Kompromat

Rosie Craig didn’t accompany Edward Barnard to the Florida Everglades National Park after all. They had just finished breakfast on the veranda, looking out at the Atlantic, when the ‘Craig for President’ Campaign HQ sent a text message: ‘Your father’s about to appear on CBS’.

So they poured themselves another cup of coffee, turned on the television and settled down to watch. Sure enough Ronald Craig soon appeared.

‘Looks fresh as a daisy, doesn’t he?’ Rosie commented. She admired her father’s stamina. He must have been up most of the night, and they’d already had the team meeting that morning. But it wasn’t just Craig’s stamina she admired. Her father’s ability to surprise, to shake things up, to think the unthinkable, intrigued and fascinated her. But she wasn’t starry-eyed. She was ready to take him to task when she felt she had to. And, to be fair, he was usually ready to listen – to her, at least.

Ron Craig seldom missed a trick. CBS had given him a platform, and by God he was going to use it! After a few minutes’ warm-up, he upped the volume to rant about the media. That was his special bugbear, now as always.

Looking straight at the camera, he stormed, ‘The dishonest media: they are part of the corrupt system. Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson, and Abraham Lincoln and many of our greatest presidents fought with the media and called them out on their lies. When the media lies to people, I will never, ever let them get away with it.’

Seconds later, Rosie’s phone rang.

‘Did you watch CBS, Rosie?’ Ronald Craig asked. ‘Did you hear what I said about the media, the lying bastards?’

Rosie held the phone away from her ear, until her father’s excitement had subsided.

‘You were great, Dad. Just great.’

Craig came to the point.

‘I’ve just had a message from Mickey Selkirk. He’s invited you to visit him on his ranch in Australia. He’s there at the moment. I want you to go. As you know, Selkirk owns newspapers and TV stations all over the world, scores of them in America by the way. He may say he doesn’t interfere with editorial policy. Bullshit! He’s interfering by not interfering. Go and see him. Up close and personal. Bring him round to our point of view. This is a golden opportunity.’

‘You think he’s ready?’

‘He’s gagging for it. Why else is he inviting you at this point? Mickey’s like me. He’s a deal-maker. Now is the best moment. He may never get a better offer. I’m still a dark horse, as far as the election this November is concerned. Caroline Mann is still way ahead in the polls.’

‘So you think he’s ready to come off the fence and support us? What do we have to offer?’

Craig ran through a list of the key points. Then he asked, ‘Is Ed Barnard still there?’

‘Yes, he is. I was about to take him to the Everglades. He wants to see the alligators.’

‘Give the Everglades a miss. Take Ed to Australia with you. If Ed wants to see alligators, he can meet Mickey Selkirk. He’s the biggest alligator of them all.’

Since returning from Russia, Jack Varese’s affair with Rosie Craig, which had begun in Russia’s Far East, had blossomed. Varese had a penthouse apartment at the corner of East 70th Street and Fifth Avenue. As it happened, Rosie Craig’s own apartment was only a block away but, while Varese was in town, she didn’t spend much time there. She spent most of the time in bed with Jack.

‘You certainly live up to your reputation,’ she said one morning after a strenuous session.

‘Glad you think so. I always aim to be of service. Yes, ma’am!’

She found him funny, and intelligent too.

‘I’m not going to stay in films for ever,’ he told her. ‘There are always younger kids on the block, waiting to pounce. I’ve got my eye on a political career. Remember Ronald Reagan? Arnold Schwarzenegger? Think I might run for Senate in California next time round.’

‘So that’s why you’re interested in me?’ Rosie pretended to be upset. ‘Because of the politics? Because my dad’s riding the crest of the wave?’

‘Hell no, I just like being with you.’

The previous weekend, they had popped over to the Bahamas in Varese’s Gulfstream 550. Rosie had gone back to Hasta La Vista – there was a campaign to run after all – but Varese had stayed on.

When he’d got Rosie’s call that morning, he was tickled pink. ‘Great! Fantastic. I’ll be there in an hour.’ You could almost see Florida from the Bahamas. It was that close.

Was he falling for Rosie? Jack Varese wondered, as he put the phone away. He had been to plenty of parties over the years and had dated myriad lovely ladies – hell, what would he do without them? – but he hadn’t fallen for someone in a long time. Not properly.

He met Rosie Craig and Ed Barnard that afternoon at Palm Beach International Airport. Rosie gave him a long, passionate kiss.

‘So good to see you, darling.’

‘You too,’ Varese said.

After they had disentangled themselves, Varese turned to greet Edward Barnard. ‘Hi, Ed, great to see you again.’