Ace in the Hole Page 0,138

at Rodriguez in surprise. "We can't let a candidate speak. Hell, they'll all wanna-"

"News is, Jackson's going to drop out." Rodriguez smiled and tapped his nose. "I smell something, jack. Betcha Jackson's cut a deal with the boss. Betcha he's gonna be veep." Jack's mind worked through the idea. He hadn't been in charge of his own delegation since he'd gone off the balcony on Thursday: it was Rodriguez who had been riding herd on California and voting jack's proxy for Hartmann. He had to respect Rodriguez's instincts here.

As for the Hartmann/Jackson ticket: why not? It was the same deal that Roosevelt and Garner had cut in '32, during the last stalled Democratic convention.

"Our totals and Jesse's," he said. "Are they-?"

"Not enough. Jesse's people are working on Dukakis now. "

"Barnett will have to smell something." Or Fleur, he thought. Fleur had the sharper nose.

Maybe, jack thought, it was Fleur who was the secret ace, not Barnett. He wondered if Fleur had been in the military. "After this morning," Rodriguez being tactful, " there's no approaching them. Someone talked to Fleur whatsername: she says No. Doesn't even want to talk about it."

Jack rose to his feet, scowling toward the massive battleship-prow of the podium as Jim Wright called the convention to order and announced there would be another ballot. The damned vote would take forever: the managers had totally lost control of the delegates and each delegation would have to be polled man-by-man. The move to suspend the convention rules would come after the vote total was announced. And then that would have to be voted on-God, how long could this go on?

"Fuck! Fuck!" Rodriguez was shouting into his cellular phone. He slammed the thing into its cradle, then looked at jack. "Dukakis will go along with it. He hasn't got anything to lose, and maybe he can pick up some of Jackson's delegates. But we cant change the rules without Barnett. We need a three-quarters vote."

"This sucks, ese."

"Barnett 's going over the top if this Jackson stunt doesn't work." Rodriguez took a breath. "Okay. Here's what Devaughn wants. We're gonna start spreading the rumor that Jackson is dropping out, that all he wants to do is address the convention and make a plea on behalf of his constituency. Nobody's calling the shots with his individual delegates anymore. Maybe Barnett's troops won't pay attention when he tells them to vote no."

"Maybe."

Rodriguez shrugged. "The whole scheme's a maybe." Jack felt his hands balling by his sides. There had to be some way to repair things, some way to repair the damage that the assassin aces had done-hell, that Jack had done.

He remembered longshoremen dancing on a countertop. David Harstein, he thought wildly. Get Harstein on the platform. Use him to influence the entire convention to nominate Hartmann by acclamation.

No. Stupid. Everyone would notice. People watching on TV would wonder how come they weren't as enthusiastic as the people at the convention. And the air-conditioning might blow Harstein's pheromones away.

Harstein's power was subtle; it had to be used subtly. He could only influence a few people at a time.

Maybe, Jack thought, a few important people. Maybe Barnett's campaign manager.

Jack thought of Fleur dancing on tabletops, flinging her underwear into the Omni atrium, calling Leo Barnett on the phone to tell him how good Tachyon was in bed ... Jack gloried in this picture for a moment before the whole thing fell apart.

David Harstein hated his guts. Who was he to make plans for the man?

The hell with that. Harstein wanted Hartmann elected, right? If nothing else, Jack could resort to blackmail. He knew Harstein was a secret ace. He could threaten to reveal it.

He thought of himself weeping in the tunnel and his stomach turned over.

Jim Wright read Alabama's delegate total. All for Barnett. That decided it. Jack was moving, walking from California to New York across the massive front of the podium. Harstein was seated in the bleachers watching his daughter address the New York delegation. His look was both sad and proud. Jack slapped Harstein on the shoulder and pinned him to his seat.

The actor's eyes were veiled, cautious, watching. " I thought we had reached an understanding. You leave me alone. I leave you alone."

Jack spoke quickly. "Listen, it's important. In a few minutes there's going to be a motion to suspend the rules of the convention in order to let Jackson speak. He's going to withdraw and give his support to our man."

"Good for Gregg Hartmann." Scowling. "What's that