Melvin Wicks spoke up. “Is there any way we can shut Leslie Stewart up?”
Oliver thought of the passionate evening he had spent with her. “No,” Oliver said. “Freedom of the press, gentlemen.”
Peter Tager turned to the president. “About the governor…?”
“I’ll handle it.” He flicked down an intercom key. “Get me Governor Houston in Denver.”
“We’ve got to start some damage control,” Peter Tager was saying. “I’ll get together statistics on how much crime has gone down in this country, you’ve asked Congress for more money for our police departments, et cetera.” The words sounded hollow even to his own ears.
“This is terrible timing,” Melvin Wicks said.
The intercom buzzed. Oliver picked up the telephone. “Yes?” He listened a moment, then replaced the receiver. “The governor is on her way to Washington.” He looked at Peter Tager. “Find out what plane she’s on, Peter. Meet her and bring her here.”
“Right. There’s an editorial in the Tribune. It’s pretty rough.” Peter Tager handed Oliver the editorial page of the newspaper, PRESIDENT UNABLE TO CONTROL CRIME IN THE CAPITAL. “It goes on from there.”
“Leslie Stewart is a bitch,” Sime Lombardo said quietly. “Someone should have a little talk with her.”
In his office at the Washington Tribune, Matt Baker was rereading the editorial attacking the president for being soft on crime when Frank Lonergan walked in. Lonergan was in his early forties, a bright, street-smart journalist who had at one time worked on the police force. He was one of the best investigative journalists in the business.
“You wrote this editorial, Frank?”
“Yes,” he said.
“This paragraph about crime going down twenty-five percent in Minnesota, that’s still bothering me. Why did you just talk about Minnesota?”
Lonergan said, “It was a suggestion from the Ice Princess.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Matt Baker snapped. “I’ll talk to her.”
Leslie Stewart was on the telephone when Matt Baker walked into her office.
“I’ll leave it to you to arrange the details, but I want us to raise as much money for him as we can. As a matter of fact, Senator Embry of Minnesota is stopping by for lunch today, and I’ll get a list of names from him. Thank you.” She replaced the receiver. “Matt.”
Matt Baker walked over to her desk. “I want to talk to you about this editorial.”
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
“It stinks, Leslie. It’s propaganda. The president’s not responsible for controlling crime in Washington, D.C. We have a mayor who’s supposed to do that, and a police force. And what’s this crap about crime going down twenty-five percent in Minnesota? Where did you come up with those statistics?”
Leslie Stewart leaned back and said calmly, “Matt, this is my paper. I’ll say anything I want to say. Oliver Russell is a lousy president, and Gregory Embry would make a great one. We’re going to help him get into the White House.”
She saw the expression on Matt’s face and softened. “Come on, Matt. The Tribune is going to be on the side of the winner. Embry will be good for us. He’s on his way here now. Would you like to join us for lunch?”
“No. I don’t like people who eat with their hands out.” He turned and left the office.
In the corridor outside, Matt Baker ran into Senator Embry. The senator was in his fifties, a self-important politician.
“Oh, Senator! Congratulations.”
Senator Embry looked at him, puzzled, “Thank you. Er—for what?”
“For bringing crime down twenty-five percent in your state.” And Matt Baker walked away, leaving the senator looking after him with a blank expression on his face.
Lunch was in Leslie Stewart’s antique-furnished dining room. A chef was working in the kitchen preparing lunch as Leslie and Senator Embry walked in. The captain hurried up to greet them.
“Luncheon is ready whenever you wish, Miss Stewart. Would you care for a drink?”
“Not for me,” Leslie said. “Senator?”
“Well, I don’t usually drink during the day, but I’ll have a martini.”
Leslie Stewart was aware that Senator Embry drank a lot during the day. She had a complete file on him. He had a wife and five children and kept a Japanese mistress. His hobby was secretly funding a paramilitary group in his home state. None of this was important to Leslie. What mattered was that Gregory Embry was a man who believed in letting big business alone—and Washington Tribune Enterprises was big business. Leslie intended to make it bigger, and when Embry was president, he was going to help her.