Atropos by William L. Deandrea Read Free Book Online Page B

furious; and since he’ll probably be out of it anyway, he’ll do the best he can to screw you. And if he gets the nomination in spite of you, he’ll wind up President, and you’ll find yourself really inconvenienced.”
    “You think so?”
    “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t think so.”
    Hank rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. Ainley wished he knew who the hell Hank had been listening to. Ainley had really only noticed it recently, but once he did, it became apparent that Hank had been taking advice elsewhere since shortly after the fire.
    “Have you been talking to some reporter?” Ainley demanded.
    Hank jumped.
    “It would be like you,” Ainley said. “Having some hack work on your memoirs for years at a time, strung along with tips and leaks. And it wouldn’t be long before you let him tell you how to behave so the book would come out the best read.”
    “Ainley, don’t be ridiculous.”
    “It’s hard sometimes, considering the kinds of things I have to deal with.”
    “Ainley, I promise you, I’m not talking to any reporters. I’m not talking to anyone but you.”
    Ainley looked at him. He used to be able to tell when Hank was lying, but that was getting harder all the time.
    Hank smiled. Even Ainley, who knew infinitely better, could feel the charm of that smile. “How’s Mark doing?” Hank asked.
    That was another thing. Hank loved his son, so he said, but it was Ainley to whom Mark wrote his letters. Hank didn’t seem to mind. Since he’d divorced Ella, Hank had no interest in anything but the perks of Senatorial power and rucking. He acted as if his beloved son were a pleasant acquaintance and nothing more.
    “He’s coming to town in a few days.”
    “Oh,” Hank said. “School over?”
    Mark, after a few years of living on the family trust, was now attending Whitten College Law School. Both things were family traditions. He was also not attending Whitten College Law School, when his spirit moved him to be someplace else. This was also a family tradition. When Van Horns needed to pass the bar exam, the bar exam was passed. Attendance at classes was a necessity only for lesser mortals.
    “He just wants to visit,” Ainley said.
    “Oh.” Hank said. “How nice. I’ll have my secretary tell Mrs. Rodriguez to prepare his room.”
    “He’ll stay here with me, Senator,” Ainley said.
    Hank nodded, as though pondering a question of monumental importance. “That’s probably best,” he announced. “Lot of committee work coming up, and all the press fallout from Iowa, too.”
    “Yes, Senator,” Ainley said. He forbore to point out that as head man of the Senator’s staff, he’d be busy too. Part of the idea of the visit was for Mark to get some hands-on experience of the maneuvering at the fringes of a Presidential election.
    “I don’t know how much I’ll be home, anyway.”
    “Yes, Senator.”
    “But I want to get together with him.” Hank frowned, then brightened.
    “I’ll have Nancy check the calendar, and any lunch or dinner that isn’t spoken for belongs to Mark.”
    “That’s first-class, Senator,” Ainley assured him. He showed Hank out. After he was gone, Ainley looked at the door for a few seconds, slowly shaking his head.

Chapter Six
New York, New York
    S OMEONE KNOCKED ON THE door. Arnie ignored it, he was too busy on the phone. Sometimes he wished he had never stopped free-lancing, had never opened Power Dish Communications in the basement of his apartment building in the East Eighties. He was just too damned busy.
    Arnie had no idea where they came from. He had deliberately picked a place in a residential neighborhood to keep the clientele down to pros and people he knew. And he didn’t put on the dog. The store looked just like his workshop had when he was doing security stuff. Maybe it was the sign Sally had given him as a gag, the black-and-red-and-white painting of a chick in a bikini holding a handful of lightning bolts. She was the “Power