carried out by his people. Hughes won’t know what hit him.”
Smiling, Will Hawkins leaned back in his chair, clearly proud of his elaborate plan. John Rollins was silent for several moments, obviously pondering the monumental risk to what had just been laid out before him.
When he finally spoke, it was three simple words: “Let’s do it.”
At the same moment, in
The Dallas Free Press
headquarters on the other side of downtown, Greg Larson and Tom Johnson were meeting in Johnson’s office.
“I’m telling you, Tom,” Larson complained, “this series is going nowhere. I can’t find a thing on Will Hawkins. No affairs, no tax problems. They even pay Social Security tax on their maids and yard people. This guy’s obviously known for a long time that he was going to run for president. I really believed that the legendary ruthlessness and drive of the Hawkins family would turn up some scandal to liven up this campaign.”
“Maybe it’s just legend,” Tom Johnson responded.
“I don’t buy it, Tom. I’ve always believed there was something fishy about the Hawkins family, and I should be the investigative reporter to uncover it.”
“Well, regardless of whether you uncover any dirt on Will Hawkins or not, this campaign is big news in Dallas, and I’d like you to continue. Not to mention that you all but guaranteed Chambers a newsworthy breakthrough.” Johnson shrugged and broke into a big grin.
“I’ll continue, but I need help, Tom.”
“Name it.”
“I want a full-time researcher assigned to me. I want to uncover the shady dealings that I’m convinced exist within the confines of the Hawkins family compound.”
Johnson, relieved by the simple nature of the request, quickly agreed. He was ecstatic to be keeping his best reporter on the biggest story in Dallas since 1963.
fifteen
W ill Hawkins’s campaign numbers were slowly climbing, but at a rate that had the pollsters predicting Hawkins could not overtake President Hughes and win the general election. Jack McCarthy was concerned, and he channeled that concern into what he knew best: identifying a strategic insight that would make a product more appealing to consumers. As Jack flew on the Hawkins’s private jet from market to market, he conducted a grueling series of quantitative research studies, focus groups, and one-on-one interviews. His findings were not identifying anything new or insightful. But they had confirmed that the American public, while supportive of President Hughes, believed that the current administration was neglecting the environment and the war on drugs.
When Jack arrived at Dallas Love Field in the Hawkins Gulfstream V, he’d only slept four of the past forty-eight hours. But rather than go home for a nap, he called Will Hawkins’s administrative assistant, Stephanie Wood, to request the earliest possible opening on Hawkins’s extremely busy calendar. After a few moments of delay, Stephanie returned to the line. “Jack, Mr. Hawkins says he can see you in ninety minutes. The limo should be there in a few minutes, so I guess you’llhave some time to kill. I could meet you at Capitol Grill for a quick lunch if you’re interested.”
Jack was starving but thought better of being seen at the trendy Dallas eatery with Will Hawkins’s very attractive assistant. The press, not to mention Carrie’s nosey friends, would have a field day if the two of them were spotted together. This also wasn’t the first time Stephanie had shown interest in Jack. It would be prudent not to encourage her.
“It sounds great, Stephanie, but if I’m going to be meeting with the future president of the United States, a shower is probably the smart plan.”
They both laughed, and Jack signed off by saying he’d see her around 1:15.
When Jack entered Will Hawkins’s plush office, the candidate was talking in hushed tones on one of his three desktop telephones. He casually motioned for Jack to sit on one of the couches on the opposite
Smiling, Will Hawkins leaned back in his chair, clearly proud of his elaborate plan. John Rollins was silent for several moments, obviously pondering the monumental risk to what had just been laid out before him.
When he finally spoke, it was three simple words: “Let’s do it.”
At the same moment, in
The Dallas Free Press
headquarters on the other side of downtown, Greg Larson and Tom Johnson were meeting in Johnson’s office.
“I’m telling you, Tom,” Larson complained, “this series is going nowhere. I can’t find a thing on Will Hawkins. No affairs, no tax problems. They even pay Social Security tax on their maids and yard people. This guy’s obviously known for a long time that he was going to run for president. I really believed that the legendary ruthlessness and drive of the Hawkins family would turn up some scandal to liven up this campaign.”
“Maybe it’s just legend,” Tom Johnson responded.
“I don’t buy it, Tom. I’ve always believed there was something fishy about the Hawkins family, and I should be the investigative reporter to uncover it.”
“Well, regardless of whether you uncover any dirt on Will Hawkins or not, this campaign is big news in Dallas, and I’d like you to continue. Not to mention that you all but guaranteed Chambers a newsworthy breakthrough.” Johnson shrugged and broke into a big grin.
“I’ll continue, but I need help, Tom.”
“Name it.”
“I want a full-time researcher assigned to me. I want to uncover the shady dealings that I’m convinced exist within the confines of the Hawkins family compound.”
Johnson, relieved by the simple nature of the request, quickly agreed. He was ecstatic to be keeping his best reporter on the biggest story in Dallas since 1963.
fifteen
W ill Hawkins’s campaign numbers were slowly climbing, but at a rate that had the pollsters predicting Hawkins could not overtake President Hughes and win the general election. Jack McCarthy was concerned, and he channeled that concern into what he knew best: identifying a strategic insight that would make a product more appealing to consumers. As Jack flew on the Hawkins’s private jet from market to market, he conducted a grueling series of quantitative research studies, focus groups, and one-on-one interviews. His findings were not identifying anything new or insightful. But they had confirmed that the American public, while supportive of President Hughes, believed that the current administration was neglecting the environment and the war on drugs.
When Jack arrived at Dallas Love Field in the Hawkins Gulfstream V, he’d only slept four of the past forty-eight hours. But rather than go home for a nap, he called Will Hawkins’s administrative assistant, Stephanie Wood, to request the earliest possible opening on Hawkins’s extremely busy calendar. After a few moments of delay, Stephanie returned to the line. “Jack, Mr. Hawkins says he can see you in ninety minutes. The limo should be there in a few minutes, so I guess you’llhave some time to kill. I could meet you at Capitol Grill for a quick lunch if you’re interested.”
Jack was starving but thought better of being seen at the trendy Dallas eatery with Will Hawkins’s very attractive assistant. The press, not to mention Carrie’s nosey friends, would have a field day if the two of them were spotted together. This also wasn’t the first time Stephanie had shown interest in Jack. It would be prudent not to encourage her.
“It sounds great, Stephanie, but if I’m going to be meeting with the future president of the United States, a shower is probably the smart plan.”
They both laughed, and Jack signed off by saying he’d see her around 1:15.
When Jack entered Will Hawkins’s plush office, the candidate was talking in hushed tones on one of his three desktop telephones. He casually motioned for Jack to sit on one of the couches on the opposite
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