A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [153]
Quinn instead pulled a rabbit out of the hat by reaching back for Senator Chad Humboldt, his main opponent in the primaries, even though there was a difference on some issues. Humboldt was, quite simply, the best man. Moreover, the senator could neutralize Vice President Matthew Hope in the South.
After a year of mourning, the public looked anxiously toward the coming election. Quinn hit the ground running.
As governor he had sought and brokered an environmental and land-use bill that encompassed ranchers, mining interests, the ski industry, developers, and private landowners, preserving open space and ranch land forever.
The University of Colorado had been upgraded to one of the top ten state schools.
Colorado was the best-managed tourist state.
Colorado had more foreign import-export deals than any state west of the Mississippi River, other than California and Texas.
The Denver Symphony had been made into one of the nation’s best, and Denver became a cultural oasis.
There was an impressive list of accomplishments in secondary education, child care, welfare, and he had shut down two of the state’s more obnoxious HMOs.
Leading the parade, the issue to repeal the Second Amendment now opened for business.
DENVER
OCTOBER 1, 2008
Greer heard the nasty sound of the phone and put a pillow over her head. The ring persisted. She clicked on her table lamp and simultaneously clicked on her head.
“Greer,” she said.
“This is Darnell Jefferson.”
“Hi, Darnell, what have you been doing with yourself lately?”
“Greer, you’re going to have to excuse the hour, but I just got through with my meetings. Are we on a secure line?”
“You bet.”
“Do we trust each other?”
“To do what?” she asked.
“Anything beyond this phone call. If we meet, where we meet, what we say is not taped or bugged or leaked.”
Greer mulled a moment. “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?”
“The President’s kicked ass on me. We’re trying to complete his campaign schedule, and we can’t do it unless we agree on the debates.”
Bingo! Greer thought.
“All right,” Darnell said, “so we blinked first, but you know and I know every campaign pussyfoots around the debates, then always conducts them. The responsibility falls on both sides. And you know damned well, we’ll end up with debates.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“The President is really leaning on me. He wants it settled in the next couple of days.”
Darnell was calling from Washington. It was two in the morning there. Pretty late to clean one’s desk. Presidential urgency. They must have gotten late polls. Quinn was running neck and neck with Tomtree. Were they soft, or was T3 trying to set Quinn up?
“So, what’s the program?” Greer asked.
“Chicago is midway between Denver and Washington. We have a safe house there, or if you are too suspicious, you can set it up in a hotel of your choice. We’d send a charter jet for your negotiator.”
“And yourself?”
“I’m authorized to cut a deal.”
“I’ll get back to you in a few hours, Darnell. If I come to Chicago, I can’t leave until tomorrow evening. It should be me and Professor Maldonado.”
“The governor’s father-in-law?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call. It will be nice to see you again.”
Greer could not fall back to sleep, so she finally arose, yawned and stretched, and set the coffeepot into motion. Since the Iowa caucus in February, she had expected someone to tap her on the shoulder and say, “I know what you know.”
Every day her secret grew, like a tumor, and every day she ignored her own sense of propriety, it enlarged. Greer walked through her arguments again, but she found herself in the same place, with the madness of holding a secret. The fear of letting it go made her shiver.
Call Warren? Christ, she knew what he would say. He’d tell her to press her advantage, as in hostile takeovers. No prisoners.
“Oh, Christ,” she whispered and punched a phone number.
“Hello,”