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"A rich candidate would not be attractive," Teddy said, then reached for yet another button. Images returned to the wall, sharp and in color. "Money will not be a problem, Mr. Lake," he said, his voice much lighter. "We'll get the defense contractors to pay for it. Look at that," he said, waving with his right hand as if Lake wasn't sure what to look at. "Last year the aerospace and defense industry did almost two hundred billion in business. We'll take just a fraction of that."
"How much of a fraction?"
"As much as you need. We can realistically collect a hundred million dollars from them."
"You also can't hide a hundred million dollars."
"Don't bet on it, Mr. Lake. And don't worry about it. We'll take care of the money. You make the speeches, do the ads, run the campaign. The money will pour in. By the time November gets here, the American voters will be so terrified of Armageddon they won't care how much you've spent. It'll be a landslide."
So Teddy Maynard was offering a landslide. Lake sat in a stunned but giddy silence and gawked at all that money up there on the wall--$194 billion, defense and aerospace. Last year's military budget was $270 billion. Double that to $540 billion in four years, and the contractors would get fat again. And the workers! Wages soaring through the roof! Jobs for everyone!
Candidate Lake would be embraced by executives with the cash and unions with the votes. The initial shock began to fade, and the simplicity of Teddy's plan became clear. Collect the cash from those who will profit. Scare the voters into racing to the polls. Win in a landslide. And in doing so save the world. Teddy let him think for a moment, then said, "We'll do most of it through PAC's. The unions, engineers, executives, business coalitions--there's no shortage of political groups already on the books. And we'll form some others."
Lake was already forming them. Hundreds of PAC's, all flush with more cash than any election had ever seen. The shock was now completely gone, replaced by the sheer excitement of the idea. A thousand questions raced through his mind: Who'll be my Vice President? Who'll run the campaign? Chief of staff? Where to announce? "It might work," he said, under control.
"Oh yes. It'll work, Mr. Lake. Trust me. We've been planning this for some time."
"How many people know about it?"
"Just a few. You've been carefully chosen, Mr. Lake. We examined many potential candidates, and your name kept rising to the top. We've checked your background."
"Pretty dull, huh?"
"I suppose. Although your relationship with Ms. Valotti concerns me. She's been divorced twice and likes painkillers."
"Didn't know I had a relationship with Ms. Valotti."
"You've been seen with her recently."
"You guys are watching, aren't you?"
"You expect something less?"
"I guess not."
"You took her to a black-tie cry-a-thon for oppressed women in Afghanistan. Gimme a break." Teddy's words were suddenly short and dripping with sarcasm.
"I didn't want to go."
"Then don't. Stay away from that crap. Leave it for Hollywood. Valotti's nothing but trouble."
"Anybody else?" Lake asked, more than a little defensive. His private life had been pretty dull since he'd become a widower. He was suddenly proud of it. "Not really," Teddy said. "Ms. Benchly seems to be quite stable and makes a lovely escort."
"Oh, thank you very much."
"You'll get hammered on abortion, but you won't be the first."
"It's a tired issue," Lake said. And he was tired of grappling with it. He'd been for abortions, against abortions, soft on reproductive rights, tough on reproductive rights, pro-choice, pro-child, anti-women, embraced by the feminists. In his fourteen years on Capitol Hill he'd been chased all over the abortion minefield, getting bloodied with each new strategic move.
Excerpted from The Brethren by John Grisham. Copyright© 2000 by Belfry Holdings, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
They say that in the end truth will triumph, but it's a lie.
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