AS OFTEN HAPPENS WHEN a situation is urgent, the best efforts are foiled by mundaneness.
Senator Lord has never been the sort to hesitate in making phone calls himself. He has no egotistical insecurities and finds it is quicker to handle a matter than to explain it to someone else. The instant he hangs up at the pay phone, he returns to his car and drives north, talking on his hands-free to his chief counsel.
"Jeff, I need the number of the warden at Polunsky. Now."
Writing notes while driving in rush hour on I-95 is a special feat the senator was forced to learn years ago.
He enters a bad cell and can't hear his chief counsel.
Repeatedly calling him back, the senator gets no signal. When he does get through, he is greeted by voicemail, because Jeff is trying to call him back, too.
"Get off the phone!" the senator exclaims to no one who can hear him.
Twenty minutes later, a secretary is still trying to track down the warden.
Senator Lord senses-and this has happened before-that she isn't sure she believes the person on the other line is really Senator Frank Lord, one of the most powerful and visible politicians in the country. Usually, important people let less important people schedule appointments and make telephone calls.
Senator Lord concentrates on creeping traffic and angry drivers, and has been on hold for minutes. No one with intelligence or, better yet, a certainty of who she is talking to would dare to put him on hold. This is his reward for humility and taking care of himself efficiently, including picking up his own dry cleaning, stopping at the grocery store and even making his own restaurant reservations, despite recurring problems with maоtre d's writing nothing down, certain the call is a prank or someone trying to trick him into giving him the best table.
"I'm sorry." The secretary finally returns. "I can't seem to locate him. He's very busy this morning because there's an execution tonight. Can I take a message?"
"What is your name?" Jodi.
"No, Jodi, you can't take a message. This is an emergency."
"Well," she hesitates, "caller ID doesn't show you're calling from Washington. I can't just yank him out of an important meeting or whatever and then find out it's not really you."
"I don't have time for this. Find him. Or, for God's sake, does the man have an assistant?"
Again, he enters a bad cell and it takes fifteen minutes before he can get through to the secretary again. She has left her desk. Another young woman answers the phone and he loses her, too.