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For the past year Ke
In one swoop, Ke
Still, Ke
But then that city employee-Gary Moss-had summoned up his courage and gone to the FBI with evidence of a huge kickback scheme involving school construction and maintenance. Early investigations showed that wiring and masonry were so shoddy in some schools that faculty and students were at serious physical risk. The scandal kept growing and, it turned out, involved a number of contractors and subs and high-ranking District officials, some of them Ke
Ke
Fighting back, the mayor had done what he did best: He gave dozens of speeches describing the importance of the plan, he horse-traded with Congress and the teachers' union to shore up support, he even accompanied kids home from school to talk to their astonished parents about why Project 2000 was important to everyone in the city. The figures in the polls stabilized and it seemed to Ke
But then the Digger arrived… murdering with impunity, escaping from crowded crime scenes, striking again. And who got blamed? Not the faceless FBI. But everyone's favorite target: Jerry Ke
And this was the reason that Jefferies was on the phone at the moment. The aide put his hand over the receiver.
"He's here," Jefferies said.
"Where?" Ke
"Right outside. In the hallway." Then he examined the mayor. "You're having doubts again?"
How trim the man was, Ke
"Sure, I'm having doubts."
The mayor looked out of another window-one that didn't offer a view of the Capitol. He could see, in the distance, the logotype tower of Georgetown University. His undergrad alma mater. He and Claire lived not far away from the school. He remembered, last fall, the two of them walking up the steep stairway the priest had tumbled down at the end of The Exorcist.
The priest who sacrificed himself to save the girl possessed by a demon.
Now, there's an omen for you.
He nodded. "All right. Go talk to him."
Jefferies nodded. "We'll get through this, Jerry. We will." Into the phone he said, "I'll be right out."
In the hallway outside of the mayor's office a handsome man in a double-breasted suit leaned against the wall, right below a portrait of some nineteenth-century politician.
Wendell Jefferies walked up to him.
"Hey, Wendy."
"Slade." This was the mans first name, his real given name, believe it or not, and-with the surname Phillips-you'd think his parents had foreseen that their handsome infant would one day be a handsome anchorman for a TV station. Which in fact he was.
"Got the story on the sca
On the air, with an earplug wire curling down his razor-cleaned neck, Phillips talked differently. In public he talked differently. With white people he talked differently. But Jefferies was black and Slade wanted him to think he talked the talk.
Phillips continued. "Capped one, I think."
Jefferies didn't point out to the newscaster that in gangsta slang the verb "cap" meant "shoot to death" not "chandelier to death."
"Nearly got the perp but he booked."
"That's what I heard," Jefferies said.
"So the man's go
Jefferies had no patience today to coddle the likes of Slade Phillips. He didn't smile. "Here it is. This quote dude's go
"How dangerous is-"
Jefferies waved him quiet. "This is as bad as it gets."
"I know that."
"Everybody's going to be looking at him."
Him. Uppercase H. Jerry Ke
"Sure."
"So, we need some help," Jefferies said, lowering his voice to a pitch that resonated with the sound of money changing hands.
"Help."
"We can go twenty-five on this one."
"Twenty-five."
"You bargaining?" Jefferies asked.
"No, no. Just… that's a lot. What do you want me to do?"
"I want him-"
"Ke
Jefferies sighed. "Yes. Him. To get through this like he's a hero. I mean, the hero. People're dead and more people're probably go
"Off-?"
"The mayor," Jefferies said. "Ke
"No, he's not the one ru
"Right," Jefferies said. "If there's any glitch make sure he wasn't informed and that he did his best to make it right."
"Well, it's a Feebie operation, right? So we can just-"
"That's true, Slade, but we don't want to go blaming the Bureau for anything." Jefferies talked to his ten-year-old nephew in just this tone.
"We don't? Why exactly?"
"We just don't."
Finally Slade Phillips, used to reading off of a TelePrompTer, had had it. "I don't get it, Wendy. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to play real reporter for a change."
"Sure." Phillips began writing copy in his head. "So Ke
"With his wife," Jefferies said patiently.
Phillips nodded toward the press room. "But wait-they were saying… I mean, the guy from the Post said Ke
"No, no, he went to the families who wanted to remain anonymous. He's been doing it all day."
"Oh, he has?"
It was amazing what $25,000 could buy you, Jefferies thought.
Phillips added, "That was good of him. Real good."