Capital Offense

“Thank you, Mr. Dunfey, for that question.” Warner responded. “As you all know, everything I do is always in the best interest of both the State of Missouri and her people. The new airport is a critical step toward making our state stronger economically by encouraging industry and tourism. We need to keep up with the times in order to compete in today’s marketplace. The construction alone will bring twenty thousand new jobs to the area. I believe-”

“Could you tell us how having a mistress fits into your idea of personal responsibility and family values?” Dunfey interrupted.

Warner’s smooth smile cloaked his shock and anger.

Carolyn walked over and took her husband’s hand.

Thank God for Carolyn; she knows exactly how to react. Warner dared a look in her direction.

With flushed cheeks she smiled up at him. but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

He hesitated then turned his attention back to the crowd. “Mr. Dunfey. I’m happy to answer your political questions, but when you insult my wife and me, I draw the line.”

SIX

Jack Rudly leaned against a fence pole to the side of the backstage area and watched two police officers escort Patrick Dunfey from the amphitheater. The sounds of camera shutters clicking told him what the lead story would be in the next clay’s paper. He turned to the stage as his father, William Rudly, the senior senator from Missouri, began his address.

His dad captured the crowd’s attention with his usual enthusiasm and wit, and Jack smiled. Back in the states from a stint in Kuwait during Iraq ’s invasion, his schedule allowed for only a three-day visit home before heading to Iraq to interview Saddam Hussein.

With time so short, his father had asked him to attend the fair. Bill Rudly claimed he needed an honest opinion on how his speech would be received by the press and insisted that only Jack could give an accurate assessment. Jack knew, of course, that his dad just wanted to spend as much time as possible with his son. and would have said anything to assure his company.

The crowd applauded. The older Rudly’s blue eyes radiated an intensity and alertness that allowed him to size up situations and people with an uncanny accuracy. Even as mischievous young men. Jack and his friends never got away with a lie where Bill Rudly was concerned.

Jack had inherited his father’s blue eyes and intuition, but his youthful indiscretions were his alone. He rubbed the small scar over his left eye, a reminder of a barroom brawl in Turkey. As an investigative journalist, he often found himself delving into the seamy side of life, and the ability to defend himself had become a necessity. So, at six-foot-two-inches and one-hundred-eighty pounds, he worked out regularly. Regardless of the physical challenges he posed for his body, however, sleep was an illusive commodity. Nothing seemed to curb his overactive mind.

He swore that insomnia had forced him to become a journalist. While the rest of the world slept, he was wide-awake, keeping watch. Bill Rudly, however, didn’t agree with the practicality of this notion and disapproved of Jack’s career. This was the first in a long list of topics on which they disagreed.

As the son of a foreign diplomat-turned-senator, Jack had grown up all over the world and spoke five languages, making him not only a valuable man in the field of foreign journalism, but also a person much sought-after by government intelligence agencies. For a man of Jack’s talent and contacts, these careers were easily integrated.

Jack didn’t mind the special assignments, even though it meant that some of his stories never went any farther than Langley, but when it came to certain sectors of the world, his father objected. Iraq was one of these sectors. Jack reminded Bill that even if he wasn’t on the government payroll he’d still travel to places like Iraq to cover the news as a journalist, but his father detested the added risk to his son.

Jack had spent six years in the Middle East. He not only spoke Arabic, but could assimilate into the culture. And his established contacts made his visits invaluable to the intelligence community.

Bill Rudly pleaded with his son to reconsider this assignment. He knew that the U.S. would never tolerate Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait, that war was imminent. His pleading had turned to anger when Jack ignored him.

Jack lit a cigarette. At thirty-five, it amazed him that his father still tried to tell him what to do. Yet, here he was looking for advice. Advice. Jack thought, the real reason for his visit. He’d been offered a position in the States with the Today news magazine. He didn’t mind giving up the extra assignments for the CIA, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to leave Associated Press. And although he knew his father would want him to take the safe option, he still needed a sounding board.