Page 37 of Edge of Honor

When the red light on the camera went off, Coughlin pointed at the small blender on his desk filled with green juice and growled, “Get that crap the hell out of here. Just the smell of it makes me want to puke.”

The producer walked into the booth, stuck his nose over the top of the blender and took a whiff. “Doesn’t smell too bad to me. In fact, you know what I think it smells like?”

“No matter how I answer that, you’re still going to tell me, aren’t you?” replied the host as he gathered up the papers on his desk.

“It smells like money.”

“And ittasteslike dog shit. I don’t know how I let you talk me into actually drinking that stuff on camera.”

“Because by drinking it on-air, the company agreed to pay us even more. It’s good for our bottom line.”

Coughlin was about to push back when he noticed Blackwood out in the lobby.

“How long has the senator been here?” he asked.

The producer glanced over his shoulder. “Just arrived. Should I send him in?”

“I’ve got to take a piss. You can put him in my office.”

“You got it, CC.”

The producer showed Blackwood to the rear of the basement space where Coughlin’s office was.

Despite air fresheners plugged into almost every outlet, the place smelled dank and musty with a strong top layer of cigar smoke. Blackwood never could figure out what the appeal for Coughlin was other than being able to live right upstairs.

The producer offered to bring Blackwood a water, and told him to make himself comfortable.

Driven by his love of political scandals and conspiracy theories, Coughlin easily had one of the wildest and most unique offices in D.C. Grabbing a seat, Blackwood sat down and took it all in.

There were reel-to-reel Watergate-era tapes allegedly from Nixon’s tape recorder, along with a vintage press pass from the time. Near a collection of rebel memorabilia from the Iran-Contra scandal was a framed copy of the 1964 Warren Commission Report. A shadow box showcased a 2000 voting ballot, complete with a “hanging chad.” Personal items supposedly belonging to Marilyn Monroe sat side by side with intelligence reports from the failed 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion. Objects supposedly connected to the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy Sr. were juxtaposed with pieces of “alien metal” allegedly taken from Area 51. Magazine covers and newspaper articles covered every inch of wall space, while political posters covered the ceiling.

Chuck Coughlin was an eccentric piece of work. He was also an incredibly skilled propagandist. Using him to foment Mitchell’s base had been an inspired choice. He not only understood them, he was one of them himself. Or at least he had been. Until Mitchell “went soft.”

“Senator Blackwood,” said Coughlin as he entered the office and walked over to shake his guest’s hand. “It’s always good to see you.”

“You too, Chuck. Congrats on a real barnburner of a show today. You hit Mitchell hard, dead center.”

“That was the plan, right?”

“Correct,” Blackwood replied. “It was also the plan to talk up the Vice President.”

“Then Vice President Cates is going to have to do more than walk out of his house and leave flowers at the site. What kind of a split screen is that? Mitchell is at the hospital, visiting the survivors, and Cates is standing at a fence surrounded by crime-scene tape. Which one looks more like a leader to you?”

Blackwood couldn’t argue. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m definitely right,” replied Coughlin. “Mitchell’s PR people are good. They know what they’re doing. Cates and his team need to be better.”

“What should he do?”

“He needs to get out ahead of Mitchell. He needs to show that he’s not only a capable leader, but a better leader.”

“Okay,” said Blackwood, “but in what world does Mitchell allow his vice president to upstage and outshine him?”

“Politics,” said Coughlin, “like anything else in life, is all about timing.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaningthe next time something breaks, make sure Vice President Cates just so happens to be standing in front of a mountain of microphones. That’ll be his moment. Whether he pulls the sword from the stone or not is up to him. But if he does, we’ll be able to send his polling through the roof.”

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