yet with bribery allegations, they probably don't intend to. The President is pretty serious about no negative campaigning. My guess is he decided to save an aerospace industry scandal and sent Tench after you with a bluff in hopes he might scare you out of hiding on the sex thing. Make you stab your candidate in the back."
Gabrielle considered it. Yolanda was making sense, and yet something still felt odd. Gabrielle pointed through the glass at the bustling news room. "Yolanda, you guys are gearing up for a big presidential press conference. If the President is not going public about bribery or sex, what's it all about?"
Yolanda looked stunned. "Hold on. You think this press conference is about you and Sexton?"
"Or the bribery. Or both. Tench told me I had until eight tonight to sign a confession or else the President was going to announce-"
"Gabs, listen," Yolanda managed, between laughs, "trust me on this. I've been dealing with the White House for sixteen years, and there's no way Zach Herney has called together the global media to tell them he suspects Senator Sexton is accepting shady campaign financing or sleeping with you. That's the kind of information you leak. Presidents don't gain popularity by interrupting regularly scheduled programming to bitch and moan about sex or alleged infractions of cloudy campaign finance laws."
"Cloudy?" Gabrielle snapped. "Flat out selling your decision on a space bill for millions in ad money is hardly a cloudy issue!"
"Are you sure that's what he is doing?" Yolanda's tone hardened now. "Are you sure enough to drop your skirt on national TV? Think about it. It takes a lot of alliances to get anything done these days, and campaign finance is complex stuff. Maybe Sexton's meeting was perfectly legal."
"He's breaking the law," Gabrielle said. Isn't he?
"Or so Marjorie Tench would have you believe. Candidates accept behind-the-scenes donations all the time from big corporations. It may not be pretty, but it's not necessarily illegal. In fact, most legal issues deal not with where the money comes from but how the candidate chooses to spend it."
Gabrielle hesitated, feeling uncertain now.
"Gabs, the White House played you this afternoon. They tried to turn you against your candidate, and so far you've called their bluff. If I were looking for someone to trust, I think I'd stick with Sexton before jumping ship to someone like Marjorie Tench."
Yolanda's phone rang. She answered, nodding, uh-huh-ing, taking notes. "Interesting," she finally said. "I'll be right there. Thanks."
Yolanda hung up and turned with an arched brow. "Gabs, sounds like you're off the hook. Just as I predicted."
"What's going on?"
"I don't have a specific yet, but I can tell you this much-the president's press conference has nothing to do with sex scandals or campaign finance."
Gabrielle felt a flash of hope and wanted badly to believe her. "How do you know that?"
"Someone on the inside just leaked that the press conference is NASA-related."
Gabrielle sat up suddenly. "NASA?"
Yolanda winked. "This could be your lucky night. My bet is President Herney is feeling so much pressure from Senator Sexton that he's decided the White House has no choice but to pull the plug on the International Space Station. That explains all the global media coverage."
A press conference killing the space station? Gabrielle could not imagine.
Yolanda stood up. "That Tench attack this afternoon? It was probably just a last-ditch effort to get a foothold over Sexton before the President had to go public with the bad news. Nothing like a sex scandal to take the attention away from another presidential flop. Anyhow, Gabs, I've got work to do. My advice to you-get yourself a cup of coffee, sit right here, turn on my television, and ride this out like the rest of us. We've got twenty minutes until show time, and I'm telling you, there is no way the President is going Dumpster-diving tonight. He's got the whole world watching. Whatever he has to say carries some serious weight." She gave a reassuring wink. "Now give me the envelope."
"What?"
Yolanda held out a demanding hand. "These pictures are getting locked in my desk until this is over. I want to be sure you don't do something idiotic."
Reluctantly, Gabrielle handed over the envelope.
Yolanda locked the photos carefully in a desk drawer and pocketed the keys. "You'll thank me, Gabs. I swear it." She playfully ruffled Gabrielle's hair on her way out. "Sit tight. I