Sutton and her husband were arguing about his drinking. Pilar listened for a few minutes, hoping to learn something of the senator’s schedule, but they weren’t talking about anything she could use. Just the same thing being said over and over again. She found it tedious and pathetic. Such a powerful woman, Pilar thought, suffocating in such a boring marriage. Bored herself, Pilar switched over to the microphone in Paul Godwin’s cabin. The conversation there was more interesting. Paul and the lady Secret Service agent were talking about sharing a bed. She thought of the lady agent that night at the Washington Hilton. She was blond, slim, elegant in her red gown and pearls. Beautiful even. And practical, too, from the lecture she was giving Paul on sharing the bed. Pilar smiled sardonically at the thought of Paul that night she’d gone up to his room. She could still picture him, timid, his heart pounding when he touched her, his breath hitching when she touched him. Was he doing the same thing now, looking at that bed with the little monkey made of towels on it, his mind racing around thoughts of sleeping next to that pretty agent?
