Booktree.ng_Forgotten-Witness

Ambrose had somehow turned Eugene toward the door. It
was open. Once again he was being handed his coat. Once
again he was on the street looking at the closed door to the
senator’s house but now he was warm despite the wind and the
chill. He had the confidence of the greatest statesman ever to
walk the earth and he would prove to him that his faith was not
misplaced.
Much later Eugene would realize that something was
wrong. At that moment, though, the feeling of dread was so
deep inside him that it could be mistaken for a bit of
indigestion or overexertion. He went back to his apartment,
undressed, and climbed into bed intending to sleep but he
could not. He was not convinced, as Ambrose seemed to be,
that Ian Francis had not opened up a can of worms. Eugene
finally drifted off only to have his dreams haunted by facts,
figures, and faces. It was fertile ground to grow the seed
Ambrose had planted and the plant was blooming with tiny
buds of discontent and disappointment in his senator.
In his home, Ambrose was also having thoughts about
Eugene. He went to his office and made notes to pass along to
Norma. She was such a lovely, efficient woman. Unlike
Eugene, Norma followed directions without hysterical
extrapolation of Ambrose’s motives. When he was finished,
Ambrose went upstairs, undressed, and got into bed alongside
Lydia. He rolled on his side. She took his hand.
“What did Eugene want?” she mumbled.
“To be important,” he said back.