Vortex by Catherine Coulter

Mia

One Police Plaza

New York City

Friday morning

It was cold, a stiff wind blowing, but the plaza was packed with reporters and camera crews, and vans lined the street. Mia watched Alex Harrington, flanked by Pamela Barrett, his campaign manager, Cory Hughes, and his senior staffer, Miles Lombardy, and other staffers form a phalanx around him. He strode tall onto the makeshift stage set in front of the fourteen-story New York City Police Department headquarters, his shoulders back, his handsome face set in austere lines.

He stood at the front of the stage, a dozen microphones in front of him, a sea of media faces staring up at him. He stood a moment, a middle-class winter coat flapping around his legs, a sharp wind blowing his hair, stoic and silent, as dozens of photos were snapped. If Mia didn’t know exactly who and what he really was, she’d have thought he looked heroic.

When at last he spoke, his deep voice resonated to the far reaches of the plaza. “I thank you all for coming. It is with profound regret I stand here in front of this impressive building to announce I’m stepping out of the mayoral race of this great city.”

He turned and nodded to the line of people behind him. “I want to thank you, my tireless campaign staff, and tell you how sorry I am to let you down so unexpectedly. Thank you for all your hours of work, for the resources you provided, and for believing in us. What you did was humbling and inspiring. I feel lucky that for a while I was a part of it. I will be forever grateful.

“I especially want to thank you, Cory Hughes, and you, Miles Lombardy, for your dedication and hard work. With people like all of you leading our dedicated campaign, we might well have won this race.

“I also want to thank Pamela, my fiancée, for her unwavering belief in me, and, of course, my family, my parents, especially, for helping us make this campaign possible.

“I so wish I could continue this effort to address so many pressing issues, from health care to quality education for those of us less fortunate.” He paused a moment, studied the faces looking up at him. “I’ve always believed each of us has infinite value, no one individual more than any other. I believe New York should be the vibrant proud soul of our uniquely American spirit.

“I am proud of this city, and I see what it’s capable of becoming. I firmly believe our way forward is to work toward crossing the chasms that divide us, racial and political. We share so much more in what we value than we sometimes realize.

“It is with a heavy heart I must now give up my hope to pursue that vision as your mayor, at least today, in this election. All of us have obligations, our families being our touchstones. Both personal and family matters have arisen unexpectedly, and now require my full attention.”

He paused, looked over the sea of faces. “Thank you very much.”

Questions roared at him like a tsunami, so many voices it was a chaos of sounds. Alex stood tall, held himself straight, his expression somber, and waited for the voices to die down. He pointed to Cynthia Pederson of FOX. She called out, full volume, “Is there a connection between your quitting the race and your lifelong friend, Kent Harper, being shot last night at his home? Do you have any comments on that shooting, Mr. Harrington?”

Alex’s jaw turned to granite, but when he spoke, he seemed suddenly to be hanging on by a thread, pain clear in his voice. “Yes, my friend was shot last night outside his home, and that is part of why I am suspending my campaign. Mr. Harper is not only a fine man and one of our civic leaders, he’s been one of my best friends since childhood. I and all his friends and family are praying for him. We trust that our police force”—he turned toward the building behind him—“will discover those responsible for that heinous act.”

He pointed to Jana Zugoni, CNN. She called out, “There are rumors you are leaving the race because of allegations Mr. Harper was involved in sexual improprieties, even sexual crimes, and that you are, in fact, involved. Would you please comment, Mr. Harrington?”

Mia smiled. She’d known Alex wouldn’t ever acknowledge her, so she’d given Jana that question. She’d nailed it.

His hands clutched the edges of the podium, his look both startled and bewildered. “I don’t know where you heard such a ridiculous rumor, Ms. Zugoni, but since you think it responsible to ask, the idea of harming a woman in such a way is abhorrent to me, and to Mr. Harper.” He let anger show. “That is all I will say, more than such a vicious allegation is worth.”

Before Alex could point to another reporter, Jana shouted out again, “But isn’t that why you’re dropping out, Mr. Harrington? You’re afraid women will come forward?”

He leaned in, his anger banked again, his voice stern and cold as a Puritan preacher’s. “I do not know where you’ve heard this nonsense, Ms. Zugoni. I will say it again, I am dropping out of the campaign because of personal family issues. Those involved deserve privacy. There is nothing more to it than that.”

Jana shouted back, “I’m told the allegations stem back to the years you and Mr. Harper attended Bennington Prep together. Would you care to comment?”

Mia saw no trace of guilt in Alex’s expression, only honest puzzlement and insult, and the controlled anger of the righteous man. He really was very good. He glanced back toward Pamela, whose expression was not as controlled, fury clear on her face. Alex gave a slight shake of his head but she ignored him, strode forward like a force of nature, and placed her gloved hand on his sleeve, ready to leap into the fray. She stared out over the sea of faces in front of her, and slowly, the voices died until there was only the sound of the traffic. When she spoke, Pamela’s voice was filled with pain mixed with fury, a potent combination and very effective. “Kent Harper is also one of my own lifelong friends. He is at this moment fighting for his life, so I will answer for him. He would be as appalled as Mr. Harrington by these slanderous rumors. They are unconscionable and malicious. My fiancé, all of us who love Kent, are suffering along with him from this brutal assault. I think it’s time for you to show some compassion, and some restraint.” Pamela swiped her hand over a tear.

Alex gently eased her away and stepped back to the microphones. “As you can see, we are all upset. I thank you for coming, and I ask all of you to pray for my friend. We are on our way to Bellevue to be with his family.” He managed a stiff smile toward Pamela, whose tears sparkled on her cheeks.

And Mia wondered. Tears of pain or tears of rage?

More questions rang out, but Alex shook his head, took Pamela’s hand in his, and stepped down from the dais, followed by his silent entourage.

Mia stepped out from behind big Jumbo Hardy of The New Yorker, willed Pamela to see her. Their eyes met and the look Pamela sent her way could have burned asphalt. But only for an instant. Her sad, brave smile returned. She walked with Alex to a long black limousine that idled at the curb. He and Pamela disappeared inside.