saying about Sexton's campaign finance and the SFF?"
"I told you I was wrong and-"
"I just found out two of our reporters who cover the aerospace industry have been working on a similar story."
Gabrielle was surprised. "Meaning?"
"I don't know. But these guys are good, and they seem pretty convinced that Sexton is taking kickbacks from the Space Frontier Foundation. I just figured I should call you. I know I told you earlier that the idea was insane. Marjorie Tench as a source seemed spotty, but these guys of ours... I don't know, you might want to talk to them before you see the senator."
"If they're so convinced, why haven't they gone to press?" Gabrielle sounded more defensive than she wanted to.
"They have no solid evidence. The senator apparently is good at covering his tracks."
Most politicians are. "There's nothing there, Yolanda. I told you the senator admitted taking SFF donations, but the gifts are all under the cap."
"I know that's what he told you, Gabs, and I'm not claiming to know what's true or false here. I just felt obliged to call because I told you not to trust Marjorie Tench, and now I find out people other than Tench think the senator may be on the dole. That's all."
"Who were these reporters?" Gabrielle felt an unexpected anger simmering now.
"No names. I can set up a meeting. They're smart. They understand campaign finance law... " Yolanda hesitated. "You know, these guy actually believe Sexton is hurting for cash-bankrupt even."
In the silence of her office, Gabrielle could hear Tench's raspy accusations echoing. After Katherine died, the senator squandered the vast majority of her legacy on bad investments, personal comforts, and buying himself what appears to be certain victory in the primaries. As of six months ago, your candidate was broke.
"Our men would love to talk to you," Yolanda said.
I bet they would, Gabrielle thought. "I'll call you back."
"You sound pissed."
"Never at you, Yolanda. Never at you. Thanks."
Gabrielle hung up.
Dozing on a chair in the hallway outside Senator Sexton's Westbrooke apartment, a security guard awoke with a start at the sound of his cellular phone. Bolting up in his chair, he rubbed his eyes and pulled his phone from his blazer pocket.
"Yeah?"
"Owen, this is Gabrielle."
Sexton's guard recognized her voice. "Oh, hi."
"I need to talk to the senator. Would you knock on his door for me? His line is busy."
"It's kind of late."
"He's awake. I'm sure of it." Gabrielle sounded anxious. "It's an emergency."
"Another one?"
"Same one. Just get him on the phone, Owen. There's something I really need to ask him."
The guard sighed, standing up. "Okay, okay. I'll knock." He stretched and made his way toward Sexton's door. "But I'm only doing it because he was glad I let you in earlier." Reluctantly, he raised his fist to knock.
"What did you just say?" Gabrielle demanded.
The guard's fist stopped in midair. "I said the senator was glad I let you in earlier. You were right. It was no problem at all."
"You and the senator talked about that?" Gabrielle sounded surprised.
"Yeah. So what?"
"No, I just didn't think... "
"Actually, it was kind of weird. The senator needed a couple of seconds to even remember you'd been in there. I think the boys were tossing back a few."
"When did you two talk, Owen?"
"Right after you left. Is something wrong?"
A momentary silence. "No... no. Nothing. Look, now that I think of it, let's not bother the senator this instant. I'll keep trying his house line, and if I don't have any luck, I'll call you back and you can knock."
The guard rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Ms. Ashe."
"Thanks, Owen. Sorry to bother you."
"No problem." The guard hung up, flopped back in his chair, and went to sleep.
Alone in her office, Gabrielle stood motionless for several seconds before hanging up the phone. Sexton knows I was inside his apartment... and he never mentioned it to me?
Tonight's ethereal strangeness was getting murkier. Gabrielle flashed on the senator's phone call to her while she was at ABC. The senator had stunned her with his unprovoked admission that he was meeting with space companies and accepting money. His honesty had brought her back to him. Shamed her even. His confession now seemed one hell of a lot less noble.
Soft money, Sexton had said. Perfectly legal.
Suddenly, all the vague misgivings Gabrielle had ever felt about Senator Sexton seemed to resurface all at once.
Outside, the taxi was honking.
103
The bridge of the Goya was a Plexiglas cube situated two levels above the main deck. From here