Senator Stanhope’s Home
November 28, 8.30 p.m.
The limousine cruised powerfully over the Hell Gate Bridge. At night, New York had to be one of the most beautiful sights in the world, sparkling with lights over the stretch of water known as Hell Gate. There was nothing like coming home to Manhattan. Nothing in the world, according to Senator John Stanhope. He loved New York. He’d given his life to New York. He’d worked his ass off to represent the 34th Senate District at the New York State Senate and now he was a state senator and everything was groovy. His daughters made him promise not to use that word, but in secret he still did. It made him laugh. Why not laugh? You had to, right?
At fifty-five years old John Stanhope was a family man, a Protestant who worked hard and believed in America. He was brought up very modestly in West Virginia, on a farm in the north-east of the state, and had worked himself into the privileged position of senator after becoming CEO of a pharmaceutical company. It didn’t concern his morality that this company was making millions selling drugs to African nations, that was just business. John knew how to separate business from private morality and the lessons of the Bible.
His second wife, Caroline, was a political lobbyist and she got on with his two daughters, Mary and Rose, who were twenty-one and nineteen. And all four of them got on real well. He was delighted with that. A real happy family.
It had been a busy day for him. It started with a run round the park at 6 a.m. and then breakfast with several newspapers before his briefing at 8.30 a.m. and his first committee meeting at 9.30. He was a member of quite a few committees so he was always back and forth from the State Senate to deal with aspects of Security, Education, Armed Services, Housing, Health and Urban Affairs.
It was amazing what you ended up dealing with, but you just had to listen closely, remember what you were there for and vote or decide accordingly.
Now he was whacked and ready for a whisky by the fire with Caroline and a cuddle from the girls.
His security men got out of his car and stood still, their eyes scanning around. Senator Stanhope climbed out and walked across the drive behind the tall electronic gates.
‘We’re okay, Bill, don’t fret,’ he said and saw Rose, his little girl, standing in her socks on the porch. ‘Bless her, still like when she was four years old running out to greet me.’
‘We’ll be here tonight, Senator.’
‘There’s no need, boys. Go home, see your wives.’
‘Even if we wanted to, Senator, we couldn’t. We’ve got orders. So don’t you worry. Go and see your family.’
‘I insist. I’ll see you at six a.m.’ Senator Stanhope shook Bill’s hand and thanked his driver, then strolled up to the house.
‘How you doing, honeybunch?’
‘Good, Daddy. How was your day?’
‘It was okay but I’m glad to be home with you. Is Mary here?’
‘Yeah, you know she is. It’s your birthday, you big fool.’
‘Oh, that. I forgot all about that.’
He went into the house and his small family was gathered by the open fire in the living room. His heart melted when he saw them. There had been years when he’d worried about the effect on Mary and Rose of giving so much time to politics, but they both seemed stable and settled.
There was a simple banner saying Happy Birthday Dad above the fire and a pile of presents on the table. Mary and Rose hugged and kissed him and Caroline brought him his favourite tipple, a twenty-year-old malt from Islay far away in Scotland.
He smiled. Life had been good to him.
Outside in the car, Bill and Adam flipped a coin to see who was going to do the perimeter one last time before they called it a night. Bill lost and he got out of the car. The thing was, the fence was high and electronically monitored so there wasn’t a lot of point in walking the perimeter.
Sebastian would have agreed: there wasn’t much point at all. He was already in the house.