Tuesday would be ugly. Connolly harrumphed and shook his head. The damn Florida Keys, that meeting ruined everything. It brought the Bishop into play, into power to really make a play and Connolly couldn’t get away from him. Connolly knew the electoral map, knew what the polling data showed and knew something different would be required to win. The Bishop was only too willing to provide the something different. He had too much to lose with a Thomson presidency. He was as motivated, if not more so, to get the vice president to the White House. Of course, now, Connolly was the one paying the price for the Bishop’s actions.
Connolly sat in the dark, sipped his bourbon and contemplated what his future would hold. Politically, he would be a dead man, at least for a while, probably for a good long while, but if there was ever a second act in anything, it was in politics.
It reminded him of Nixon.
Richard Nixon became relevant in his later years, a man people sought counsel from and who became a wise sage despite his disgraceful exit, the only man ever to resign the presidency. He was disgraced when he left office. Yet the man found a way back to prominence, largely because he knew China and the Soviet Union so well. He wrote books, gave lectures and even occasionally sat for interviews. But he came back. When he died he’d regained a certain level of respect.
Richard Nixon became his immediate political model.
Connolly had political wisdom to share. Nobody understood the electorate, down to state, county or city, nobody knew it all better than him. He would have to get through this patch of trouble and lay low and out of sight. He had plenty of money and didn’t really need to work except for the fact that politics was all he really had. No wife, no children, no real hobbies. He lived and breathed politics and winning races.
He was watching Chris Mathews rail on MSNBC. The last thing anyone in Connolly’s position would seemingly want to do is watch politics. Yet he couldn’t turn the television off. He would have to find his way back in and in time he would. He’d never get to run a campaign again, but he could perform consulting work, sit in the background and for a price offer advice. Nobody knew the electoral map like he did. In time, he could even put together a Super PAC like Rove did. No matter your sins in politics, if you were good, people would seek you out, and despite his mistakes, Connolly was good.
As for the Bishop, he needed to reach out to the man. Connolly held his mud tonight. His only slight slip was when McRyan came in. He’d looked up the St. Paul detective the other day and he had a colorful and interesting background. When he came into the room he didn’t find McRyan as physically imposing as he imagined he would. The man was fairly tall, six foot one, but he was more wiry than bulky. It was his eyes that were intimidating. Those cold icy blue eyes told Connolly that McRyan was a threat. They showed determination, will and they were piercing, as if he looked right into his soul. There was no doubt he would keep investigating this case. He had the scent of the Bishop now and if his history was any indication, he would not stop until he found out who the Bishop was.
Connolly took a sip of the bourbon and closed his eyes.
Should he try to play the Bishop or McRyan?
If he went to McRyan, he could try to leverage the information to avoid a jail term. Problem was, that would not prevent the Bishop from calling off his men. If anything, that could make the Bishop all the more determined to fulfill McRyan’s prediction.
If he went to the Bishop and convinced him that he wouldn’t crack, that he wouldn’t break and that he would never give him up, he could ride out the storm.
He took another sip of his drink and contemplated his options, running the scenarios through his mind.
Ultimately, in his mind, going to the Bishop seemed like the better play. There was still some time. He wasn’t dead yet and he had a few cards left to play. There was still time, he told himself, still some time to survive this.
* * *
“You said what to Connolly?” Wire asked in disbelief, laughing.