by Peter Parkin
Sandy scoffed. “Vito, you’re the Mob. And you want a candidate who has honesty and integrity? Are you fucking with me?”
Vito cracked every knuckle of his massive hands, the noise resonating menacingly around the room.
“No, if I was fucking with you, you’d know it. I like you, Sandy. And I hurt over what happened to your family. We want honest politicians, because, quite frankly, with the power elected officials have, we don’t need the competition. And, as you know full well, family values come first and foremost with Italians. So, please, don’t insult me. We may be a paradox, but we’re an important part of the fabric of America, like it or not.”
Sandy shook his head. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. You’ve been a big help to me in all of this, as well as saving my life. I consider you a friend, although we are strange bedfellows.”
“I understand. We in the Cosa Nostra do have an image problem, which is our own fault. One day we’ll be able to put that behind us.”
Judy finally found her voice again. “Sandy, what are you going to do? It sounds like time is of the essence with the primaries going on right now.”
Sandy nodded and turned his attention once again to Vito. “How the hell would this thing be financed?”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“How could you do that? There are campaign laws, and you said you’d have to maintain a low profile.”
“Again, we use cut-outs. No one would know the money came from us. You’d be the best financed candidate in the race. We’d set up a Super-Pac as well, which would act as an arms-length campaign machine. All the campaign finance laws would be observed, without any possibility of being caught in a violation. We would make certain of that, and, trust me, we’re good at this.”
Sandy rubbed his chin, feeling overwhelmed by all that he’d heard.
Vito pressed. “You want revenge. This is the best way to get it. And you want to do the right thing for your country. You’re a patriot, you know that. Stopping Lincoln Berwick will be a triumph that you’ll always be able to look in the mirror and be proud of.”
“I don’t think it’s enough, after all that I know now.”
“What do you mean?”
Sandy rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and lowered his voice to a near whisper. Vito leaned in closer as he spoke. “The two people who engineered the terrorist attack that killed my family and hundreds of others, need to die. Meagan Whitfield and Bob Stone. I intended to kill them myself. That’s been driving me. I haven’t even shared that with my friends here, but I need that resolution. For Sarah, Liam and Whitney. And for myself.”
Judy gasped.
“I’m sorry, Judy.”
Vito reached over and put his hand on Sandy’s shoulder. “My best advice to you is not to give it another thought, Sandy. Your ultimate revenge will be victory at the polls. Don’t let this consume you. It’s not healthy. Trust me. I know more of such things than you do.”
Sandy felt a sudden surge of adrenaline through his veins. And a fire in his gut that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. “Forever” being before the slaughter of his wonderful family.
“I must be crazy. But, watching that lunatic get elected president would drive me even crazier. It’s strange, but, I don’t want Linc to die. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because we once had a history together, or maybe it’s that stupid Honor Code that might still be drummed into me. I just want him stopped. He can’t become our president.”
All of a sudden, Sandy slammed his fist down on the coffee table, so hard that the cups rattled and the pot teetered. He was surprised at how persuasive Vito had been, which meant that maybe he was primed and ready anyway, and just needed a shove in the right direction.
“Okay, let’s do it. I’m in. As Judy says, time is of the essence, and no one has ever accused me of being indecisive or a procrastinator. Put the wheels in motion, Vito. I trust you.”
43
As if there’d been a flip of a switch, the room snapped out of its sombre mood and came alive with a cacophony of cheers. Sandy felt the excitement, and it felt darn good. Suddenly it was real. He’d made a decision, and he knew, at least in his own mind, there was no going back now.
Judy ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, while Bill, Lloyd, and Vito fist-bumped. She whispered in his ear, “I’m so proud of you. It’s going to be exciting. You were always meant for greatness.”
Sandy pouted. “Hey, I was already kinda great, wasn’t I?”
Judy gushed, giggling like a teenager, “Of course! But, now you’re going to change the world!”
Sandy kissed her gently on the cheek. “Judy, I’m not really doing this to change the world. My motivation is probably the wrong one. I’m only doing this to stop one man.”
“Sure you are. But, don’t you think that will change everything if you can pull it off? Can you imagine what kind of a planet this would be with Linc as the leader of the free world?”
