“It will be if they spot somebody matching the description. Did you see any of these people before they started banging on your car?”
“Yes, come to think of it. As I left the Carlyle I saw somebody dressed in black—I assumed it was some sort of rainwear—and carrying something, though I couldn’t tell what, it was raining so hard.”
“Headed toward Park?”
“Yes, on the downtown side of the street. Does that matter?”
“I have no idea, I’m just being thorough.”
“Have you had any reports of further Bentley abuse today?”
“Not yet, but I’ve had a hot call from the Bentley distributor, demanding action. Nothing from the Rolls people.”
Stone laughed.
“Did you get your car fixed?” Dino asked.
“Yes, it took a couple of hours, but Strategic Services came up with a window and installed it. The other two windows were unmarked. The workman said they should have used a pickax.”
“Why?”
“Because a pickax is pointed, and it would have had a better chance of penetrating the armored glass because it would have concentrated the force into a smaller area than a sledgehammer.”
“Shall I put out an APB on people buying pickaxes?”
“Why not? Anything at all on the woman who bought the sledgehammers?”
“No, the store said she wasn’t a regular customer.”
“After all, how many sledgehammers does a girl need?”
“Only three, apparently. I guess they last awhile. Is there anything else your police department can do for you today?”
“Nope. Keep up the good work.”
Dino hung up.
Joan came in with the New York Post and put it on his desk. “Your incident of yesterday made the Post,” she said.
LUXURY CARS ATTACKED WITH SLEDGEHAMMERS!, the headline screamed. The article was short, though, and there was no theory on why.
“I guess the Times ignored it,” Stone said. “At least, I didn’t see anything about it.”
“Not shocking enough,” she said, then went back to her desk.
A little farther inside the Post was an editorial on Holly’s appearance at the UN. WOUNDED MADAM SECRETARY KNOCKS ONE OUT OF THE PARK, read the headline, and all two paragraphs were entirely favorable. “Have we got a President-in-the-making here?” it finished. Stone reflected that Dino thought the bullet was meant for him, not Holly. The ex-con gunman, shot by Fred, had not been found to have a motive to shoot either Stone or Holly, and the case had petered out.
Stone picked up the Times and turned to the op-ed page. There was Gloria’s piece. “Barker throws her shoulder into the ring?” read the lead. Stone read on: “Secretary of State Holly Barker, substituting at the UN for the President, brought the General Assembly to its collective feet when she appeared with her arm in a sling, albeit a silken one from Hermès. This is surely the first time a wounded Cabinet member has risen from a hospital bed after an assassination attempt to address the world. It must be something like the reception Abraham Lincoln would have received in Congress had his wound been to the shoulder, instead of to the head.
“President Katharine Lee, who of late has been somewhat unpopular in certain quarters of the international community, thus won a victory for her policies by the simple device of not showing up, and instead dispatching her glamorous secretary of state to stand in for her.
“Secretary Barker has recently been seen with her president in half a dozen appearances where one might not expect a Cabinet member to be seen in such high company, which indicates both her high standing in her boss’s opinion and maybe even a hint as to whom the President might like to see succeed her in office. There seems to be a widespread view in both houses of Congress that the President could do a lot worse than Holly Barker.”
? ? ?
IT WENT ON like that for another six paragraphs. Stone found a pair of scissors in his desk drawer and clipped both the Times op-ed piece and the Post editorial. He buzzed Joan.
“Yes, boss?”
“Didn’t somebody give me a nice leather scrapbook for Christmas a couple of years ago?”
“Yes, boss, I’ve been keeping it in the hope that you might do something that would engender some favorable press clippings.”
“Forget about that, but bring me the scrapbook, please.”
Joan hustled into his office and removed the album from its box.
Stone handed her the clippings. “You are now the official archivist for our secretary of state,” he said.
“Soon to be our next President?”
“You didn’t hear that from me,” Stone said. She took the clippings and the album and returned to her office.
3
JOAN BUZZED STONE. “Will you speak to the secretary of state?”
“I will deign to do so,” Stone replied drily. He picked up the phone. “Stone Barrington.”
“Mr. Barrington, the secretary of state is on the line,” a young man said.
“Good morning,” Holly said.
“And to you. I trust you’ve seen this morning’s papers.”
“I have. The Times piece by . . . that woman was very nice.”
“I thought so, too, as was the Post, the New York one.”
“That Post has not winged its way to my desk as of yet, but the Post down here published an overnight poll showing Kate with a sixty-one percent approval rating—not at all bad for a second-term President—but me with a sixty-nine percent rating. It was very embarrassing.”
“Have you heard from Kate on the subject?”
“She called me at seven o’clock this morning, laughing like hell.”
“That’s our Kate.”
“She warned me not to try and stay out of trouble and just coast on my approval ratings. She thinks I have to deal with something controversial right away, to show I’m not an airhead. She’s already looking for something to throw at me.”
“Sounds like you’ve acquired a campaign manager.”
“I’m afraid she’s going to foist the new Russian president on me.”
“That would certainly be good practice for you.”
“I didn’t like the last one, and I don’t like this one, either.”
“Then that’s a good place to start.”
“Did you hear all of my speech to the UN?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’ll remember the part where I said to the Russians that if they want the sanctions lifted, to just get out of the Crimea?”
“The whole world heard that—it’s one of the reasons you’re so popular this morning.”
“Well, I think my next step is going to be to recommend to the President that we nominate Ukraine for membership in NATO.”
“Well, that should be enough controversy to keep you busy for a while. Is that what Kate wants to do?”
“In the best of all possible worlds, yes, but she’s unlikely to say so anytime soon.”
“But you’ll be on record as having proposed it.”
“See how smart Kate is? Everybody will remember that I said that, and if Kate ever gets around to doing it, they’ll give me the credit for moving her my way.”
“Kate is very smart indeed.”
“Well, I think I’ll anticipate her and get started on a draft of my recommendation.”
“Good idea. Call anytime.”
“When you least expect it,” she said, and hung up.
Joan came on immediately. “Dino called while you were talking. Want me to get him back for you?”
“Yes, please.”
She buzzed, and Stone picked up. “Hello again.”
“I want to read you a press release.”
“Shoot.”
“‘The New York City Police Department has conducted a thorough investigation of the assassination attempt on the secretary of state on New Year’s Eve—’”