The Stolen - Jason Pinter [13]
Screw them.
The Linwood house was a small, Victorian-style
dwelling, with jigsaw trim and spindles. It was three
stories high, the top floor with a small square window,
most likely an attic rarely used. Two unadorned columns
were mounted on the front porch, the marble clean. The
paint job was an off-white, and looked recently refreshed.
I could see a small swing set around the back, a shovel and
pail sitting abandoned. Surprised a reporter hadn't snagged
it yet. I stepped up to the porch and took a breath, preparing to ring the doorbell.
Just then the front door swung open, nearly knocking
me on my ass, and a caravan of steely-postured suited men
and women came pouring out. The first few were all hefty
men wearing identical pants and blazers. They wore single
wire earpieces, transparent tubing with Star ear-mold
devices. They didn't wear sunglasses, but the bulges in
their jacket pockets said they would be in a matter of
seconds.
I stepped aside. The men paid me no attention, stopping
at the bottom of the porch, hands clasped behind them.
When I turned back to knock, I found myself in front of a
tall, lean man in his early fifties. He had wavy gray hair,
a sharp, equine nose and the slightest onset of crow'sfeet. He wore a smart navy suit and a brilliant smile. I recognized him instantly but tried to hide my surprise. He was
talking to somebody inside I couldn't see, but when he
turned around, the look on his face confirmed that he recognized me, as well. I swallowed hard.
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Jason Pinter
The man cocked his head, flashed that smile again and
put his hand out.
"Henry Parker, right? New York Gazette? "
"Yes, yes, sir." I was flattered that he'd heard of me.
Either that, or he knew why I was here.
"Pleasure to meet you, Henry. Gray Talbot."
"Pleasure to meet you, too, Senator."
Talbot smiled again. "Walk with me for a moment,
won't you, Henry?" It was phrased like the kind of
question you couldn't refuse.
I half nodded, then suddenly Talbot's arm was around
me, leading me down the steps. His grip was just strong
enough to let me know I didn't have a choice, light enough
to let onlookers know this would be a friendly chat. Everything about the man spoke volumes of an effortless confidence, a confidence that had captured the hearts and
minds of New Yorkers desperate for a politician who deep
down wasn't quite a politician.
Gray Talbot was currently in his fourth term as a Democratic New York State senator. In his four elections, he'd
averaged sixty-two percent of the vote, and it was assumed
Talbot would hold that seat until he either retired, died or
decided he preferred a larger, whiter house. Talbot was
currently the third-highest-ranking Democrat in the senate,
behind the senate majority leader and senate majority
whip. As the current majority chairman on the United
States Committee on Banking, Housing, and Urban
Affairs, Talbot was one of the most outspoken proponents
of lowering the federal interest rate. "A home for every
American who wants one" was his slogan. He was often
photographed with his trademark plaything, a Rubik's
Cube, constantly fiddling and working out solutions. He
was quoted as saying the game kept his mind limber. Every
The Stolen
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cube he'd ever completed was kept in his home. Rumor
was he needed a bookcase to house them all.
In the previous election, three years after Daniel
Linwood's disappearance, Gray Talbot had outdone himself, garnering an unheard of seventy-three percent of the
popular vote. And now that man had his arm around me.
Talbot wasn't visiting Daniel Linwood for a simple photoop. The stakes were much higher. Daniel's reappearance
wasn't merely a human-interest story, it was important
enough that one of the most powerful men in the country
made it his business. Yet as we walked, there were no
staged photo-ops. No handshakes. No teary hugs with
Shelly Linwood. Gray Talbot, as far as I could tell, was
here because he wanted to be.
And he was the kind of man who, if he felt like it, could
squash