“Well, when you put it that way—”
“Yes, dear Sandy, I’d say your motivation is probably as good as it gets. So, stop thinking that way—right now. You’re doing a great thing, and you should be proud.” Judy giggled again. “And, can you imagine the look on Linc’s face when you announce that you’re running?”
Vito had resumed his seat in the corner armchair as he calmly watched the four friends celebrate. After a few minutes of banter and laughter, he quickly brought them back to reality.
“Okay, folks, there are a few things we have to do. First, I need to listen to that recording and you can fill in the blanks for me as to what happened that night in the van. As well, I’ll take the recording off your hands, Judy, and keep it safe until such time as we decide to release it to the public.”
“I’ll be glad to get rid of it, Vito. It makes me nervous.”
“I can imagine. Secondly, I’ll make some phone calls and get your campaign organization started, Sandy. You’ll need a campaign manager, first and foremost. There are some power brokers out there who will swing things into place quickly for you, including the tools needed to finance the campaign. As I said, the money will flow quite willingly once you’ve announced, but we’ll make sure from our end that sufficient funds are always there regardless of fund-raising. Again, we’ll use cut-outs to guarantee none of the money can be traced to the Cosa Nostra.”
Sandy shuddered. “Okay, lots to do. Be careful on the money front. No violations.”
“No worries. You need to pick a time and place to announce your candidacy. It may be too late now for you to get your name on the ballots in the remaining primaries, but that’s not really a concern. The delegate count is so fragmented amongst all the Democrat candidates, that there will be no clear winner by the time the July convention rolls around. You’ll be well known and favored by then, and, if all goes well, acclaimed at the convention over all of the others.”
“Okay. I’ll need some serious momentum between now and then.”
“Yes, you will. I’m sure you’ll be up to the task, Sandy. It will all go to plan.”
“I like your confidence, Vito.”
Vito nodded. “After you announce your candidacy, your house will be hounded by reporters, day and night. You’ll be on the road doing speeches most of the next couple of months anyway, so it won’t bother you too much—but it might drive your neighbors crazy. Before you make that announcement, though, there’s something you have to get out of your house.”
Sandy frowned. “What’s that?”
“That PEP weapon. You’ve broken every law imaginable by having that top-secret prototype in your home. You know that. You’ve taken out classified secrets accumulated during your work with the Pentagon and cloned the damn thing in your basement. And now you’ve used it to kill two people. That can’t be traced to you, as far as we know, but if that weapon is discovered, yo
u’ll be in a heap of trouble. Once the media start stalking your block, you’ll have lost your chance to get it out to a safe place. Any movement in and out of the house will be captured on film. And, if you do succeed in landing the Democratic nomination, the Secret Service will be all over you, including every inch of your house.”
Sandy massaged his forehead with his fingers, feeling a headache coming on.
“You’re right, Vito. Got me thinking now.”
“I’ll take it off your hands for you. I’m your best bet. I’m sure your friends don’t want to babysit it for you, and we wouldn’t want to take the chance of them being caught with it.”
Sandy stood and began pacing the room. “No offense, Vito, but handing over a top-secret weapon prototype to the Cosa Nostra doesn’t exactly give me a comfy feeling.”
“I understand. But, I have several safe places for it to be kept under lock and key. In fact, I have vaults. That’s where it should be and probably remain forever. You can’t take the chance of being caught with it, and, maybe because I’m the Cosa Nostra, I’m your most secure choice—ironic as that sounds.”
Bill jumped in. “He’s right, Sandy. You have to get it out of there.”
Sandy continued pacing. “I don’t know…”
The tone of Vito’s voice changed—slightly lower, and firmer.
“Let me gently remind you, Sandy, that you never did fulfill your promise to me after I set up that fake identity for your visit to Triple-L. You pledged to give me a demonstration of that weapon. I’m true to my word—my word is my bond. You need to be true to yours. I still want that demonstration, just for my own amusement and curiosity, but now I’m offering to also bail you out of a jam. I’ll keep it safe and sound to make sure you don’t go to prison for the rest of your life.” Vito paused, fixing Sandy with a penetrating look.
