Free F Paul Wilson - Novel 04 by Deep as the Marrow (v2.1)

one. Paulie glanced
in the rearview mirror. The kid had the box of chocolates on her lap and was
digging in.
    Keep eating, he thought.
    “You want some candy, mister?
They’re real good.”
    “No thanks. I’m on a
diet.”
    He glanced back again. Cute little
thing. Happy with the chocolates and so trusting. Complete faith in him…
because he said her daddy had sent him.
    Jesus, he felt like a rat.
     
15
     
    Before leaving the White House,
John Vanduyne stopped by the press office and found Terri Londergan in her
cubicle. Her desk was littered with yellow sheets, all scribbled up this way
and that. She had a phone receiver crammed between her shoulder and her ear and
was taking furious notes on a fresh yellow sheet.
    She looked up and smiled at him,
rolling her dark, dark eyes as she pointed to the phone.
    “Yes, he will,” she
said into the receiver. “Yes, I’m sure he will…” John
watched her as she did her deputy press secretary thing, fielding questions
from some far away newspaper or magazine editor. He loved the way her blunt-cut
raven hair fell across her face when she tilted her head and how she’d
toss her head to flip it out of the way. Her sharp nose and strong jaw were
softened by her full-lipped smile. Oh, that smile. It had drawn John the length
of the executive offices when he’d spotted her talking to Stephanie
Harris last year. And he’d stood there like a dummy until Stephanie had
introduced him.
    A few minutes of conversation with
Terri and he’d been completely taken by her. After that he’d made a
point of running into her on his regular White House visits, but it
wasn’t until a few months ago that he’d mustered the nerve to ask
her out. They’d been dating ever since.
    Terri was in her
mid-thirties—about ten years younger than John—but had the poise
and self-assurance of someone older. She and Katie had met and spent a few
evenings together—in the neutral territory of restaurants—and
seemed to get along fine. Katie was always asking when they were going to see
Terri again. John was ready to admit to the possibility that he might find
someone else, that there might be life and even love after Mamie.
    “… of course,”
she was saying. “He’ll answer all those questions at the press
conference. That’s right. Right. Have a nice day. Goodbye.” She
hung up and then cradled her head facedown in her arms on her desk. She spoke
into the chaos of papers under her nose.
    “No more calls! Please, no
more calls!” John placed his black bag on her desk, moved behind her, and
began massaging her tight shoulder muscles, working a thumb along each
trapezius. She groaned and the sound excited him.
    “Ooooh, that feels good. You
do, know what a girl needs.”
    “Rough morning?”
    “The roughest. Ever. Times
ten. I—there… oh, yes right there. I was in a hundred percent
agreement when I listened to him last night.”
    “You were?” That
surprised him. He knew she didn’t use any drugs, and with her strict
Irish Catholic upbringing he’d assumed she would oppose legalizing them.
But then, she’d already proved herself to be remarkably liberated
regarding sex, so why not the same attitude toward drugs?
    “Yeah, I were. But now
I’m not so sure.”
    “Why the change?”
    “The phones! The calls from Europe were already backed up when I walked in at six this morning. They’ve been
going wild ever since. Anyone with a newsletter, a local radio show, a fanzine,
an online chat nook, everybody in the western world wants more
information.” She lifted her head. “And oh God the West Coast is
just waking up. I’m going crazy!”
    He laughed. “Now
there’s a good reason to change your principles.”
    “I have my principles,”
she said, turning and smiling up at him. “But you learn quickly in this
town that you’ve got to be practical too.”
    “In other words, if this is
going to cause you extra work, drugs should stay criminalized.”
    “You got it. Doc,”