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Ben and Lucien stood in the hallway.

“Coffee?” a receptionist asked.

“No thanks,” Ben said, and stepped further into the hallway. To the right, a large sliding door revealed an office area that was nicely integrated into the architecture of the small mansion. The secretary’s computer monitor was tucked deep within a rolltop desk; the lamp appeared to be solid brass.

A young woman came out of the back office, and extended her hand to Lucien. “Teri Wheeler,” she said.

Ben recognized her from the photos immediately. She was tall, with an athletic grace, dark green eyes, honey blond hair. When he shook her hand, he was surprised by the warmth of her touch.

“Pretty impressive lot, aren’t they?” she said, looking in the direction of the two women on her staff. Both smiled back at him sweetly.

Ben smiled back without answering. They were a little too perfect for his taste. As was Teri herself, on first impression. Striking profile, flawless skin. Her dark blue business suit was nicely cut, accentuating her long legs.

But there was a vitality to her, a secret amusement behind those green eyes, as if she saw what he saw and it tickled her too. She said, “Let me give you the nickel tour.”

With what appeared to be practiced ease, she gave them a quick history while walking through the building. She revealed a large dining room with an enormous cherry table with seating for twenty. A beautiful chandelier hung overhead. “We frequently host dinners that bring the right people together.” She led them on to a well-appointed library, complete with leather chairs, an enormous hearth, and access to a stone patio through leaded glass doors.

She said, “The NESF is not simply a business organization. In addition to our agenda supporting initiatives within our industry-— such as legislation affecting Internet standards and software copyright—we also place an emphasis on supporting leaders who represent strong family values and a traditional moral structure. This is somewhat contrary to the viewpoint of our counterparts in Cupertino and San Jose, which is why we felt a New England-based foundation was necessary. Our tools are communication, education, and we’re supportive of legislation that furthers the values we esteem.” Over the hearth, she showed them a black and white portrait photo of a slightly priggish-looking man who appeared to be in his sixties. His head was cocked back, perhaps to thrust his otherwise weak chin out further. “Alexander Goodhue, our founder.”

Ben stepped forward, inspecting the photo closely. He thought he recognized the style, and indeed, there was the small signature of the photographer. Leonard Penn, one of the top corporate photographers on the East Coast. Ben had forgotten Goodhue Corporation was one of Leonard’s major accounts.

“Terrible picture,” a voice said from behind them.

“Oh, Alex.” Teri Wheeler’s smile was a wonder: teasing, radiant, and yet demure at the same time.

Goodhue looked at Ben and winked. “No offense to your profession, of course.”

Goodhue was over six feet tall and more physically imposing than the photograph would have suggested. He wore a well-cut sport jacket and wool slacks. His eyes were a bright blue and a bristling gray beard took care of the weak chin.

Teri Wheeler said, “Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce the two of you to Alexander Goodhue. When I explained to him your concerns, he asked to join us for this interview.”

Goodhue focused his attention on Lucien. With the easy shift of a man long accustomed to authority, his features hardened. “We all have our jobs to do in life, and I realize you have yours. Nevertheless, what I understand you’re about now is a damaging, unnecessary, and entirely erroneous little mission. And I’d like to talk with you about it before it goes any further. Your office, Teri?”

“Please,” she said, gesturing him forward.

As she lead them past her receptionist to her office, Lucien wiped his mouth nervously. Ben remembered him doing that before the meeting with Cheever, and he sighed internally. If intimidation was what Teri Wheeler had in mind by pulling Goodhue out of a hat, it was working.

She gestured for both of them to sit on the couch, and sat in the chair across from them. “Mr. Harris, I must admit I didn’t know that you would be joining us today. You’re welcome, of course, but I ask that you don’t take any pictures.”

“Certainly not,” Goodhue said. He pulled up a chair and leaned forward. “And, in fact, I must take exception to Teri’s earlier reference to this as an ‘interview.’ “

She dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment.

He continued. “What I’d like to have here is a
conservation.
Off the record.”

Lucien appeared troubled, but after a moment’s hesitation, he said, “That’s fine.”

Ben looked at him. “Really?”

Lucien’s face flushed. “That’s what I said. Off the record.”

Goodhue smiled, benevolently. “I see we’ll be taking questions from both quarters. That’s fine. I’m here for two reasons. One, to protect the interests of an employee who I trust and admire. And …” Here he smiled apologetically at Teri Wheeler. “… perhaps more importantly, our affiliation with Senator Cheever. Ms. Wheeler is our link with him, and she’s done a tremendous job. She came to me because she was concerned about the damage a scandal could do to both us and him—and, perhaps it sounds grandiose—and to the country at large if his position is weakened.’’

Teri said, “It would be one thing if there was any truth to your supposition. But there simply is not. May I see the photographs you showed the senator? He and I have of course talked about this … situation.”

Although she chose her words carefully, Ben didn’t get the feeling she was particularly nervous.

Lucien pulled out his manila envelope and laid out the shots. Goodhue looked over them as well.

He said, “What’s the harm here?”

“Lucien said to Teri, “Can you could tell us about your relationship with the senator?”

“I’ll be delighted,” she said, glancing quickly at Goodhue. She held her palm out to reveal her office, a big, conservatively decorated room with a beautiful wooden desk and windows that looked out onto a small rose garden. “This is my relationship with him. The NESF.”

“You have no other feelings for him?”

“Actually, I do.” Her smile was brilliant. “I think the senator is a wonderful man, a committed statesman, and a force for Massachusetts. He broke the Democratic stranglehold on Massachusetts against Senator Kennedy …”

“And you know how hard that was to achieve,” Goodhue said.

