A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [155]
“Adultery is a man’s misdemeanor and a woman’s felony,” Greer said.
“Who knows?” Mal asked.
“We and the principals. They do not know that I know. My educated guess is that Tomtree is oblivious of it.”
Quinn saw Rita shaken up by it all. His hand pressed her shoulder. “That’s all we need to hear,” he said. “We are going to do absolutely nothing except to vow to each other to do absolutely nothing. Done. End of discussion.”
“That is extremely decent of you, Governor,” Greer exploded. “But do you have any idea of the broadsides these people are going to fire at you on the Internet and TV and in the press? And don’t tell me the American people can tell the difference.”
“Quinn, if Tomtree found out, he’d want to keep a lid on it until after the election. Then he’d let it fly. This is a real ace in the hole. We squeeze just a little bit on the debate negotiations,” Mal said.
“I said no, and I mean no. Maybe I’ve come this far on the dead bodies of those kids in Six Shooter Canyon. No, no, no, no!”
“Vintage O’Connell!” Greer snapped. “Woweeeee!”
The four of them gasped at each other, as fighters who had gone a nonstop round.
“Maybe it is vintage O’Connell,” Rita said. “Maybe a lot of people out there are beginning to understand what kind of man he is. Maybe he’s the last honest politician the world will ever see. Maybe the thought of hurting me makes it too difficult for him to bear. Maybe he is self-destructing. But he’s a Marine. Take him or cut bait.”
Oh, man, did Rita chill them out.
“I need your promise you’ll never mention Pucky or your resignation,” Quinn said.
“Shit,” Mal groaned. “All right, include me in. You’ve my word.”
“It remains between us,” Greer promised.
Chapter 42
At the last moment Greer decided she needed Rae O’Connell with her and Mal in Chicago. Rae, a successful, computer-oriented businesswoman, had run the electronics at her dad’s Denver headquarters. After she gleaned and analyzed the incoming messages, she gave them to Greer, in order of priority.
The last time Greer had been on the road without Rae, her work had backed up unmercifully.
Overnight bags packed and ready to go, Greer had the charter jet switch to Colorado Springs in order to avoid a possible media alert.
Their red-eye express set down in the private-plane section of Midway Airport, where a limo pulled alongside, and they drove off to the Schweitzer Mansion on Lake Shore Drive, a Republican halfway house, and site of secret rendezvous.
The mansion was century-old-mahogany-and tapestry-clad. Each bedroom held a ponderous four poster, and each bathroom had a freestanding sink, pipes to heat towels, and crested linens. It said “robber baron” all over it. The present Schweitzers lived magnificently on the old fortune. They were Chicago denizens of high order.
Alma, a robust former mezzosoprano, greeted them and ushered each to their suites. Kurt Schweitzer was in Washington until after the election.
Darnell Jefferson would be arriving at dawn. A meeting in Mr. Schweitzer’s study was called for ten in the morning.
Greer, Mal, and Rae went into power sleeps, after which they loaded up on orange juice and danish followed by a large transfusion of coffee.
Ten o’clock.
Darnell spilled out of Mr. Schweitzer’s chair.
“Greer!”
Jesus, he looked great, she thought. The wiry, bubbly white hair against his milk chocolate skin. Even in relaxed clothing he appeared like a model.
“Hi, handsome,” she said, running her fingers through his hair and giving him a hug and peck. “This is Professor Maldonado, and this is Rae O’Connell, the governor’s daughter.”
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Darnell said to Mal. “I have a pair of your figurines in my home.”
“Really? Which ones?”
“Russian ladies.”
Mal smiled. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah.”
“I asked Mrs. Schweitzer last night,” Rae said, “to set me up as close to you as possible on a secure phone. I’ll have to run messages to Greer during your meeting.”
The study was pure Teddy Roosevelt, with