“Or perhaps she does understand the impact of her decisions,” Black suggested. “When her grandfather held that seat, he voted against the minimum wage, against the equality act, against tax breaks for lower earners. Yet he pushed forward legislation that reduced estate tax and increased the lifetime exemption.” Black’s lips flickered in a poor imitation of a smile. “I should have sent him a crate of champagne. The asshole saved me a fucking fortune.” He quickly turned serious again. “But no matter. Kyla claims she’s running in his memory, doesn’t she?”
“Yes,” Harrison agreed.
“And since she personally benefited from her grandfather’s decisions, it stands to reason that she understands the influence she’d wield.”
“That’s worse than the alternative.”
“It is. And she’s not as clueless as you think. Power-hungry, yes. Narcissistic, yes. Devoid of empathy, yes. But not stupid.”
James sighed long and hard and reached for a glass of wine. “She’s running a smart campaign. Where her policies are unpalatable, she’s using her gender to appeal to women and her looks to appeal to men.”
Emmy burst out laughing. “Dude, look in the mirror. Do you have any idea how many women decided to vote for you after those shirtless pictures got splashed across the tabloids?”
“Why do you think I went surfing the weekend before the election? I froze my damn nuts off.”
Another smirk from Black. “Which was why I advised you not to wear Speedos.”
Why didn’t it surprise Alaric to find out Black had been involved in that plan? Running a presidential campaign cost a fortune, and although Harrison had a lot of grassroots support, Alaric suspected some of Black’s estate tax savings had also been funnelled in his old friend’s direction. The men might have fought over Emmy, but they still shared certain goals. And Black understood the nuances of power better than anybody.
“Can we stay on topic?” Emmy asked. “I don’t need to think about Speedos or shrivelled nuts tonight. Irvine Carnes?”
“We spoke most weeks,” James said. “He was Ranking Member on the Foreign Relations Committee, and I valued his advice. But he’s sick. Cancer. That’s why he stepped down. I wonder whether medication could be impairing his judgement, because I don’t have any other explanation for why he’s backing Devane over Biggs. I also hear he’s made a number of poor investment decisions lately.”
“What kind of cancer? Not a brain tumour?”
“It started in his lungs, but it’s spreading. They caught it late. He thought it was bronchitis and put off going to the hospital, then boom. I doubt he has long left. When you ask about this painting, tread carefully. Whatever misjudgements Carnes might have made recently, he’s still served this country well for over three decades.”
Could things get any more complicated?
“I’ll be polite,” Emmy said, and James groaned. “Okay, maybe I’ll let Alaric do the talking,” she conceded.
Gee, thanks.
“I think that would be best. And I know I shouldn’t ask, but if there’s anything you can dig up on Devane…”
“I’ll take my spade.”
“Always comes in handy for burying the bodies,” Black muttered.
James reached forward. “I didn’t hear that. I’m going now.”
The screen went dark.
CHAPTER 4 - EMMY
“WE’RE NOT TAKING the Corvette?” Daniela di Grassi dumped her bag next to my brand-new Range Rover and made a face. “What sort of a road trip is this?”
Originally, Dan had booked this week off to go on vacation with her family, but then Ethan, her significant other, got asked to produce a charity single to raise money for a recent earthquake in Haiti, and he didn’t want to say no. And Caleb, their son, had been more excited about hanging out at the studio with a bunch of pop-star-rock-stars than taking a jaunt to Italy anyway, so they’d postponed the trip until summer. Caleb’s principal would be happy—she hated when Dan snuck him out of school, never mind that seeing the world was more of an education than doing projects on the life cycle of woodlice or whatever he was working on this week.
And me? I was happy too. Dan had been one of my best friends for over a decade, and with so much going on in our lives, we didn’t see enough of each other anymore. An adventure in Kentucky was just what the doctor ordered. Actually, I might need a whole hospital since Dan had offered to share the driving.
“No, we’re not taking the Corvette. Firstly, I can’t fit all my guns in the trunk, and secondly, if you’re taking a turn behind the wheel, this is the vehicle I want to crash in.”
“O ye of little faith.”
“How many times have you crashed this year?”
She counted on her fingers. “Four? Five? Does the fox count? It ran right out in front of me.”
“You needed a new bumper. Yes, it counts.”
“Well, how many speeding tickets has Mack disappeared for you?”
Mackenzie Cain was another of my besties as well as being Blackwood’s best hacker.
“Uh, two.”
“Really? This year? That seems low.”
“This month,” I admitted. “Put your stuff in the car, Dan.”
We’d considered taking the jet, but the helicopter was being serviced—first-world problems—so we’d have had to drive to the airfield anyway. And then we’d have needed a rental car to get around at the other end, and I wouldn’t have had an excuse to road-test my shiny new toy. Kentucky really wasn’t that far.
Bradley bounded through the back door, hauling my suitcase along behind him. “Everything’s packed. Did you eat breakfast yet?”
Not quite everything—I hadn’t paid a visit to the basement armoury yet. But Bradley had sorted out the boring stuff at least.
“I had coffee.”
“You can’t survive on coffee. Mrs. Fairfax made banana muffins, and they’re a-ma-zing.”
Mrs. Fairfax was my housekeeper, and yes, she was an awesome cook. But banana muffins sounded all too healthy. I’d planned to stop for a McDonald’s breakfast en route, but then Toby, my nutritionist, materialised behind Bradley with a paper carrier bag.
“You get muffins and fruit salad, plus sandwiches for lunch. I wouldn’t want you to starve on the way.”
His tone said he knew exactly what I’d been planning. The dude was psychic. Last time I’d stopped for a cheeky cheeseburger on the way home, I’d paid cash and thrown the wrapper in a rubbish bin on the outskirts of Richmond, but somehow, he still knew what I’d done.
“Super, thanks.”
Alaric was borrowing one of Blackwood’s Ford Explorers for the journey, and now Bethany appeared with a single hold-all. Had she finally learned how to pack light?
“You guys ready to go?” I asked.
“Alaric’s on a call, but he said he wouldn’t be long.”
Yeah, right. Alaric could talk for England and America when he got going. Folks, this could take a while. At least it gave me plenty of time to select my hardware, and I could probably fit in some shooting practice too.
“How’s Gemma? Have you spoken to her?”