The Best Laid Plans (7 page)

Leslie returned to Phoenix and talked to Lyle Bannister, the Star's managing editor. "You're going with me to Hammond, Oregon. I want you to run the newspaper there until it gets on its feet."

"I talked to Mr. McAllister," Bannister said. "The paper has no feet He said it's a disaster waiting to happen."

She studied him a moment. "Humor me."

In Oregon, Leslie called a staff meeting of the employees of the Sun "We're going to operate a little differently from now on," she informed them. "This is a two-newspaper town, and we're going to own them both." Derek Zornes, the managing editor of the Sun, said, "Excuse me, Mrs. Chambers. I'm not sure you understand the situation. Our circulation is way below the Chronick's, and we're slipping every month. There's no way we can ever catch up to it." "We're not only going to catch up to it," Leslie assured him, "we're going to put the Chronicle out of business."

The men in the room looked at one another and they all had the same thought: Females and amateurs should stay the hell out of the newspaper business.

"How do you plan to do that?" Zornes asked politely.

"Have you ever watched a bullfight?" Leslie asked.

He blinked. "A bullfight? No ..."

"Well, when the bull rushes into the ring, the matador doesn't go for the kill right away. He bleeds the bull until it's weak enough to be killed."

Zornes was trying not to laugh. "And we're going to bleed the Chronicle?"

"Exactly."

"How are we going to do that?"

"Starting Monday, we're cutting the price of the Sun from thirty-five cents to twenty cents. We're cutting our advertising rates by thirty percent. Next week, we're starting a giveaway contest where our readers can win free trips all over the world. We'll begin publicizing the contest immediately."

When the employees gathered later to discuss the meeting, the consensus was that their newspaper had been bought by a crazy woman.

The bleeding began, but it was the Sun that was being bled.

McAllister asked Leslie, "Do you have any idea how much money the Sun is losing?"

"I know exactly how much it's losing," Leslie said.

"How long do you plan to go on with this?"

"Until we win," Leslie said. "Don't worry. We will."

But Leslie was worried. The losses were getting heavier every week Circulation continued to dwindle, and advertisers' reactions to the rate reduction had been lukewarm.

"Your theory's not working," McAllister said. "We've got to cut our losses. I suppose you can keep pumping in money, but what's the point?"

The following week, the circulation stopped dropping.

It took eight weeks for the Sun to begin to rise.

The reduction in the price of the newspaper and in the cost of advertising was attractive, but what made the circulation of the Sun move up was the giveaway contest. It ran for twelve weeks, and entrants had to compete every week. The prizes were cruises to the South Seas and trips to London and Paris and Rio. As the prizes were handed out and publicized with front-page photographs of the winners, the circulation of the Sun began to explode.

"You took a hell of a gamble," Craig McAllister said grudgingly, "but it's working."

"It wasn't a gamble," Leslie said. "People can't resist getting something for nothing."

When Walt Meriwether was handed the latest circulation figures, he was furious. For the first time in years, the Sun was ahead of the Chronicle.

"All right," Meriwether said grimly. "Two can play that stupid game. I want you to cut our advertising rates and start some kind of contest."

But it was too late. Eleven months after Leslie had bought the Sun, Walt Meriwether came to see her.

"I'm selling out," he said curtly. "Do you want to buy the Chronicle?"

"Yes."

The day the contract for the Chronicle was signed, Leslie called in her staff.

"Starting Monday," she said, "we raise the price of the Sun, double our advertising rates, and stop the contest."

One month later, Leslie said to Craig McAllister, "The Evening Standard in Detroit is up for sale. It owns a television station, too. I think we should make a deal." McAllister protested. "Mrs. Chambers, we don't know anything about television, and " "Then we'll have to learn, won't we?" The empire Leslie needed was beginning to build.

Six.

