Journey (27 page)

“I'm sorry. It just looked …” She sounded flustered, and felt awful for what she'd thought about him.

“Don't be so quick to point fingers, Mad. What's happening at work?” As he always did, he completely dismissed what she'd said. The only time he hung on to a subject was when it suited his purposes, and this didn't. He had used it to bludgeon her, and as usual, she stood corrected.

In fact, because of what she'd said to him, and what she had thought when she saw the picture of him, he accused her several times of flirting with her new co-anchor on the air. Elliott was young, single, and good-looking, and Jack started telling her that there were rumors about them, which severely upset her. She talked to Bill about it and he pointed out to her that Jack was just trying to divert her attention, but she still thought he believed it and felt terrible about it.

And what he said about Elliott was nothing compared
to what he said about Bill, when someone told him that they had seen them at the Bombay Club, having lunch together.

“Is that why you pulled that crap on me about Annabel's? What was that? Some kind of red herring? Are you fucking that old fart, Mad? If you are, I feel sorry for you. Maybe that's all you can get now.”

“That's disgusting!” She flew at him in a rage, incensed at the accusation and the way he talked about Bill. There was nothing old or dull about Bill. He was interesting and fun and good and decent, and extremely good-looking. And the funny thing was that although he was twenty-six years older than she was, it never even occurred to her when they were together.

And things only got worse when he questioned one of the receptionists behind her back, and she said something inane about Bill's calls. He tricked her into admitting that Bill called Maddy almost every day. Jack was in her office, accusing and threatening her, five minutes later.

“You little whore! What the hell is going on with you two? When did that start? On your goddamn bleeding heart commission about women? Don't forget that that son of a bitch got his wife killed. Maybe he'll do you the same favor if you're not careful.”

“How can you say that?” Tears filled her eyes instantly at the brutality of his words. She didn't know how to defend herself, and there was no way she could prove that she wasn't sleeping with Bill Alexander. “We're just friends. I have never cheated on you, Jack.” The look in her eyes implored him to believe her. Instead of hating him for what he had said to her, she was devastated by it.

“Tell that to someone who believes you. I know better, remember? I'm the guy you lied to about your baby.”

“That was different.” She was sobbing as she sat at her desk, as he pounded her with his words.

“No, it isn't. I don't believe a word you tell me anymore, and why should I? I have every reason not to trust you. Your so-called ‘daughter’ is proof of that, if you need a reminder.”

“We're just friends, Jack,” she was talking about Bill again, and he refused to listen. He slammed out of her office so hard he almost broke the glass door as he left, and Maddy sat shaking at her desk. She was still in tears when Bill called half an hour later, and she explained what had happened to him.

“I don't think you should call me anymore. He thinks we're having an affair.” And they certainly couldn't go to lunch now. She felt as though she were cutting off her life support, but she had no choice, as she saw it. “I'll call you. It's simpler,” she said sadly.

“He has no right to talk to you that way.” Bill was outraged, and she had cleaned it up considerably for him. If he had actually heard what Jack said, he would have been beside himself. “I'm so sorry, Maddy.”

“It's all right. It's my own fault. I made him mad when I accused him of going out with someone in London.”

“You saw a picture of him, for God's sake. That was hardly an unreasonable assumption.” He was convinced Jack had lied to her about it, but he didn't say so. And then, sounding depressed over all of it, he asked her a pointed question. “How much of this are you going to take, Maddy? The man treats you like dirt under his feet. Can't you see that?”

“I see it … but he's right too. I lied to him about Lizzie. I provoke him. I even lie to him about you. I wouldn't want him talking to some woman every day either.”

“Do you want us to stop talking?” Bill asked, sounding panicked. But she was quick to reassure him.

“No, I don't. But I understand how Jack feels.”

