he'd concentrate on finding a way to get at Hartmann. Right now, he didn't have the first idea how he'd go about it, but the senator wasn't leaving Atlanta alive. Of course, Spector might not either. He didn't bother trying to tell himself that there were some things worse than death. He knew better.
If he could find someone to help him, someone powerful, he might actually walk away in one piece. And he knew one person who might be inclined to help. It was a big risk, but what the fuck.
He turned off the TV, curled up into a ball around the almost empty bottle, and tried to get to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sunday July 24, 1988
7:00 A.M.
With one cheap towel wrapped around her dripping body from breasts to thighs and another wound around her hair, Sara emerged from the bathroom in a breath of steam. Motion was effort; she had rigor mortis to the depths of her soul.
"We can't rely on Tachyon anymore." She forced her words out like lumps of plasticine through a window screen. They weren't a question.
The man who called himself George Steele sat on the bed in trousers and undershirt, looking down at the backs of his hands. They were hairy, like his shoulders. He raised his head. "We cannot."
"You know the plan we discussed earlier?" His eyes narrowed. "Yes."
"I'll do it." She turned and went back into the bathroom to dry her hair.
9:00 A.M.
Hospitals were tasty and Puppetman was getting hungry. Gregg leaned away from the Compaq Portable III and rubbed his eyes. He typed a quick message: Tony, I'm taking a break. The speech looks good, and I'm sending my last edit.
I'll leave the computer on and pick up the draft when I get back. Thanks.
He sent the file via modem to Calderone's portable and rubbed his eyes.
"Tired, love?" Ellen smiled at him from her hospital bed, half-asleep herself "I think the next president of the United States ought to get some sleep. You had a long night last night, and Jack tells me you and Jesse stayed up till all hours planning the campaign."
"It was a glorious night, Ellen. Jesse's speech was a wonder. I'm sorry you weren't there. None of it was possible without you."
She smiled at that, tinged with sadness. She was still pale, her skin almost translucent, and her eyes were puffy and dark. The death of their child had marked her more permanently than he had thought possible. "I'm coming to hear your speech tonight. Nothing could stop me. Kiss me, next president of the United States."
"Picked up on that phrase, have we?"
"After last night's roll call? `The great state of New York casts all its votes for the next president of the United States: Gregg Hartmann!' How many states are there?" She held her arms out.
Gregg leaned over the bed and kissed her softly on the lips. Puppetman nudged at him. Give her to me.
No. Leave her alone. We've put her through enough. Getting sentimental, are we? The power mocked him, but didn't seem inclined to argue. Then let's go elsewhere. I'm hungry.
Gregg hugged Ellen. "Listen," he said. "I'm going to take a short walk. Thought I might see some of the patients, shake a few hands."
"Campaigning already," Ellen gave a mock sigh. "Mr. Next-President-of-the-United-States."
"Get used to it, love."
"You'll get tired of handshaking before it's all over, Gregg."
He gave her a strange grin. "I doubt it," he said. Inside, Puppetman echoed him.
11:00 A.M.
Spector woke up groggy. There was a metallic taste in his mouth and he hurt all over. All his stuff was at the motel, so he couldn't shave or brush his teeth. He'd have to stop by there and clean up before making his visit. He sat on the corner of the bed and rubbed the grit from his eyes.
He picked up the phone book and thumbed through until he came to hospitals. He found the one Tony was in, hesitated for a moment, then punched in the numbers.
"Tony Calderone, please," he said to the switchboard operator. It rang several times before being answered. "Calderone. "
"Uh, yeah. This is Jim. I wanted to explain about the other day."
"Right. Colin said you were up in my room. Hope you didn't get mugged again." Tony sounded glad to hear from him.
" Nothing like that. Got sidetracked with business is all." Spector wanted to tell him everything, but knew Tony wouldn't believe it. He was too committed. "I just wanted you to know I was all right."