Oliver's days were full, and he loved every minute of what he was doing. There were political appointments to be made, legislation to be put forward, appropriations to be approved, meetings and speeches and press interviews. The State Journal in Frankfort, the Herald-Leader in Lexington, and the Louisville Courier-Journal gave him glowing reports He was earning the reputation of being a governor who got things done Oliver was swept up in the social life of the super wealthy and he knew that a large part of that was because he was married to the daughter of Senator Todd Davis.

Oliver enjoyed living in Frankfort. It was a lovely, historic city nestled in a scenic river valley among the rolling hills of Kentucky fabled bluegrass region. He wondered what it would be like to live in Washington, D. C.

The busy days merged into weeks, and the weeks merged into months Oliver began the last year of his term.

Oliver had made Peter Tager his press secretary. He was the perfect choice. Tager was always forthright with the press, and because of the decent, old-fashioned values he stood for and liked to talk about, he gave the party substance and dignity. Peter Tager and his black eye patch became almost as well recognized as Oliver.

Todd Davis made it a point to fly down to Frankfort to see Oliver at least once a month.

He said to Peter Tager, "When you've got a Thoroughbred running, you have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't lose his timing."

On a chilly evening in October, Oliver and Senator Davis were seated in Oliver's study. The two men and Jan had gone out to dinner at Gabriel's and had returned to the Executive Mansion. Jan had left the men to talk. "Jan seems very happy, Oliver. I'm pleased." "I try to make her happy, Todd." Senator Davis looked at Oliver and wondered how often he used the apartment. "She loves you a lot, son." "And I love her." Oliver sounded very sincere.

Senator Davis smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. She's already redecorating the White House." Oliver's heart skipped a beat. "I beg your pardon?" "Oh, didn't I tell you? It's begun. Your name's becoming a byword in Washington. We're going to begin our campaign the first of the year." Oliver was almost afraid to ask the next question "Do you honestly think I have a chance, Todd?" "The word 'chance' implies a gamble, and I don't gamble, son. I won't get involved in anything unless I know it's a sure thing." Oliver took a deep breath "You can be the most important man in the world." "I want you to know how very much I appreciate everything you've done for me, Todd." Todd patted Oliver's arm. "It's a man's duty to help his son-in-law, isn't it?" The emphasis on "son-in-law" was not lost on Oliver. The senator said casually, "By the way, Oliver, I was very disappointed that your legislature passed that tobacco tax bill." "That money will take care of the shortfall in our fiscal budget, and " "But of course you're going to veto it." Oliver stared at him. "Veto it?" The senator gave him a small smile. "Oliver, I want you to know that I'm not thinking about myself. But I have a lot of friends who invested their hard-earned money in tobacco plantations, and I wouldn't want to see them get hurt by oppressive new taxes, would you?"

There was a silence.

"Would you, Oliver?"

"No," Oliver finally said. "I guess it wouldn't be fair."

"I appreciate that. I really do."

Oliver said, "I had heard that you'd sold your tobacco plantations, Todd."

Todd Davis looked at him, surprised. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Well, the tobacco companies are taking a beating in the courts. Sales are way down, and "

"You're talking about the United States, son. There's a great big world out there. Wait until our advertising campaigns start rolling in China and Africa and India." He looked at his watch and rose. "I have to head back to Washington. I have a committee meeting."

"Have a good flight."

Senator Davis smiled. "Now I will, son. Now I will."

Oliver was upset. "What the hell am I going to do, Peter? The tobacco tax is by far the most popular measure the legislature has passed this year. What excuse do I have for vetoing it?" Peter Tager took several sheets of paper from his pocket. "All the answers are right here, Oliver. I've discussed it with the senator. You won't have any problem. I've set up a press conference for four o'clock." Oliver studied the papers. Finally, he nodded. "This is good."

"It's what I do. Is there anything else you need me for?" "No. Thank you. I'll see you at four." Peter Tager started to leave. "Peter.

