Reprisal!- The Eagle Rises

by Cliff Roberts

  Combs had seen the signs early on that this senator was destined to be more than a member of the Senate back benchers. Combs had been instrumental in encouraging Senator Starks to forgo the mundane day-to-day grind that is the life of a senator in favor of making a run for the presidency. Starks made numerous trips that crisscrossed the nation at the taxpayers’ expense, building his political recognition and launching exploratory committees on his behalf. He’d jet into Washington for crucial votes and then jet right back out onto the campaign trail, two years before the election.

  Combs arranged for the senator to be booked on every TV and radio talk show, from the local a.m. morning shows to the mid-day and evening national radio talk shows to the late night news programs. The senator became a fixture on the Sunday talk shows, as well. Starks was the consummate political interviewee. He never allowed the hosts to trap him in to giving any official opinion, always leaving himself an out. His responses allowed the listener to assume whatever he wanted but also allowed Starks to claim the exact opposite was what he had really said, should the political winds suddenly turn and blow the other way. He was never too firm, never too soft, and always aware that he didn’t want to alienate voters of either political persuasion. He quickly discovered that the media loved him for it.

  Combs even managed to get Starks booked on the rightwing radio talk shows where he easily controlled the conversation with his quick wit and charm, while winning support from many in the listening audience. Combs encouraged Senator Starks to build alliances with every newsmaker or opinion maker who would give him the time of day, providing the senator continuous print and photo coverage from the news media.

  The late night talk show hosts joked that Senator Starks was seen more often on TV and magazine covers than Lady Gaga or Rhiana, both of whom the senator had photo ops with on several occasions. It was while building his national image that the senator became close friends with several major lobbying firm owners and dozens of leading Wall Street investors.

  Over time, Jason’s skill at running the senator’s office brought him the coveted position of campaign manager when Starks announced his presidential candidacy. As an incentive to Jason, Starks alluded that in the event that Combs’ campaign management delivered the presidency, he would hold the coveted position of Chief of Staff in the Starks White House. This seemed only fair, since Combs had already been functioning as Starks’ right hand man and was closer to the man than anyone, except his wife.

  Despite the senator’s political recognition—the highest ever polled—fundraising had been a major challenge. Contributions to Starks’ campaign lagged far behind the two other presidential hopefuls on his side of the ticket and was nonexistent compared to the Republican candidates. The campaign struggled to keep the TV and radio advertisements running through the primaries. Somehow though, at the last minute, Combs had always come up with the needed funds. He found them in the triple mortgage of Starks’ home outside Atlantic City and the triple mortgage of the family’s beach house at Cape May. He’d found it in the college funds for the senator’s three children and personal loans taken out by staffers, including himself.

  The news media had attributed these last minute reprieves to the grass roots contributors of his Internet campaign, which for the most part was correct. Starks was a huge success with the small contributors, but he struggled to receive contributions from the Party’s elite and the big money PACs. In their eyes, he hadn’t earned the right to run yet. He was just a first term senator, and if he wanted to continue splintering the party, well, he’d have to do it without their money. So Combs made the deals—the selling of the senator’s soul—that had to be made with far left money men and ultra wealthy elites. Despite his own party’s big wigs refusal to embrace him, the junior senator from New Jersey had won the bitter primary over the party’s one time darling—a female congresswoman. She had out spent him three to one but kept sticking her foot in her mouth and appeared weak by using the gender card far too often.

  Combs had hoped that after the convention, her contributors would put aside the primaries and rally behind his man because he was the party’s nominee, but they hadn’t. There was even a small but vocal group calling for a write-in campaign in the fall against Starks. Then, when you added the fact that his adversary from the other party had a war chest of over five hundred million dollars, most of it left over from his unopposed sweep to his party’s nomination, the senator’s chances had looked decidedly bleak.

  This was the nightmare situation that had brought Combs to Washington today. He was scheduled to meet with several senior senators and big political insiders regarding possible funding options. All of them would be offering to provide cash in return for Starks providing them with a political favor or two, designed to give them the clout they hungered for. It was all typical Washington fundraising—legal, yet smelling somehow like a bad septic field on a hot summer’s day, ripe with corruption and corruptible people. Combs knew this was the way things were done, and he wasn’t above using them just as they wanted to use Starks. Money for political favors was the tried and true method of winning the White House since the first of the Founding Fathers had held it.

  This morning’s breakfast meeting in the Capitol Dining Room hadn’t gone too well. The movers and shakers were sensing blood in the water, and the political favors that they wanted from Starks in exchange for their money and influence were far too large. It was politics at its worst; the “What’s in it for me?” stage. Everyone wanted something in exchange for their perceived political clout or cash, but it was even more prevalent when the candidate running looked to be in serious trouble in the polls or the fundraising game. Starks was in trouble in both cases.

