Free Lovers and Liars Trilogy by Sally Beauman

run.”
    “Reasons?” Jenkins said.
    “It was never explained. That’s what’s so curious. Why resign from the Senate? He had powerful backers in the Democratic party—why disappoint them? Count the column inches on that. And the answer? No one knows. There was no scandal, no hint of skeletons in the closet, no smoking bimbos, no bribes, no unfortunate connections with organized crime. Nothing. Just, one day he was there—the next he was gone.”
    “There were reasons given,” Pascal interrupted. “He put out a statement. One of the children, the younger son, had been seriously ill.”
    “Oh, sure. And Hawthorne wanted to spend more time with his family as a result. Don’t tell me you swallowed that.”
    “Possibly not.”
    “If you did, Pascal, you’re in a minority of one.”
    “Children, children, please. Do I detect a note of hostility here?” Jenkins, whose guiding principle was divide and rule, made a calming gesture. “Let’s stick to the point,” he said. “Fast-forward—we haven’t got all day. Hawthorne resigns from the Senate, as you say. He stays well clear of the subsequent presidential election. One month after the inauguration, what do we find? John Hawthorne kissing hands with the Queen. His Excellency the ambassador. A very unexpected appointment, Gini, don’t you agree? Run that one past me. Explain that as a career move.”
    Gini shrugged. “I can understand why the Clinton administration might offer him the job—I can see them in the Oval Office saying how do we get rid of Hawthorne, how do you bury America’s crown prince? I can see that. But for Hawthorne to accept the posting to London? All his life this man’s been like a heat-seeking missile, straight on target to the White House—”
    “And then he veers off,” Jenkins cut in. “Of course, one could say that being ambassador to Britain is a prestigious post. Other people even saw it as an effective launchpad to the presidency—Joseph Kennedy, for one.”
    “Maybe so. But that was over fifty years ago. Times change. Now ambassadorships go to yesterday’s men, or women. As a reward for services rendered. In American terms right now, Hawthorne’s invisible. Ambassadors don’t make headlines. All this posting does for him is delay any political comeback. It cuts him off from the power center. I’d say he has to have accepted that. He knows it’s over. Maybe he wants it to be over. Politically, Hawthorne’s all washed up.”
    There was a pause. Jenkins savored the moment, then seemed to decide he had held out long enough. He leaned forward, wafting cigar smoke at them both.
    “Suppose I told you that Hawthorne wasn’t washed up? Suppose I told you that Hawthorne was having second thoughts, that he now wished he’d never abandoned that golden career?”
    “I’d say he’s left it too late.”
    “Are you sure?” Jenkins smiled. “After all, make the calculations: Let’s suppose Clinton enjoys office for two full terms. That takes us to the year 2000. By which time John Hawthorne will be in his mid-fifties. He’s a man, in any case, who looks a good ten years younger than his age. Would you rule him out of the presidential running then—a man of his looks and abilities, a man with his connections? If you would, I’m not sure I’d agree.”
    “Okay,” Gini said. “I agree. Up to a point. It’s feasible Hawthorne could make a comeback further down the road. But not without reestablishing his American base. Not if he remains here too long. If he does that, he’s dead in the water.” She paused. Jenkins was watching her, smiling. Gini, who knew his techniques, realized that she had been given, and missed, a clue.
    “ Connections ,” she said, leaning forward. “Oh, I see, Nicholas. You mean it might not be just a question of Hawthorne’s own ambitions? You mean there are other people promoting Hawthorne’s political future as well?”
    “Well, my dear Gini, I’d say so, wouldn’t you? His father,