“I don't think you have the remotest idea how he feels, or even
if
he feels,” Bill disagreed with her. “I think he's so manipulative and so evil that he knows just how to play you and make you feel guilty. He's the one who should be apologizing to you, and feeling guilty!” He sounded desperately upset as they continued to hash it out, and finally agreed that she would call him every day, and they would put a halt to their lunches for a while, or maybe have lunch from time to time quietly at his place. It seemed sneaky to her too, but it seemed better not to be seen in public, and neither of them wanted to stop seeing each other. She needed at least one friend, and other than Lizzie, he was all she had.

The atmosphere remained tense at home for several days, and then, as luck would have it, she and Jack went to a party at the home of a Congressman Jack knew, and Bill was there. They had gone to college together, and he had forgotten to tell Maddy that he was going.

Jack reacted instantly the moment Bill walked into the room, and he leaned over and squeezed Maddy's arm so hard it was white when he let her go again. But the message to her was clear.

“If you so much as speak to him, I'm going to drag you out of here so fast you won't know what hit you.” He whispered the words close to her ear.

“I understand,” she whispered back. She avoided Bill's eyes, to get the message to him that she couldn't talk to him, and whenever he moved near, she went to stand next to Jack, to reassure him. She looked nervous and pale, and felt awkward for the entire evening, and
when Jack went to the bathroom at one point, she looked at Bill imploringly, and he drifted past her with a worried look. He had instantly seen the tension on her face.

“I can't talk to you … he's furious …”

“Are you okay?” He was sick about her. He had seen what was happening, and had made a point of not saying anything to her.

“I'm fine,” she said, and turned away, but Jack came back just as Bill was walking away from her, and he sensed instantly what had happened. Jack walked purposefully across the room to her and spoke between clenched teeth in a tone that terrified her.

“We're leaving. Get your coat.”

She thanked the hostess graciously, and they left a few minutes later. They were the first to leave, but dinner was over and it didn't cause any comment. Jack had explained that they both had early meetings the next day. Only Bill looked upset after they left, and he knew he couldn't call to find out how she was. Jack was already lashing out at her verbally in the car as they drove away, and she was tempted to jump out of the car and run away. He was in a frenzy over Bill.

“What kind of fool do you think I am, for chrissake? I told you not to talk to him … I saw the look in your eyes when you looked at him … why didn't you just pull up your skirt, rip your pants off, and wave them at him?”

“Jack, please … we're friends, that's all. I told you. He's mourning his wife. I'm married to you. We're on the same commission. That's all there is to it.” She spoke as quietly as she could, trying not to provoke him any further, but it was hopeless. He was in a total rage.

“Bullshit, you little bitch! You know goddamn well what you're doing with him, and so do I. And so does all
of fucking Washington, probably. What kind of fool does that make me? I'm not blind, Maddy, for chrissake. Jesus, the shit I take from you. I just can't believe it.” She said not another word as they drove home, and Jack slammed every door in the house but he never touched her. She lay cowering in their bed all night, terrified of what he would do to her, but he did nothing. And he was as cold as ice the next day when she poured his coffee.

And he issued only one warning. “If you ever speak to him again, I'm going to throw your ass out on the street where you belong. Do you understand?” She nodded silently, fighting back tears, and terrified at the prospect. “I'm not going to put up with that bullshit. You humiliated me last night. You never took your eyes off him, and you looked like a bitch in heat while you did it.” She wanted to argue with him and defend herself, but she didn't dare. She just nodded, and drove with him in silence to the office. The only sensible thing to do after that was to call Bill and tell him she couldn't see or talk to him anymore. And she knew she should. But he was the lifeline she was holding on to, the thin thread between her and the abyss she was so terrified to fall into. And she didn't know what it was, or why, but she knew she had a special bond to him, and no matter how much Jack threatened her, she couldn't give up her contact with Bill, whatever the cost, or the risk. She knew that what she was doing was dangerous, but no matter how sternly she told herself that, what she knew most of all was that she couldn't stop now.

Chapter 17

M
ADDY WAS STILL IN DISGRACE
with Jack, and calling Bill very cautiously every day from her office, when she heard a shout one afternoon from the newsroom. She was talking to Bill at the time, and she listened for a second to the noise outside, and then told him something must have happened.

