"What do you want?" Henson asked cautiously.
"Merely your acknowledgment, to me, right now, that the figures were falsified, at your suggestion, and . . ."
"I admit nothing. Nothing." Henson hung up the phone.
Shaken, he dialed the phone, twice. In his haste he misdialed the first time. "Get me Brocker. Now. This is Henson."
"Brocker," the other end of the phone responded nonchalantly.
"Bill, Bob here. We got troubles."
* * * * *
"Senator Rickfield? I think you better take this call." Ken Boyers was earnest in his suggestion. The aged Senator looked up and recognized a certain urgency. The youthful 50 year old Ken Boyers had been with Senator Merrill Rickfield since the mid 1960's as an aide de campe, a permanent fixture in Rickfield's national success. Ken preferred the number two spot, to be the man in the background rather the one in the public light. He felt he could more effectively wield power without the constant surveillance of the press. Only when events and deals were completely orchestrated were they made public, and then Merrill could take the credit. The arrangement suited them both.
Rickfield indicated that his secretary and the two junior aids should leave the room. "What is it Ken?"
"Just take the call, listen carefully, and then we'll talk."