The Abduction Read Online Free PDF Page B

his full attention.
    With a quick nod, Howe pointed out the window. “You see that fire escape on the side of the theater? Over there,” he indicated. “On Ponce de Leon Avenue.”
    LaBelle walked to the window and gazed down. “Yes, sir. I see it.”
    “When I was a boy, my aunt brought me and my brother right here to the Fox to see a Saturday-afternoon matinee. I thought she was sneaking us in. I couldn’t understand why we had to go in through the fire escape. But that was the only entrance for colored people. White people used that fancy entrance up the street. The one that looks like a shrine.”
    LaBelle blinked, embarrassed for his race. But he was suddenly all business. “I’m glad you didn’t mention that in last night’s debate, sir.”
    “Why?”
    He grimaced, uncomfortable. “White peoplewill do a lot of things out of guilt. We’ll smile at you. Invite you to our home. Even let you walk in the front door of the Fox Theatre. But so long as there are secret ballots in this country, guilt will never get a black man elected president.”
    “And character will?”
    “You bet it will. The media is feasting on this already. Just wait until our local organizations turn up the heat. We’ll have every preacher, priest, and rabbi talking about adultery this weekend. Talk radio and television will be flooded with phone calls. Concerned parents will barrage the local papers with letters to the editor. Teachers will be lecturing about morality in schools. The potential here is endless.”
    “What about me? What am I going to say?”
    “I’ll script something myself. I didn’t like what our speechwriters came up with. They’re a little timid, which is somewhat understandable. Lots of people have had affairs or have forgiven someone who’s cheated on them. They’re afraid we’ll sound too judgmental—like we’re condemning them, instead of Leahy.”
    “What do you think?”
    “Sir, I firmly believe you should never underestimate the hypocrisy of the American people.”
    “You’re a political genius, Buck.”
    “Just leave it to me, sir. Between now and the election, I’ll have every man and woman in America talking about marital infidelity.”
    The general turned to the window, glancing again toward the Fox marquee heralding last night’s debate. “Everyone,” he said smugly, “except Allison Leahy.”

4
    Friday was a waste. Allison had tried to talk substance. She’d even pitched her proposal for “zero tolerance” of teenage drinking and driving— any amount of alcohol in a teenage driver’s blood should be illegal, since it’s illegal for teenagers to drink in the first place. But all anyone wanted to hear about was her sleeping habits.
    Her mind really had been elsewhere since the morning limo ride, when the accusatory tone of her own campaign manager got her to thinking that perhaps her husband, too, had doubts. His uncharacteristic failure to return her phone call at lunch hadn’t exactly allayed her fears. She canceled her final Friday-evening appearance to make sure she was home in her own bed tonight, with Peter at her side.
    At 10:55 P.M . the private Carrier jet finally landed at Washington National Airport. From the terminal she rode home alone in the back of her limousine. Her usual escorts rode in front, two of the four FBI agents who had guarded the attorney general even before she’d announced her candidacy and became an even more appealing target in need of Secret Service protection.
    The trappings of Washington power and history illuminated the night sky along the expressway. The crowning Jefferson Memorial. The toweringWashington Memorial. The Capitol dome in the distance. The ride brought back memories of her first family trip to Washington, forty years ago, when she’d slugged her ten-year-old brother for telling her only boys could become president. Viewed through the cracked windshield of the family station wagon or the dark tinted windows of the attorney