“I'll call you back,” she said, and hung up, and hurried outside her office to see what the fuss was. Everyone was crowding around a monitor, and at first she couldn't see what they were watching. But within seconds, someone moved aside, and she could hear and see the bulletin that had interrupted all broadcasts on every network. President Armstrong had been shot, and was being rushed by helicopter to Bethesda Naval Hospital in critical condition.

“Oh my God … oh my God …” Maddy whispered … all she could think of as she watched was the First Lady.

“Get your coat!” the producer shouted at her. “We
have a helicopter for you at National.” A cameraman was already standing by and someone handed her her handbag and her coat, and she ran into the elevator without stopping to talk to anyone. The same bulletin had announced that the First Lady was with him. And as soon as Maddy got in the car that was waiting to take her to National, she called the office back on her cell phone. The producer had been standing by, waiting to hear from her.

“How did it happen?” she asked quickly.

“They don't know yet. Some guy just came out of a crowd at him and shot him. One of the Secret Service guys took a hit, but no one's dead yet.”
Yet.
That was the key word here.

“Is he going to make it?” She had her eyes closed as she listened.

“We don't know that yet either. It doesn't look good. There's blood all over the place on what they're showing now. They just showed it all in slow motion. He was shaking hands as he left some perfectly innocuous group, and a guy who looks like
Father Knows Best
just let him have it. They got him. He's in custody now, but they haven't released his name yet.”

“Shit.”

“Stay in touch. Get everything you can. Doctors, nurses, Secret Service. The First Lady, if they let you see her.” He knew they were friends, and no relationships were sacred in this business. She knew they expected her to fully exploit every possible opportunity, no matter how tasteless. “We've got a crew going out to meet you by car, if you need a break. But I want you on this one.”

“I know. I know.”

“And stay off your phone, in case we have to call you.”

“I'll be in touch.” She turned the radio on in the car, but it was all the same thing for the next five minutes, and hesitating for only a fraction of an instant, she called Bill, to let him know where she was going. “I can't stay on long,” she explained rapidly. “I have to keep the line clear. Have you heard?”

“I just heard it on the radio. My God, I can't believe it.” It was like Kennedy all over again, except it was worse. This wasn't just politics or history. She knew them.

“I'm on my way to Bethesda now. I'll call you.”

“Be careful.” There was no need for her to be. She was in no danger. But he said it anyway, and after they hung up, he stared out the window into his garden, thinking about her.

For the next five hours, Maddy's life was completely crazy. There was an area roped off for the press at the hospital, and coffee stations for them outside. The press secretary came to talk to them every half hour. And they were all trying to corner every possible member of hospital personnel they could. But for the moment, there was no news, and no story.

The President had been in surgery since noon, and at seven o'clock, he hadn't come out yet. The bullet had pierced his lung, and damaged his kidney and spleen. There was a lot of reconstructive work to do. Miraculously, it hadn't touched his heart, but he had had massive internal bleeding. And no one had seen the First Lady. She was waiting for him in the recovery room, watching the surgery on closed circuit TV. And there was nothing more to say, until he got out of
surgery and they evaluated how he was doing. The doctors estimated that he would be there until midnight. And so would Maddy

There were over a hundred photographers in the lobby on couches, on chairs, sitting on their camera bags, some sprawled on the floor in corners. There were a sea of Styrofoam cups all around, bags of fast food, and a cluster of reporters stood outside, smoking. It looked like a war zone.

Maddy and the cameraman she'd been assigned had stationed themselves in a corner of the room, and they were talking quietly to a group of reporters they knew, from other networks and major newspapers.

She had done a piece for the five o'clock news, standing outside the hospital, and at seven they shot her in an area they'd been assigned inside the lobby. Elliott Noble was back at the station doing a solo, and communicating with her regularly. She did another piece for the eleven o'clock news, but there wasn't much to say, except what they'd been told. The doctors attending the President were guardedly hopeful.