Tager turned. "Yes?" "Tell me something. Do you think I really have a chance of becoming president?" "What does the senator say?" "He says I do." Tager walked back to the desk. "I've known Senator Davis for many years, Oliver. In all that time, he hasn't been wrong once Not once. The man has incredible instincts. If Todd Davis says you're going to be the next President of the United States, you can bet the farm on it." There was a knock at the door. "Come in." The door opened, and an attractive young secretary walked in, carrying some faxes. She was in her early twenties, bright and eager. "Oh, excuse me, Governor. I didn't know you were in a " "That's all right, Miriam." Tager smiled. "Hi, Miriam." "Hello, Mr. Tager." Oliver said, "I don't know what I'd do without Miriam. She does everything for me." Miriam blushed. "If there's nothing else " She put the faxes on Oliver's desk and turned and hurried out of the office.

"That's a pretty woman," Tager said. He looked over at Oliver.

"Yes."

"Oliver, you are being careful, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. That's why I had you get that little apartment for me."

"I mean big-time careful. The stakes have gone up. The next time you get horny, just stop and think about whether a Miriam or Alice or Karen is worth the Oval Office."

"I know what you're saying, Peter, and I appreciate it. But you don't have to worry about me."

"Good." Tager looked at his watch. "I have to go. I'm taking Betsy and the kids out to lunch." He smiled. "Did I tell you what Rebecca did this morning? She's my five-year-old. There was a tape of a kid's show she wanted to watch at eight o'clock this morning. Betsy said, "Darling, I'll run it for you after lunch." Rebecca looked at her and said, "Mama, I want lunch now." Pretty smart, huh?"

Oliver had to smile at the pride in Tager's voice.

At ten o'clock that evening, Oliver walked into the den where Jan was reading and said, "Honey, I have to leave. I have a conference to go to." Jan looked up. "At this time of night?" He sighed. "I'm afraid so. There's a budget committee meeting in the morning, and they want to brief me before the meeting."

"You're working too hard. Try to come home early, will you, Oliver?

She hesitated a moment. "You've been out a lot lately."

He wondered whether that was intended as a warning. He walked over to her, leaned down, and kissed her. "Don't worry, honey. I'll be home as early as I can."

Downstairs Oliver said to his chauffeur, "I won't need you tonight. I'm taking the small car."

"Yes, Governor."

"You're late, darling." Miriam was naked.

He grinned and walked over to her. "Sorry about that. I'm glad you didn't start without me."

She smiled. "Hold me."

He took her in his arms and held her close, her warm body pressed against his.

"Get undressed. Hurry."

Afterward, he said, "How would you like to move to Washington, D. C.?

Miriam sat up in bed. "Are you serious?" "Very. I may be going there. I want you to be with me." "If your wife ever found out about us ..." "She won't." "Why Washington?"

"I can't tell you that now. All I can say is that it's going to be very exciting." "I'll go anywhere you want me to go, as long as you love me." "You know I love you." The words slipped out easily, as they had so many times in the past. "Make love to me again." "Just a second. I have something for you." He got up and walked over to the jacket he had flung over a chair. He took a small bottle out of his pocket and poured the contents into a glass. It was a clear liquid "Try this." "What is it?" Miriam asked. "You'll like it. I promise.

He lifted the glass and drank half of it. Miriam took a sip, then swallowed the rest of it. She smiled. "It's not bad." "It's going to make you feel real sexy." "I already feel real sexy. Come back to bed." They were making love again when she gasped and said, "I I'm not feeling well." She began to pant. "I can't breathe." Her eyes were closing. "Miriam!" There was no response. She fell back on the bed "Miriam!" She lay there, unconscious. Son of a bitch! Why are you doing this to me? He got up and began to pace. He had given the liquid to a dozen women, and only once had it harmed anyone. He had to be careful. Unless he handled this right, it was going to be the end of everything. All his dreams, everything he had worked for. He could not let that happen. He stood at the side of the bed, looking down at her He felt her pulse. She was still breathing, thank God. But he could not let her be discovered in this apartment. It would be traced back to him. He had to leave her somewhere where she would be found and be given medical help. He could trust her not to reveal his name.