Worst Case Scenario Read Free Page B

height. In California she’d have been ten pounds overweight, but she’d be just about right in the Midwest, where boys like their girls with a little meat on their bones. Her nails were short and uncolored, and Wendy suspected that she spent a lot of time at a keyboard. Her manner suggested someone who planned things carefully. Wendy would have bet, for example, that she’d spent forty minutes in front of the mirror deciding what she’d wear today.
    â€œTwo things,” Bedford said. “First, I guess I think what looks like a weakness on my résumé is really a strength.”
    â€œWould you like to explain that?” Wendy asked.
    â€œThe job changes, the instability. After I left the National Security Council staff—”
    â€œDid you quit or were you fired?”
    â€œOh, I was fired,” Bedford said, her tone suggesting surprise at the notion of leaving the NSC staff any other way. “Change of administrations, new guys come in, vertical stroke.”
    â€œSure. I’m sorry, I interrupted you. You were saying after you left the staff.”
    â€œRight. I had two jobs where I lasted a little over a year. They were good jobs, too, and I knew I should’ve been grateful for them. It was just that neither of them could give me the kind of feeling I had about the NSC.”
    â€œDo you think sorting constituent mail and troubleshooting lost Social Security checks could measure up to the White House basement?”
    â€œYes. I was an administrative aide at the NSC. Glorified clerk. It wasn’t that I was doing anything all that challenging. It’s just that I was part of something that mattered, and I want to be again.”
    â€œI want the same thing,” Wendy said. She smiled encouragingly, found herself pleased when this coaxed a blushing smile from Bedford. “You said there were two things. What’s the second?”
    â€œAre you a baseball fan?”
    â€œI’m running for office in the Midwest. I have to be.”
    â€œYou know what they always say about those muscular outfielders that the contenders trade for in June? ‘He can help the team right away’?”
    â€œSure,” Wendy said.
    â€œThat’s what I can do. I can get you some serious face-time. Separate you from the crowd. I can give you something that’ll get the attention of the right people at the right time.”
    I have a trump card , Wendy translated mentally, and I want this job enough to play it . The tease was blatant enough, but Wendy couldn’t ignore it. Roughly a hundred million Americans would like to be in Congress, and only five hundred and thirty-five of them can be.
    â€œIf you have something that hot, shouldn’t you trade it for something more exalted than the staff of a potential House freshman?”
    The question was a test and Bedford passed.
    â€œI won’t lie to you,” she said. “I’d like an offer closer to a real power center, and if I get one I’ll take it. But I give you my word: if you say yes first, the auction’s over and your bid wins.”
    â€œCould you be a little more specific about what I’m bidding for?” Wendy asked.
    â€œNot here. But maybe later, if you’re interested after you’ve thought it over? I’m in the room on the second floor next to the political software company’s hospitality suite.”
    â€œOkay,” Wendy said. “I’ll give it some thought and I’ll try to stop by. But if I can’t, don’t hesitate to follow up.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Bedford said, her smile now broad and warm, “I’m not the least bit shy.”
    ***
    A stone-faced, shiny-headed man introduced Jerry Marciniak, M.D., Ph.D., known to Beltway initiates as Dr. Marc. The stone-face reminded the audience, quite unnecessarily, that Marciniak was both a doctor of medicine and a research scientist holding a doctorate in cellular