the Church. Yet I cannot help but inquire into my Jewish heritage. Where this will take me, I cannot predict."The human race has had a checkered existence, from the beginning unto this very day, of blood and evil. Yet we come to moral imperatives, like slavery, where we must rise and create a new norm. The issue of guns, I believe, is such a moral imperative. I also believe that the crus.h.i.+ng of anti-Semitism is such an imperative."I have come to you speaking the truth. If you believe me, if you want what I want for the American civilization, for American decency, then we will carry the day."Good day, G.o.d bless you, and G.o.d bless America."

Balancing a bucket of ice and a bottle of vodka and gla.s.ses, Rita backed her way into the guest room and closed the door behind her with her foot.Greer sat on the bed, back against the headboard, watching another gathering of pundits on TV. Her face bore a rivulet of tears dripping off her nose and chin and carrying down the colors of her makeup. On the nightstand, a dead pint of vodka."I'm a f.u.c.king mess," Greer wept."Mal told me he is plugged into Denver. They've called for volunteers to man the switchboards."((/^ s. rQuinn?"He's with Mal fixing a plan for the balance of the day. No press conference till tomorrow."Rita set the tray down, poured another for Greer and a double for herself. She left and came back from the bathroom with wet and dry towels, sat on the edge of the bed, and wiped Greer's face as one might a kindergarten pupil."What about Duncan and Rae and Lisa?" Greer said, still weeping."We saw them before Quinn spoke to the nation. They're with their Uncle Ben now. He's a really nice man.""I'd better get my s.h.i.+t together," Greer slurred. "Lemme see.

Too late to get back to Denver. Then ... I better be here in the morning. You and Mal p.i.s.sed at me?""I knew Quinn wasn't going to quit," Rita said, "but I just got d.a.m.ned frightened for a moment. I'd better get my att.i.tude straightened out. I'll not live in fear." "I, uh, got to work out some damage control... this can run out of control like a wildfire," Greer said."Take a deep breath, Greer, and let's get drunk.""Hey, two s.h.i.+ker sikasl""The first reports from Denver and DNC are not that bad.""Well, now," Greer said, "we have thirty channels of talking head experts taken out of cold storage and given electric shocks to get their batteries surging. Frankly, I get my in-depth news from E! Channel and Comedy Central. Oh, that G.o.dd.a.m.n Quinn is a b.a.s.t.a.r.d.""How well I know.""He's so wonderful," Greer wept. "I called Warren and told him to s.h.a.g a.s.s and get the yacht up from Florida. I'm going to spend five million dollars on myself in Paris. Son of a b.i.t.c.h .. . we came so close. Now, I've got to leave pretty soon ... I mean, for all time." Rita dabbed a new downpour of tears from Greer."I'm a f.u.c.king mess," Greer repeated."I want you to know what a courageous thing you have done, Greer. It was the work of a genius. And it was overflowing with love. I think I know how much you love him.""I love you, too, Rita. Only a very secure woman would have left me alone with Quinn Patrick O'Connell. As I grew to love you more and more, it made things bearable for me."This was followed by another slug from the bottle, which Greer scarcely needed. The women embraced and hung onto each other. Greer was feather-light. Rita rocked her back and forth and let her blurt.Rita fluffed some pillows and stretched Greer out and lay beside her so that she held Greer as her baby, and she stroked Greer's head and whispered a Mexican lullaby."I love you both," Greer managed.A moment later there was a knock and the door was opened. There stood Quinn. Rita held her finger to her lips for him to be quiet."Some rioting has started," Quinn said. "Birmingham. Chicago is simmering.""Hadn't you better try to reach the President?" Rita asked."He knows what happened and how to reach me.""Quinn, I'm with you, man."

WAs.h.i.+NGTONMarine Corps Helicopter Number One swayed from its Camp David pod and swished urgently for Was.h.i.+ngton. The President tried his earphones and switched on his mike."It's a miracle, Darnell," Thornton said. "I've never believed in divine intervention because it doesn't have a website or a printout. Can we get the election turned around?""A lot is going to take place in the next seventy-two hours. You'll have to play it statesman and big daddy.""Darnell! The man has left us an opening!""You've walked into his openings before. Don't even think nasty.""The President picked up his White House phone. "Martha, this is the President. I want Jacob Turnquist and Hugh Mendenhall in the Oval Office, p.r.o.nto. Better run down Lucas de Forest," he said of the FBI director. "I want to meet with them in my study alongside the Oval Office.""Don't you think we'd better have Pucky attend this meeting?""Do you know where she is?" Tomtree asked."Unless she's away on a campaign speech, she pretty much locks herself in her suite at the White House," Darnell said."As a matter of fact," Thornton said, "keep her at the White House. I think it would be wise if she and I made several campaign appearances together."He looked away from Darnell, lifting the White House phone again.Darnell became awed for trie thousandth time at how the Capitol rose from the dark and dazzled with white, blaring focus on the dome and the monuments. There, the White House ahead. A crowd was gathering in Lafayette Park over the street. What would they chant this night?Marine Corps One touched down silkily. With neither dog nor wife to greet him, Tomtree stretched his long legs over the lawn toward the portico. "Here they come!""Mr. President.. .""Mr. President.. . will you tell us .. ."He turned at the door and held up both hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, as soon as I'm fully briefed, I'll have a statemen