Free Cut and Thrust by Stuart Woods Page A

lunchtime.”
    Collins poured the orange juice, and a waiter came and delivered eggs Benedict. “So, Marty, how do you think the convention is going for you?”
    “As well as can be expected,” Stanton replied.
    “Do you think you have enough votes to win on the first ballot?”
    Stanton hesitated before replying. “I believe that may depend on you, Dick.”
    Collins took a bite of his eggs and shrugged. “I think our delegation is holding. At least, nobody has told me he’s doing otherwise.”
    “I hear rumors that there’s some crumbling in Pete Otero’s delegation.”
    “You mean, some of his delegates are switching to you?”
    “I mean, I hear they’re switching—I can’t be sure to whom.”
    “I hear there may be half a dozen,” Collins said.
    “Do you hear where they’re going?”
    “I can only guess.”
    “All right then, guess.”
    “I think more likely to Kate than to you.”
    “That won’t hurt me on the first ballot,” Stanton said.
    “No, that won’t, not until the second ballot.”
    “Then we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”
    The governor chewed thoughtfully. “How did your sit-down with Kate go last evening?”
    Stanton flinched visibly. “How could you know about that?”
    “I try to stay on top of things. What did you two have to say to each other?”
    “She offered me State if I’d drop out and nominate her.”
    “If you don’t get the nomination, Marty, which would you prefer, State or the Senate?” Collins already knew the answer. State was too much work, too much globe-hopping for Stanton, who had always been a little lazy.
    “I guess that’s my choice, isn’t it? If I don’t win the nomination.”
    “What did you say to Kate?”
    “After I turned it down, I offered her State.”
    “And?”
    “She wouldn’t commit—said she’d let me know by noon.”
    “Marty, it’s time for you and I to be entirely honest with each other. Realistic, too.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “Kate isn’t going to take State.”
    “I’ve got until noon before we know.”
    “It’s not going to happen. Put it out of your mind.”
    “I don’t see how you can know that, Dick.”
    “You’ll know at noon, but by then you will have wasted four hours.”
    “Wasted how?”
    “You have no time to waste, Marty. Right now, you can accept my offer of an appointment to the Senate. That offer will expire when we rise from this table. Then, when Kate calls you at noon—or, more likely, doesn’t call at all—you will be out of options.”
    “But you said—”
    “No, I didn’t,” Collins said. “I didn’t say my offer was open-ended. And Kate didn’t offer you State.”
    Stanton’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t see how you can say that, Dick, you weren’t there.”
    “I didn’t need to be.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I know you, Marty, and I know Kate. The fact is, your personal conduct has made it impossible for you to be nominated.”
    “I know it hasn’t helped,” Stanton admitted.
    “In the Senate, Marty, no one will care who you take to bed, you’ll be a bachelor again. You’re rich enough to buy a nice house in Georgetown—the women will be all over you. Think about it.”
    “I’ll have no seniority in the Senate.”
    “Your stature in the party will get you good committee assignments, and the press will always want to know what you have to say, especially the TV reporters. You’ll be a regular on the Sunday-morning shows.”
    “Do you know something I don’t, Dick? About who’s slipping in the delegation?”
    “Nobody has told me anything, I just know what I know. It’s time for you to decide what you want to do with the rest of your life. You can spend it doing good work in the Senate, or you can spend it serving on corporate boards and playing golf.”
    “Come on, Dick, I’ve done a lot for you. You wouldn’t be governor—”
    “And I’m very grateful to you, Marty, that’s why I’ve offered you the Senate seat. Most politicians