  It was a vicious circle. Without the funds to run the ads that help formulate public opinion, your poll numbers drop. Then your ability to generate campaign contributions drop, which are needed to run the ads in the first place. This catch-22 scenario dominated politics behind the scenes, and the movers and shakers in Washington sought to take full advantage of Starks’ dilemma. They’d provide some campaign funding now in return for promises of cabinet positions, ambassadorships, civil servant postings, judgeships and even political party postings. Then, if Starks managed to gain in the polls, they’d provide more money, thus keeping Starks on a short leash—their leash.

  Combs’ sour mood caused by all the self-promotion of those egocentric asses struggling for a piece of the presidency took a turn for the better when he received a call from his old college roommate, Hassan Saud. Hassan had explained that he’d love to meet Combs for lunch today and catch up on old times. He’d even offered to pay, which was music to Jason’s ears since he hadn’t been paid in six weeks.

  They were to meet at the University Club in Georgetown, a local nighttime hangout that would provide some privacy at noon time, so the old friends could catch up undisturbed. Combs jumped at the distraction. When he arrived, he found his old friend seated in the University Club’s outdoor patio, basking in the bright, warm sunlight of summer.

  “Jason!” Hassan beamed, a huge smile filling his face, as he waved Jason over to his table just inside the hedgerow that separated the restaurant from the sidewalk and the parking lot. Hassan looked as rich as ever in his casual business clothes.

  “My God, it’s been what? Five years? You’ve really moved up in the world. Come, sit down. Waiter, bring my friend a white wine and a menu.” Hassan stepped up, giving Combs a big hug and a kiss on each cheek per the Arab world’s custom, which always embarrassed Combs. He’d much rather just shake hands.

  “I see your taste in suits hasn’t changed,” Hassan jabbed at Jason as they slipped into their chairs, and Combs was finally able to get a word in edgewise.

  “It’s good to see you, too, you old goat herder. How long have you been in Washington? The last I heard you had moved back home and were the spokesman for the family business.”

  “Ah, Allah works in strange ways. First, my father wants me hom
e. Then, he wants me to leave and get out of his hair. He still loves me, but he feels I need to become more ‘worldly,’ so here I am.”

  “More worldly, is that code for getting laid?” Combs grinned at his friend, who acted as if he hadn’t heard the comment. Sensing that he may have made his friend uncomfortable, Jason moved on quickly. “Are you working?” It seemed a safe but an odd question to ask Hassan.

  Jason knew that his friend didn’t ever have to work. His father gave him an allowance that would place his friend in the top ten percent of income brackets around the world. A job for Hassan was just something to cut the boredom and fill the time between dates.

  “I have a small position with a PR firm but nothing as exciting as yours, the Campaign Manager for the Democratic Presidential Candidate,” Hassan emphasized the words providing a dramatic flair to them. “You will be a powerful man after the election,” Hassan stated with a knowing look upon his face as the waiter returned, setting a glass of wine and a menu in front of Jason.

  “The chance of that happening doesn’t look so good right now. If I don’t find some money—and soon—he’ll likely lose in a landslide. When that happens, I’ll be lucky to keep a spot on his senate staff. A losing campaign manager becomes a pariah, but on the bright side, I might get to be a pundit on some TV talk show or something. If I have a choice, I’d rather win the election. If that should happen, I can write my own ticket,” Combs concluded as the waiter prepared to take their orders.

  While they waited for their food, the two men reminisced about their college days and talked about why neither was married. Combs found this odd, since it was the custom of Hassan’s people to marry young, usually through an arranged marriage. Hassan dismissed the idea as old fashioned and smiled as he spoke about the many women who found his rugged dark features handsome. He then shared that those who knew he was from a wealthy family, found his wealth even more handsome.

  Combs bemoaned the fact that it was almost impossible for him to find women to date since his job frequently didn’t allow for very much personal time. He joked that once he was Chief of Staff for the President, maybe he could have the Secret Service bring women to him when he had a few minutes to spare. It would be wham, bam, thank you, ma’am! Both men chuckled. Hassan made a mental note to send a special feminine gift to Jason’s hotel that night if their conversation proved fruitful.

  “After all, isn’t that what the Secret Service is for?” Hassan quipped and laughed heartily, stating that if he were to do that when he returned home, he’d probably have to marry all of them, since adultery is not tolerated in Islam.

  Hassan noticed that Jason checked his watch as they finished the meal. “Do you have to run, my friend?” he asked.

  “Not immediately,” Jason said, “but I have a meeting with the party bigwigs about fundraising tonight. I can’t miss it. You know, Starks might be the nominee, but they can’t stand him. They think he’s a liability.” The party leadership was hesitant to open the purse strings because the senator didn’t follow the party line close enough for their liking and didn’t do as he was told.

  It didn’t help that he had defeated the party’s golden girl in the primaries to get the nomination. Jason went on to explain, he felt the reason the senator managed to get this far was because he understood the public’s inability to digest too much information on any one subject. The public had become confused by his former competitor’s message after she added or changed details in every speech she made.

  So the Senator, under Combs guidance, had kept his message simple. Change! He promised fundamental reforms from the politics of old that would change everyone’s future. It had worked like a charm—at least, so far—and it would most likely get Starks elected president, if only they had the money to keep the ads running.

