No Safe Place by Richard North Patterson Read Free Book Online Page A

excuses. “There’s something else,” she said more evenly.
    “What’s that?”
    “I have my own biases here.” She paused, choosing her words with care. “When I first came to the Hill, Kerry Kil-cannon helped me get oriented and gave me a little credibility. I liked him, and I came to respect him as a senator. I
don’t
admire Dick Mason: to me, he’s one of those politicians who view everything, including dead African babies, in terms of their career. Unless Kilcannon’s completely changed, I know who
I’d
vote for. I worry about my own professionalism here.”
    There was a moment’s silence, and then Hal responded in a voice of strained patience. “
All
reporters have personal feelings, Lara. We
all
vote for someone.”
    Lara felt sick at heart. She could go over his head to the president of NBC News, but what could she say? Only the truth would get her off this assignment. And the truth could destroy not just her career, but his.
    “Seven days,” she said at length.
    “That’s right.”
    Mechanically, Lara walked to her desk and picked up a pen. “Give me some names—campaign manager, communications director, press secretary, press travel person.”
    He did that. Lara found herself staring at the name Clayton Slade.
    “Do you have their schedule tomorrow? Where they start, where they’ll have been by the time I catch up?”
    “Sure. I’ll fax it to you.”
    Lara thanked him, and got off.
    She was still sitting at her desk, hands over her face, when the fax came through.
    She picked it up. The Kilcannon campaign was overnighting at the Hyatt in downtown San Diego. With the three-hour time difference, it was roughly one-thirty.
    Lara waited until eight forty-five, just before the limousine came, to place the call.
    At six o’clock, when the Secret Service escorted Kerry back to his room, Clayton was waiting. He had already brewed the pot of coffee provided by the hotel.
    Kerry wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Good workout?” Clayton asked.
    Kerry stopped to look at him; if Clayton had a weakness, it was his discomfort with confronting Kerry in personal matters. Clayton had that look now—narrow-eyed and pained, like a man with an unaccustomed hangover. His bulky form slumped in the chair.
    “What is it?” Kerry asked.
    Clayton sat back, watching his friend’s face. “Lara Costello just called me.”
    Kerry felt himself become still.
    “She’s replacing Mike Devore.” Clayton’s voice was quiet, unhappy. “She clearly doesn’t know if
I
know, but she figures I probably do.”
    It was hard for Kerry to respond. “What did she say? Exactly.”
    “It was very understated, professional. She’s joining us today in Los Angeles. She’ll be gone after Tuesday. There was no one else to take Mike’s place.” Clayton folded his hands. “What she was telling me, between the lines, is that she couldn’t get out of it. I think she wanted you to be prepared but didn’t feel it was right to call you. I certainly agree with that.”
    Kerry tried to absorb this. “How did she sound?”
    “Like I said, professional.” Clayton’s voice softened. “I don’t know her, Kerry. It just seems like I do.”
    Kerry stood, arms crossed, head down.
    “I’m sorry,” Clayton said. “It’s bad timing. A few hours isn’t long to get used to this.”
    Kerry rubbed the bridge of his nose. After a time, he murmured, “I’ll be all right.”
    “You’ll have to be.” Clayton rose from his chair. “There’s a speech that goes with this, pal, and it’s my bad luck to have to give it. Remember how we always used to know who was screwing who at the prosecutor’s office? The only clueless ones were the couple themselves—somehow they always thought they were invisible.
    “You’re a candidate for President of the United States. The reporters who follow you around are trained observers, at the top of their game, out of their minds half the time with too fucking little to think about. Start giving