It was nice meeting you. We’ll have to have that coffee.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Hershey said, doing that bow thing again.
“So,” I said, once Anne was gone, trying not to dwell on the way Hershey’s eyes followed her progress down the hall.
“OK,” he said. “Ever heard of Triple F?” I shook my head.
“It stands for Fair Funding Focus, otherwise known as Governor Hubbard’s school-funding plan.”
I thought about this. “The acronym is all F’s?”
“Leave it to the Democrats. After they realized their mistake, they tried changing the name to ‘A Better Collaboration,’—ABC, get it?” he said. “But it was way too late. Serves them right, in my opinion.”
“I guess. So what about it?”
“It’s the biggest story in the state at the moment. And one I’ve been kicking ass on, pardon my French.”
“It’s big because—?”
“Ohio’s school-funding system has been ruled unconstitutional so many times it’s practically got ‘Return to Sender’ stamped on the first page. Hubbard thinks he’s finally got the numbers right. Enough to appease the state Supreme Court, anyway. Get it declared fit for duty once and for all. That alone would be huge.”
“And someone’s following you because of this?”
“I’m getting there. The thing is, enacting Triple F into law has another aspect to it.”
“Namely?”
“The eensy-weensy, itsy-bitsy side benefit of providing the feather in Hubbard’s cap to win over Senator Rodriguez.”
“JoAnn Rodriguez? The presidential candidate?”
“One and the same.”
“What’s she got to do with any of this?”
Hershey winked at me. “You know how, in high school, the prettiest girl, by amazing coincidence, always goes to prom with the quarterback?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“I bet. So imagine Rodriguez as our cheerleader captain. The hunk she really wants on her arm at prom—her choice for veep, in case I’ve lost you—is our very own Thomas Huntington Hubbard. They’d make such a cute couple—conservative Democrat from California and a moderate midwestern governor. Rodriguez brings the Latinos and women, Hubbard delivers the unions. Voila!”
“OK, match made in heaven. I get it.”
“Hubbard’s even got a best-selling book, which no doubt you’ve read. I know Rodriguez’s people have, cover to cover.”
“I think my Kindle shorted out that week.”
“Core Convictions,” Hershey said. “Biographies of great American populist politicians. Comes with a nice long personal essay that puts him square in that tradition just in case the allusion to his own career escaped you after seven hundred pages.”
“So you’ve read it?”
“Every word, Woody, every word. Thomas Hubbard, literary lion, and don’t you forget it.”
“My nightstand awaits.”
“It’s actually better than you’d imagine. But there’s only one problem with Hubbard.”
“Which is?”
“Something that you of all people can identify with. He may be governor of the most crucial swing state in the country, with a knockout first lady wife and two adorable kids, not to mention Core Convictions, but he needs an extra something before Rodriguez extends the invitation.”
“Like what?”
“A win, Woody. A big win. We’re not talking Big Ten championship crapola. Sugar Bowl, minimum.”
I considered this. “Triple F,” I said.
“Bingo. Hubbard gets his school-funding law passed, he takes Rodriguez to prom, otherwise known as Rodriguez-Hubbard 2016.”
“And if Triple F fails?”
“If Hubbard can’t deliver the bill, the governor of Pennsylvania is looking like a mighty fine consolation prize.”
“And that’s why you think you’re being followed? Because of the politics involved?”
“The stakes are pretty high. Objectively speaking, I think some of my stories have annoyed people with a powerful interest in seeing the education bill passed.”
“And they’re trying to stop you? Or what?”
“Not really sure. Though for starters, I’d guess they’re trying to find out who my sources are.”
“And who are they?”
“People whose identities I prefer not to divulge for now.”
“So I just avert my eyes and look the other way when you’re in the parking garage talking to Deep Throat?”
“Don’t worry about that part of it,” he said. “Just hang with me when I need you. They’ll get the message, whoever they are.”
“And you really have no idea who it might be?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s Hubbard’s folks. Maybe it’s Rodriguez’s camp. Maybe President Ryan’s people are coming down from Michigan to make sure I’m not being followed by Rodriguez’s people. Maybe it’s nutso Tea Party types who want us to go back to slide rules and corporal punishment. I don’t know. But I care to find out. That’s why I came to you.”
“Are you worried, or just curious?”
He hesitated. “Normally, I’d say, you know, fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke. I mean, it’s a free country, First Amendment, Fourth Estate, and all that.”
“But?”
“But it’s a bit of a scary world right now. A Charlie Hebdo world, if you know what I mean.”
“That sounds a lot more serious than someone trying to bust your sources.”
“For the record, I don’t think guys with black masks and daggers are out to behead me. It just seems like an overabundance of caution is the way to go.”
“Have you talked to the police?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I report it, it becomes a public record, someone writes about it. I report news. I’ve no interest in being the news. So what do you say?”
“How