Teri continued. “The senator did that based upon keeping his word. The public is crying out for someone they can trust, and he is that man. I believe that if he continues on track, he could well be the next GOP candidate for president.”

Lucien nodded.

Ben said, “Ms. Wheeler, what can you tell us about your personal relationship?”

She turned her attention to him. “I believe I answered that. However, I will say that I’m pleased to call him my friend. A
married
friend. That means something to him and it means something to me.’’ She looked at Lucien and then Ben. “And it means what you are chasing here can ruin the ambitions of one man who is doing his life’s work, embarrass and hurt his family, and damage my career as well. For what? Me doing my job.” She gestured to the pictures. “There’s no evidence of a romantic liaison here for a simple reason—we’re not having one.”

Lucien made a feeble comeback. That she and Cheever were alone together in the town house, that they were drinking …

She was too polite to laugh at him, but Goodhue wasn’t.

“For God’s sake, gentlemen. So what if she was alone with him in his town house? I’ve been his visitor, too, am I suspected of having an affair with him?” He laughed at his own comment and then said, “Isn’t she being accused of impropriety simply because she is an attractive young woman?”

Lucien glanced at Ben and gave a slight shrug. He shifted, getting ready to leave. “I really don’t have any more questions.”

Ben asked her, “How much does NESF provide to Senator Cheever’s campaigns?”

“The legal limit,” she said. “It’s a matter of public record.”

“All from Goodhue Industries?”

“Not at all,” she said. “We also raise funds from individuals and corporations.”

“And influence others to make contributions independent of you?”

She smiled, as if to a child. “I am guilty of participating in politics in America, yes.”

“Some of those others going through you … do any of them include Johansen’s Free America organization?”

“They do not,” Goodhue snapped. “While we are a more conservative organization than is perhaps typical for the software industry overall, we avoid extremist organizations. They would only be damaging to us.”

“And what do you ask the senator for in return for these contributions?”

“What anyone in our position asks,” Teri said. “That he be true to the vision for which he was elected. That he understands the issues in our industry and makes well-informed decisions.”

“You feel he keeps his promises?”

“He makes no promises to us,” Teri said. “However, I share the public’s enthusiasm for the man. He’s committed to his ideals. Go read his speeches—and then look at his voting record, Mr. Harris.”

“I have,” Ben said. Which was true. He had suspected Lucien wouldn’t come prepared and so Ben had waded through
Insider’
s fat clippings folder on Cheever while keeping up his surveillance on McGuire. Ben had also tried, unsuccessfully, to chase down who might have tipped off Peter about the senator’s supposed infidelity in the first place.

The file showed that Cheever voted a straight right-wing ticket pretty much down the line. Anti-abortion, anti-gay rights, active welfare reform agenda. He was a strong campaigner for federal funding for Massachusetts as well as recruiting new businesses to the state. The only step out of line was that he voted for a ban on assault rifles and a waiting period for handguns—a stand that had drawn considerable heat from his own party, faint praise from the Democrats, and the widespread public impression that he was a man who was truthful to his ideals. By and large Ben shared that opinion, even if he disagreed with many of Cheever’s political views.

“Guys,” Teri said, “You really have nothing here. Don’t damage us without cause.”

Goodhue turned back to Ben and Lucien. He said, “Understand something. Maybe the rest of the country has turned to the media and Hollywood for their values. But people like Senator Cheever, and like me, and Miss Wheeler here, care deeply about how we are presented to the outside world. Can I assume this business is settled or do we need to take a more formal route?”

Lucien cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve got to talk to my editor again. But I think from my earlier conversations with him and from what you said today, this is probably the end of it. Unless some other evidence comes to light.”

Teri Wheeler sat back. “Good. There’s nothing else to come to light, so there’s no story.”

Goodhue looked at Teri. “I believe you’re all set here?”

Ben watched the two of them carefully. Wondering what there was between them exactly.

“Thank you for your support, Alex,” she said.

Goodhue stood and put out his hand to Lucien. “It’s been a pleasure talking with you, Lucien. And Ben.” Goodhue put his hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “Now, will you call the senator and tell him just what you told us? I’m sure it’ll be a relief.”

Lucien was smiling now, apparently looking forward to a friendly conversation with the senator. “I’ll be happy to.”

CHAPTER 18

BOTH BEN AND LUCIEN WERE QUIET ON THE DRIVE BACK TO THE magazine. They pulled into the parking garage, and headed up the stairway to the office.

“So that’s what you’re going to tell Kurt?” Ben asked.

Lucien shrugged. “We’ve got shit.”

“You don’t think it was interesting that a CEO was acting like some sort of corporate legal counsel?”

“I think it means Goodhue is boffing her himself and wanted to see what the pictures showed.”

“There was something between them, but I didn’t necessarily catch that,” Ben said. “Why would she say anything to him at all until she saw the photos herself?”

“Don’t know. Still means we’ve got shit as far as Cheever’s concerned.” Lucien continued to jog up the stairs. Ben shook his head. Lucien, the tough guy—now that he wasn’t face to face with somebody who might hurt his career.

As they walked into the office, Lucien said, “I’ll brief with Kurt myself.’’ He hurried away, not waiting for an answer.

Ben was considering following him in anyhow, when Sarah came out of her office. “Turn yourself around, partner.” She slipped the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “We’re headed out.”

“What’s up?” Ben asked.

“An interview with McGuire,” Sarah said. “Interested?”

The receptionist, Suzanne, let them into the office waiting room. McGuire was on the phone inside his office, and he looked at them, but didn’t acknowledge them.