The Heritage Paper

Chapter 37



Lieutenant Edward Peterson passed through the heavy security outside Jim Kingston’s property. He drove through the gates, passing formal gardens that could have moonlighted as a state park, as he pulled his police cruiser to a stop in front of the mansion. It combined Tudor and Elizabethan revival styles and overlooked the Long Island Sound from its perch in Kings Point. “A man of the people,” Eddie said to himself with a laugh.

He was greeted by Kingston’s security detail. Since Bobby Kennedy’s assassination in 1968, presidential candidates had the right to file for protection with the Federal Election Commission. But Kingston pointed out that it would cost the taxpayer about 50k a day to protect him, so funding his own security scored him some points with the voters.

Eddie was escorted through the grand doorway, into a low-beamed entrance room that contained a fireplace so big you’d have to chop down half a forest to get a good fire going. There, he was greeted by Aligor Sterling, who was flanked by a balding man with a whiny voice that Eddie recognized from TV as Kingston’s campaign manager. A bunch of Sterling’s ass-kissing assistants were also on the welcome committee.

Sterling immediately took control of the room. He might not have been officially in charge of the campaign, but everyone knew he had the most clout. He ordered the group to follow him, and they obliged.

Eddie trailed the group into the two-story Great Room. It was a “stop you in your tracks” room with a grand staircase leading up to a carved balcony. Enormous bay windows provided a magnificent view of the Sound and the beautiful cliffs of the north shore of Long Island.

Sterling wheeled to the window and gazed out. Eddie followed him. It seemed implied that he was supposed to, but he wasn’t sure. After this morning’s events, he was unclear if he remained in good standing.

“It’s a beautiful view isn’t it, Lieutenant Peterson,” Sterling said. His tone differed from the cheery salutations at Jamie’s school.

“Breathtaking,” Eddie replied.

“You can see my estate from here,” Sterling said, pointing at an enormous manor across the water on the hamlet of Sands Point.

“It’s nice and all, but I’m not sure it compares to my rent-controlled one bedroom in the Bronx. Best fire-escape in the neighborhood,” Eddie tried to joke.

Nobody laughed.

“Did you know that Sands Point was the inspiration for the fictional East Egg in the Great Gatsby, while Kings Point inspired West Egg. Did you read Gatsby, Lieutenant Peterson?”

“My rule is if it don’t have a centerfold then I don’t read it. Although, I once convinced Kristi Wallace that I read Shakespeare so I could get in her pants back in high school.”

Sterling ignored him. “Jay Gatsby looked out from West Egg at a light at the end of a dock on East Egg. To him, it represented hope. It represented dreams.”

“Sounds like a real page turner.”

“You see, we are now very close to reaching that light. Tomorrow Jim Kingston will complete the journey to that dock, and will arrive carrying all of our dreams. Do you understand?

Eddie nodded. The message was clear—nothing would stop their dream.

Having made his point, Sterling was on the move again. They passed through a formal dining room and into the library. It featured a large mural of mythological sea creatures on one side. The other side of the room was lined with bookcases. A floor-to-ceiling window provided a view of the expansive front lawn. Eddie focused on the leaves swirling in the wind, which was how his stomach felt at the moment.

Jim Kingston sat behind a large mahogany desk, his ear locked to a landline phone.

The room was filled with his top aides, along with the mayor of New York and the NYPD police commissioner. Eddie was met with a cool reception from all.

Kingston hung up, apologizing for the delay, mentioning that he was talking to his running mate, Senator Langor from Florida. He rose to his feet and approached Eddie. He greeted him with a handshake and pat on the back.

Kingston returned behind his desk and addressed the group, “The reason Eddie is here, along with Mr. Mayor and Mr. Commissioner, is we’ve agreed to coordinate our safety with the city of New York when I give our victory speech tomorrow night at the Waldorf. As you know, Lieutenant Peterson has been chosen to head up the efforts of NYPD.”

Eddie was given the floor. He nervously stammered through the detailed plan they’d been working on for months. The most interesting would be the Long Range Acoustic Devices used to listen in on people’s conversations from as far away as a helicopter.

They would also use traditional tactics such as concrete barriers, while sectioning off areas around the Waldorf with barbed wire. NYPD would be stationed on horseback, bicycles, and in unmarked cars with blacked out windows. A makeshift holding cell had been set up at Pier-57 for those they apprehended.

Eddie began to get his sea-legs and his confidence rose. He skillfully detailed his coordinated efforts with the Technical Assistance Response Unit, who had been filming people in the area for the past week.

Kingston asked the group for feedback and it was negative. Not at the tactics themselves, but Eddie’s presence. A bespectacled pollster warned of plummeting Florida numbers if word got out that Ellen Peterson’s adopted grandson was involved in any way with the campaign.

The campaign manager called for Eddie’s ouster. He then turned to the police commissioner and added, “And it’s not like he earned the position because of his great résumé—he was chosen because he’s a legacy of Harold Peterson.”

Eddie bit his tongue—he could never escape his family history.

Aligor Sterling spoke up, “It was my decision to bring Eddie on because of my fondness for his brother, Carsten Peterson, who was a loyal employee of mine for years. But I must concur with the others …”

Kingston had the final word, “Eddie isn’t going anywhere. He is here for my security. Aligor picked him because loyalty is a family trait of the Petersons. And when someone starts shooting at me, I want a loyal man in charge of protecting me.”