he said animatedly. “I’ve heard that song so many times, I no longer hear the words, just the music. I’m sorry if I upset you. I feel horrible.” His words rang with concern.
Lisa dragged a finger under her eyes wiping away tears. “There’s nothing for you to feel bad about. I’m just being emotional. That’s not your fault.”
“Sure it is. It was callous of me not to realize how the song might affect you.”
“You can’t go changing your life for me, Nick. You’ve done enough all ready.”
“Nonsense,” Nick said. “I’ve done very little.” Then with soft but firm words he coaxed, “It will all work out. I promise. Somehow, someway, we’ll get it all figured out. Trust me.”
Trust him
. At the moment, she had no other choice.
C HAPTER 4
Tuesday, 1:05 P.M.
T he high-backed leather chair squeaked in protest as Gregory Moyer leaned back and placed his feet on his custom desk. He rubbed his temples as he spoke into the speakerphone. “I don’t know who your source is, Senator, but I suggest you get a new one.” His words had an edge to them.
“He has never been wrong in the past,” Sen. James Elliot said firmly. Unlike the cheap phones on the market, Moyer’s was state-of-the-art, as befitted the CEO of the country’s largest communications development firm. Senator Elliot sounded as if he were seated across the desk instead of in Washington, D.C.
“He is wrong now. I have told you that there is nothing to worry about, and there isn’t. Are you going to take your man’s word or mine?”
Elliot was slow to reply, and Moyer knew why. The senator owed Moyer a huge debt, one that was counted in millions of dollars of indirect gifts to the man’s campaign fund. Losing badly in the polls four years ago, Elliot had made a personal appeal to Moyer and the CEO had responded quickly and generously. The election was won handily, thanks to the sudden infusion of talent and money—all of it hidden, of course—from Moyer Communications. A score of smaller companies, all indirectly controlled by the strong hand of Moyer, laundered themoney. Election officials suspected nothing. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. The money trail was too well concealed, too intricate to follow.
“This isn’t about loyalties, Moyer,” Elliot said in softer tones. “I have the highest level of confidence in you. This is such an important matter, however, that errors can be made if we are not careful.”
“All diligence is being maintained,” Moyer said dryly. “Nothing is going to go wrong. I have everything under control. I always do.”
“And the girl?”
Moyer cringed. Elliot should not be mentioning that over the phone. Although his office was safe from any surveillance, he couldn’t be sure that was true for the senator. At least the man had had the good sense not to use a name. “She’s fine,” Moyer said, hoping that Elliot would catch his unspoken meaning. “I’m sure she will be back with us and doing her job just as before. I’ll tell her that you were asking about her. I’m sure she’ll be honored.”
“Um …,” Elliot began. “I’m glad to hear that. I would hate to hear that anything bad had happened. She’s vital to your good work.”
“That she is,” Moyer said. “That she is. We miss her but hope to see her again soon. In the meantime, relax. There is no problem for you to be concerned with. All goes as planned.”
“I see,” Elliot replied. Moyer could tell that he had gotten the message. “Well, keep me posted.”
“Good day, Senator,” Moyer said, reaching forward and punching the button that would hang up the phone. Lowering his feet, he turned to face the desk that formed a semicircle around him. A quick touch of the keyboard brought the computer monitor, which was capable of being lowered out of sight or raised when needed, to life. A few keystrokes more and the Moyer Communications logo—a blue planet orbiting a communications satellite—was
Lisa dragged a finger under her eyes wiping away tears. “There’s nothing for you to feel bad about. I’m just being emotional. That’s not your fault.”
“Sure it is. It was callous of me not to realize how the song might affect you.”
“You can’t go changing your life for me, Nick. You’ve done enough all ready.”
“Nonsense,” Nick said. “I’ve done very little.” Then with soft but firm words he coaxed, “It will all work out. I promise. Somehow, someway, we’ll get it all figured out. Trust me.”
Trust him
. At the moment, she had no other choice.
C HAPTER 4
Tuesday, 1:05 P.M.
T he high-backed leather chair squeaked in protest as Gregory Moyer leaned back and placed his feet on his custom desk. He rubbed his temples as he spoke into the speakerphone. “I don’t know who your source is, Senator, but I suggest you get a new one.” His words had an edge to them.
“He has never been wrong in the past,” Sen. James Elliot said firmly. Unlike the cheap phones on the market, Moyer’s was state-of-the-art, as befitted the CEO of the country’s largest communications development firm. Senator Elliot sounded as if he were seated across the desk instead of in Washington, D.C.
“He is wrong now. I have told you that there is nothing to worry about, and there isn’t. Are you going to take your man’s word or mine?”
Elliot was slow to reply, and Moyer knew why. The senator owed Moyer a huge debt, one that was counted in millions of dollars of indirect gifts to the man’s campaign fund. Losing badly in the polls four years ago, Elliot had made a personal appeal to Moyer and the CEO had responded quickly and generously. The election was won handily, thanks to the sudden infusion of talent and money—all of it hidden, of course—from Moyer Communications. A score of smaller companies, all indirectly controlled by the strong hand of Moyer, laundered themoney. Election officials suspected nothing. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. The money trail was too well concealed, too intricate to follow.
“This isn’t about loyalties, Moyer,” Elliot said in softer tones. “I have the highest level of confidence in you. This is such an important matter, however, that errors can be made if we are not careful.”
“All diligence is being maintained,” Moyer said dryly. “Nothing is going to go wrong. I have everything under control. I always do.”
“And the girl?”
Moyer cringed. Elliot should not be mentioning that over the phone. Although his office was safe from any surveillance, he couldn’t be sure that was true for the senator. At least the man had had the good sense not to use a name. “She’s fine,” Moyer said, hoping that Elliot would catch his unspoken meaning. “I’m sure she will be back with us and doing her job just as before. I’ll tell her that you were asking about her. I’m sure she’ll be honored.”
“Um …,” Elliot began. “I’m glad to hear that. I would hate to hear that anything bad had happened. She’s vital to your good work.”
“That she is,” Moyer said. “That she is. We miss her but hope to see her again soon. In the meantime, relax. There is no problem for you to be concerned with. All goes as planned.”
“I see,” Elliot replied. Moyer could tell that he had gotten the message. “Well, keep me posted.”
“Good day, Senator,” Moyer said, reaching forward and punching the button that would hang up the phone. Lowering his feet, he turned to face the desk that formed a semicircle around him. A quick touch of the keyboard brought the computer monitor, which was capable of being lowered out of sight or raised when needed, to life. A few keystrokes more and the Moyer Communications logo—a blue planet orbiting a communications satellite—was
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