“They must be worried about the MHD idea if they’re showing muscle already,” Amy said.

Jake made a wry grin. “Well, they’ve got me worried, that’s for sure.”

Amy reasoned, “Sinclair must have told Leeds everything about the MHD program. Now Leeds recognizes it as a threat to him.”

“A threat to me, you mean.”

As if she didn’t hear Jake, she mused, “Why doesn’t Leeds just come out and announce he’s backing MHD? He could do it before Franklin does and he could start pushing for federal funding right away. Take the issue right out from under our feet.”

“Maybe Tomlinson should make a statement about MHD right away,” Jake suggested.

“Before his official announcement that he’s running?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Jake said, “He could say he’s interested as a private citizen. A concerned voter and taxpayer.”

“Jake, that’s not the way the game works.”

He saw, though, that there was something going on in her mind. Amy sat silently, idly twirling her long-stemmed martini glass in both hands. Those hazel eyes were looking past him, focused on some new idea taking form. Jake picked up his glass and took a healthy swallow of his dark beer.

Slowly, as if rehearsing the agenda for herself, Amy said, “Franklin’s due to announce his candidacy in another ten days.…”

His Christmas present to the state’s voters, Jake said to himself.

“… And Leeds can make a statement about MHD anytime he wants to,” Amy continued. “Either from his office here or from Washington.”

Jake said, “If he does it from here he can have Sinclair standing beside him.”

Amy nodded slowly. Suddenly she hunched toward Jake and said, “You’re right! Franklin’s got to make a public announcement about MHD now! Right away! Before Leeds can open his mouth about it.”

“Before he announces his candidacy?”

“Yes!” Amy said, with iron certainty. “Tomorrow. It’ll get him headlines, interviews on the news shows. Then, when he does announce he’s running, he can say that the opportunity MHD offers this state is what made him decide to run.”

“Instead of the other way around.”

“Exactly. Jake, you’re a political genius!”

He laughed out loud, thinking that a political genius ought to be rewarded in bed.

And so he was.

*   *   *

The regional Public Broadcasting System TV station was on campus. The university ran the PBS station and melded it with the courses they offered on television and journalism.

Franklin Tomlinson still looked doubtful about the whole business when he entered the bare little studio. The walls were blue-painted cinderblock, the ceiling festooned with dangling television lights. Three TV cameras stood in one corner, their cables snaking across the concrete floor.