  “That is a marvelous strategy, so simple, yet brilliant!” Hassan praised Jason for his political insight and knew he had the opening to garner influence over his old friend’s boss.

  “I know, I am a master of the political non-statement,” Jason boasted, tongue in cheek.

  “It is truly genius to promise them something without making it clear exactly what you’re promising. It is similar to Obama’s ‘Hope and Change’ campaign. He duped the masses into believing he was their hope for real change, without ever stating exactly what was going to change, it was brilliant!” Hassan continued to gush.

  “I think our message is clear. We’re hoping to be elected and we’re hoping to change the entire country over to serve our desires.” Jason chuckled loudly and then quickly looked around to see if anyone had overheard his comments.

  The waiter then cleared their plates, and as he walked away, Hassan leaned in close and asked, “Is the meeting this evening very crucial to winning the election?”

  “Unfortunately, it is very. Without more money for television and radio ads, we’re going to lose and lose big,” Combs sadly explained. “The senator is such a great man. He’s different from the other senators. They have no vision, no burning desire to lead the nation. If I fail to get him elected, it will be a great tragedy for the whole country. America needs a true visionary like Starks. He is the only hope for real change in this country, and after the Obama and Sanders failed presidencies, we are in desperate need of a real leader.”

  “What type of money are we talking?” Hassan asked as he looked about the nearly empty restaurant for anyone who might be listening or watching them. No one was.

  “Hey, buddy, I appreciate the thought, but even with your allowance, I don’t think you’ve got that kind of cash lying around.” Jason quickly dismissed what he thought was Hassan’s offer to personally donate to the campaign.

  “Alas, I am such a pauper. I can only put my hands on a few hundred million before the weekend,” Hassan stated, appearing a touch offended.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Combs started to apologize, but Hassan cut him off with a wave of his hand and a smile.

  “I was trying to be funny, my friend,” he said smiling. “But in all seriousness, how much is really needed?”

  “Half a billion,” Combs stated flatly.

  “I see. I believe this could be done if the senator’s goals for his administration are…how should I say this?” Hassan looked left trying recall the right verbiage, “Flexible, yet compatible with those of a group that our PR firm represents. Can you tell me his views on the Israeli/Palestinian situation and what approach he will take towards terrorism?”

  “He’s strongly in favor of the Palestinian’s having a homeland of their own,” Jason stated. “He believes that no lasting peace can be brokered for the region unless it includes a Palestinian homeland. Plus, he believes that the Israelis are the cause of most of the problems in the Middle East. He often talks about the Israelis needing a lesson in humility and compromise.

  “On the subject of oil, the senator is unwilling to open up Alaska’s North Slope or our coastlines to exploration. He feels that the North Slope is a pristine wilderness and should stay that way for future generations to enjoy. He also feels that off-shore drilling of the type and scope that his opponent is pushing for is dangerous and will ruin our fishing industry, not to mention the natural beauty of our coastlines. He feels coal could help lessen our dependence on oil, but that it must be handled properly, which will require more research into ways of developing cleaner methods of burning coal. He’s steadfast against nuclear. He feels that the spent fuel rods we’ve already produced are a ticking time bomb waiting to go off and that there are no realistic safeguards in place to ensure they are disposed of properly,” Combs explained, avoiding the terrorism issue altogether.

  “What of Afghanistan and Iran?” Hassan asked as he glanced around the restaurant once more.

  “He is strongly in favor of quickly closing down the war in Afghanistan. He wants to remove our troops and have the Afghans take over their own security duties. As far as Iran is concerned, he is very concerned that the UN allowed them to build a bomb.
He believes that they have to be stopped from deploying missiles capable of reaching Tel Aviv or Riyadh. He feels they have to be taken seriously because their threats aren’t just against Iraq and Israel, but against other countries in the region, such as your homeland. Does he sound like your kind of guy?” Combs asked hopefully.

  “Yes, indeed, but what about terrorism?” Hassan pressed the issue.

  Combs leaned in close and whispered his reply. “He’s of the opinion that terrorism needs to be handled as a law enforcement issue and not a war issue. The people who are attacking the West aren’t aligned with any nation, and to attack a nation in retaliation for those attacks is foolish and unwarranted.”

  “I see, but why whisper?” Hassan asked in whisper of his own.

  “He hasn’t told anyone his opinion and he wants to limit any debate before the election,” Combs explained.

  “If only I could be sure that he wouldn’t change his mind after taking office. We both know how Washington is. Many a good man has switched alliances because it was politically expedient. The men I represent will want guarantees that he will remain faithful to these beliefs. After all, we are talking about half a billion dollars now and next election maybe a billion more, plus the funds needed to help twist the arms of Congress to ensure his legacy.” Combs’ face lit up with Hassan’s positive feedback.

  “I’ll be right next to the man. I can and will help guide him. Now, that doesn’t mean he won’t make up his own mind, but he’ll be aware of polling data which can be made to say anything, and I will use that and other tactics to keep him on track,” Combs confided, sounding as pompous and self-assured as the senator himself.