Free The Run by Stuart Woods Page A

that all?”
    “It’s the only way you’re going to pry me out of my Senate seat.”
    “Well, shoot, it might be worth it to get you out of the state of Georgia. How am I supposed to help you?”
    “I want you to manage my campaign.”
    Sam looked at Will narrowly. “You’re still drunk from New Year’s Eve, aren’t you?”
    “I’m as sober as a Supreme Court justice.”
    Sam looked around at his companions. “Are you three planning to assassinate Joe Adams? ’Cause, if so, I’m calling the Secret Service right now.”
    “I can’t tell you all the details until Friday, but around noon on Saturday, on the Capitol steps, surrounded by friends and supporters, I’m going to announce.”
    Sam stared at him, speechless.
    “Sam,” Tim said, “it’s all right; he’s not crazy. Say yes.”
    “Hell, yes,” Sam said. “You want me to resign from the House?”
    “No, keep your seat. You’re going to be based in Washington, anyway, so you can make all your votes. If you get me elected, you can come to the White House with me, and after two years, you can run formy seat against whoever the next governor of Georgia appoints to replace me.”
    Sam frowned a little. “If our Democratic colleague gets elected to that office, who do you think he might appoint to fill your term?”
    Will laughed. “Okay, Sam, if I get elected, and you want my seat right away, I’ll do everything I can to get you appointed. If he won’t do it, or if the Republican beats him, then you stick with me?”
    “Jesus,” Sam said, “I don’t think I can get a better deal than that.” He leaned over and shook Will’s hand.
    “Welcome aboard,” Will said. “Your first job is to find us a national campaign headquarters without letting on to anybody that it’s for me.” Will scribbled a name on paper and handed it to Sam. “This guy just built a new office building downtown that’s renting. I think there’s some storefront space available, and we’ll need a floor for offices, too. Feel him out.”
    “I know him a little,” Sam said. “I don’t think he’ll figure out that I’m doing it for you.”
    “Good. You’ve got to play this very closely until, say, Friday afternoon. If we can really get rolling this week, we’ll have at least a few days’ jump on the competition.”
    “Who else knows about this?” Sam asked.
    “Just the people in this room and Kate.”
    “Does Joe Adams know about it?”
    “I can’t answer that right now, Sam. You’re going to have to trust me to do the right thing.”
    “Shoot, Will, I trust you, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
    “As soon as I announce, you’re going to have to get your own office organized to run pretty much without you. I’m going to keep you real busy.”
    “Whooeee!” Sam said. “Sometimes your life just changes in the blinking of an eye!”

14
    Will and his little core of a campaign staff worked steadily at adding names to their list of campaign people. They had now added, from Will’s computer files, possible state chairmen in each of the fifty states, and they were working on county chairmen in large municipalities. They divided the names among themselves, each with a list to telephone before the announcement—Will’s made up of those people who would be insulted if not asked directly by him, Sam’s of people just below that level, and Tim or Kitty to call the rest.
    Late Tuesday afternoon, the vice president’s office announced that Mrs. Joseph Adams had undergone a lumpectomy at Walter Reed Hospital. In Wednesday morning’s Washington Post a columnist reported that Vice President Adams, the leading candidate for the Democratic nomination, was considering not running in 2000 because of his wife’s illness. The story was all over the evening network news shows, and the vicepresident’s press secretary had declined comment. Adams was said to be spending a lot of time at Walter Reed with his wife.
    On the day of the surgery, Will had dispatched two