“Did you believe her?” asked Nadine.
“What do you know about John Wilson?”
“Not much besides what I learned online and from Monica. He got into politics because of his father, I believe.”
“Yes, a popular cabinet minister who unfortunately died early. John was so mediocre that the party doubted even name recognition would help. However, mediocrity has never been an obstacle to success, and Wilson managed to get more money than expected to fund his leadership campaigns. He lost but had the cash to get the ears of powerful men until he became one himself.”
“Do you know why he lost? I thought it was because they didn’t think he had the charisma for voters.”
Irina snorted. “Are you going to do your own research, or am I expected to do it for you?”
“I am conducting research with an in-person interview. You.”
Irina looked unimpressed but she said, “The story was Wilson didn’t have the voter touch the way his father had or the brains.” She paused to bark “Twenty minutes!” to some poor reporter trying to come into the library. “Yet it seemed he had money to try to buy the power he wanted. A lot of money, more than one would expect, and with no apparent origin.”
“He was embezzling?” asked Nadine.
“There’s no proof of that. Dot Voline’s bookThirty Pieces of Silvercame out with unerring timing during Wilson’s leadership bid. Although there was no way to connect Wilson to the Walton character in the book, some important people who knew Wilson noticed a few similarities. The name, obviously, and the relationship with the father. Wilson always wore his father’s old Rolex, Walton his father’s signet ring. That’s a detail few in the general public would have known.”
“The book is also about a lying politician who takes advantage of a woman who loved him,” Nadine said. “Was that a similarity as well?”
“Unknown. They were concerned Wilson Junior was covering up something though. Again, that wouldn’t have been an issue if he’d come clean with the grand pooh-bahs, but they suspected there were more skeletons in his closet. They didn’t care enough to do a thorough check, since it was only a book and written by a woman, but it was enough for them to back another horse.”
Nadine’s pulse quickened as it always did when she was getting somewhere with a story, tempered with the frustration that Irina hadn’t trusted her to tell her this information sooner. Well, she supposed she should be grateful Irina put her on the story at all all those weeks ago. “Do you think Dot Voline was having an affair with Wilson?”
“Do you have any evidence she worked in his office?”
“No.”
“Well then.”
Nadine took a breath. “I”—better to not raise suspicion with awe—“found some evidence that John Wilson might be connected withMatt White.”
“Some?”
“Photos in a collection of newspaper clippings. Then more clippings about people who had been caught out for professional misconduct, like Monica. I also found there was a web of people who knew Senator Wilson in some capacity and were involved in getting controversial infrastructure projects through. Ones that benefited the White Group.”
Irina gave her a long look. “I sometimes used to get leaks about political staff who had crossed the line. I was told they were from a trustworthy source, though anonymous. Many of those people admitted their wrongdoing, but some I had questions about.” Irina moved her hands back to her keyboard. “That led me to wonder why I was getting these convenient tips. After the Monica story broke and I started asking about where that blackmail story came from, the old editor in chief sent me down here.”
“Oh.” The implication was not one Nadine liked to entertain.
“I ask again if you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.” Nadine thought of something. “Ah, this is currently confidential. If you could not mention it to Daniel, I’d be grateful.”
The heavy silence was enough for Nadine to know she’d misstepped. “I’m not in the habit of gossiping about my work with Daniel,” said Irina coldly.
Nadine turned to go when Irina spoke again.
“Raj quit,” she said.
“I heard.”
“They hired a temp for the obituaries.”
“I’ve been reading them,” said Nadine, unsure of where Irina was going with this.
“Then you know they’re no good.” Irina waved her away. “They need a hand like yours. Off you go. I need to work.”
