Josh checked the parking lot for the tenth time. Still no sign of Allison. It was unlike her to be late. Dorn was due at any minute. He punched her number on his speed dial and got voice mail—again. He slammed the phone shut in frustration. He was about to jump out of his skin.
He was coming off a sleepless Sunday night, his mind ping-ponging between wondering who was out to get him and all the things that would be decided in the next forty-eight hours, starting with his daughter’s leg. Much hinged on this meeting with Dorn.
Consuming two ‘Counselors’ at the Java Joynt while lingering on a mistaken hunch that he’d encounter Vince Bludhorn had stretched his nerves even tighter.
Then he’d arrived at his office to find a note pinned to the back of his office chair and his voice mail button blinking like crazy. The note was from a production supervisor: the regular ink delivery had been mysteriously cancelled. The weekly press run had left the News almost out. The voice mails were from advertisers withdrawing their ads from the River Days section—first a car dealer, then the drug store, then the bank.
Customers canceling ads was hardly an unknown phenomenon. A product might not arrive at the store on time and an ad would need to be pulled. Cash flow problems sometimes intervened, although it was usually the publisher who decided to pull the ad since, unlike a car or a television set, the ad could not be repossessed.
But only the bank vice president mentioned a reason. “We’re not going to support tabloid trash investigations.”
He was about to phone the advertisers when Dorn’s SUV wheeled into the visitor spot at the News.
Dorn killed the engine. The scent of the girl rose fleetingly from somewhere and he was swept by arousal, then shame. But that was behind him. So was his relationship with the plant. But it wouldn’t be the messy, perilous divorce that Clendenin had suggested. Instead, it would be gradual, like an office affair that cools without recriminations when novelty wears off and practicality sinks in.
The easy exit was possible because, thankfully, the News would not publish for two weeks. He hadn’t even needed to use his leverage to keep the paper from publishing whatever it was pursuing regarding the plant, although it would be ideal if Bludhorn believed his efforts had actually led to the news blackout. For that reason, he would help the editor with his daughter. It figured to be a quick meeting. He cracked the car door, popped open his umbrella and stepped into the rain.
Allison still hadn’t shown up by the time Dorn settled into a chair in Josh’s office. The congressman didn’t waste time. “How’s your little girl?”
“Scared, I imagine. I know I am. She’s home from camp this afternoon and then it’s off to the hospital tomorrow.”
“Well, let me remove one of your worries. I came by to tell you I’m going to contact your insurance company first thing when I get back to Washington. And they’ll listen. Makes a nice impression when they get a call from Capitol Hill. No one wants questions from government regulators.”
Josh shook Dorn’s hand. “This is wonderful! This means everything.” A guilty twinge tempered his elation. “I hate asking for a special favor.”
“Nonsense. Constituent service.”
Josh swallowed any unease. “On those terms, agreed.” He would never have accepted Dorn’s favor on his own behalf, but for Katie there were no lines he would not cross.
“Glad we can help. Joel Richey will get back to you on the details.” Dorn stood and extended his hand. “Sorry to run but I know you have a lot ahead of you. If there’s nothing else—” Dorn felt he had made a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.
“As a matter of fact, there is something else.”
“I only have a minute,” Dorn backpedaled.
“A couple of weeks ago, a local physician started seeing people suffering radiation injuries from body jewelry. Nipple rings, that sort of thing. We traced the jewelry to a roadside dealer and from there to a truck driver who was supplying the metal. Before we could find him, he was murdered.”
Dorn’s stomach sank. He had a bad feeling about where this was headed. He adopted an expression that he used for congressional hearings that said “attentive” but revealed no bias.
“There’s more. A few days ago someone threw a catfish through our office window. It, too, turned out to be radioactive.”
Alarms sounded in Dorn’s head. He felt immediately that the murdered truck driver was related to Bludhorn’s “problem” although nothing had been said to indicate that. “Who’s aware of this?” he asked cautiously.
“The local police. And several state agencies are aware of parts of it. But Chief Holt’s overwhelmed and the key state people are away. We put up posters to warn people about the jewelry but a lot got torn down. We have more posters but, Congressman, we need federal help. We have tens of thousands of people coming to town.”
Dorn relaxed a little. Contaminated jewelry and a murder, bad as they were, didn’t rise to the level of congressional attention, especially with the local authorities already involved. The newspaper editor hadn’t even mentioned the plant. His biggest problem might be how to satisfy the editor that he was making a difference while actually doing nothing.
“Radioactive catfish,” Dorn said. “Sounds like what happened with one of the tabloids. Had Anthrax mailed to it. Same nut sent some to members of the House.”
Josh remembered the incident well. The anthrax had killed a photographer. The newspaper building had to be abandoned for five years.
“The posters were a fine idea,” Dorn commended. “It sounds like the appropriate local authorities are aware of the killing and jewelry. I don’t know what alphabet agency this falls under but I’ll look into it as soon as I’m back in the office. Meanwhile, I think you can relax.”
“Maybe we could—”
Dorn patted Josh on the back. “You’ve done all you can. Allow the authorities to do their jobs. See to what’s important to you. Take care of your little girl. Leave the rest to me.”
Back in his car, Dorn debated whether to call Bludhorn. The situation had become unnerving. On the one hand, he really needed to know the facts to prepare himself in the event that he’d have some explaining to do. On the other hand, he might learn more than he wanted. There was a lot to be said for deniability.
Curiosity got the better of him. He called Vince and asked his questions carefully.
“This problem, was there anything dangerous involved?”
“Depends on your definition,” Bludhorn said cooly. “Crossing the street’s dangerous.” Dorn took that as confirmation.
“Did it involve a death?”
“Harry, there are going to be regrettable accidents, even fatalities, in any industrial situation.”
Dorn’s stomach sank. “Did you know about this when I was down there?”
“It was handled at that time.”
Dorn hung up. He felt ill. These plant people were crazy. Clendenin was right. He needed to break the bonds as fast as he could.