“And, a few minutes ago, you did say that you trusted me. Were you being honest, or just patronizing me? I don’t like being patronized, Sandy.”
Sandy stared into Vito’s dark eyes for several long seconds.
For the first time, he was starting to understand what it meant to be friends with the Mob. Vito had never pressured him before now. This was a first. It was gentle pressure, but there was no mistaking the tone or message in his words. This was how the Cosa Nostra did business. But, Vito did have a valid point that Sandy couldn’t deny. He’d broken the law—probably several laws. Serious infractions. He would indeed go to prison if it was discovered that he’d used military secrets to build his own prototype.
He had very few options as to where to stash the damn thing, but it seemed at the moment that Vito’s efficient enterprise was indeed his best one.
“Okay, Vito. I’m going to trust you on this as well.”
*****
Bill joined Sandy on the trip back to Boston. Vito followed behind in his stretch limousine, driven by faithful chauffeur and jack of all trades, Nunzio.
Nunzio was a nice guy, kinda quiet, very big, menacing to look at, and probably a cold-blooded killer if truth be told.
They figured that the limousine provided more than enough space to haul away the PEP.
The car was as silent as a library for most of the drive. Sandy was thinking hard about what he had just committed to. His life would never be the same now. But, it had already changed drastically more than two years ago. With the loss of his family it was as if his very life itself had also lost its purpose.
Now, although the prospect of running for president, and being president, was scary, he finally felt as if some purpose had returned. He would get his revenge, but in a way that Sarah and his kids would have been proud of him for.
His purpose in life had now become a mission of stopping a dangerous man from becoming president by stealing that crown right out from under his nose. Just like the competitions he and Linc used to have back at West Point, but this time the competition actually had real life consequences.
Bill broke the silence. “Are you excited?”
“Overwhelmed is probably the right word right now, Bill. But, I feel the fire in the belly, so I guess that’s a good thing.”
“It is. Lloyd and I want to join your campaign. We’ll both take leaves of absence from our jobs and be there for you. We all share the same mission. To breathe easy again, and stop a lunatic.
“I think that once you announce, and Vito releases that recording, our safety will be guaranteed. And, if you can beat that prick, the justice will be sweet.” Bill paused. “But then you’ll be president. I hope that after inauguration you’ll still talk to us.”
“Well, for you,” Sandy said, floating a sideways glance at his friend, “how does secretary of the treasury sound? You’re one of the most successful investment bankers on the planet, so that would be right up your alley.”
Bill laughed. “I’ll consider it, although it would be one hell of a drop in salary. But, some things are just worth doing even when the money sucks.”
Sandy chuckled. “Yeah, it will be a big drop in salary for both of us. Being president doesn’t carry the paycheque that I’m used to either. As for Lloyd, well, I’m thinking that with his background at NASA, secretary of education would be perfect for him.”
“I think he’d take it.”
Sandy pulled into his driveway, and Vito’s car slid in right behind him.
Once inside the house, they went straight into the basement. The most important task that awaited them was dealing with the item standing in the corner of death, alone and forlorn, its ominous red light flashing the silent message that it was eager and ready for new orders.
Sandy led them over to the PEP machine. Bill and Vito just stared at it in awe.
“This is it?” Vito asked. “This is the thing that vaporized those thugs?”
“Yep, this is it. Doesn’t look all that impressive, does it?”
Sandy pulled a plastic garbage can up against one of the basement walls, and aimed the weapon at it.
“Watch this.”
He described the operation of the machine, pushed the activation button, and worked the remote. Within seconds the garbage can disappeared silently into a tiny pile of dust.
Vito muttered under his breath, “Sweet Jesus.”
“Okay, Vito, now that you’ve had your demonstration, let’s get it bundled up and loaded into the limo. I’ve fulfilled my promise to you. Please, though, promise me that you’ll keep it safe and secret.”
Vito made the sign of the cross. “You have my word.”
An hour later, after the machine had been packaged up and stashed away on the rear couch of the stretch, the three of them were back in the house drinking coffee.
Faithful soldier, Nunzio, stayed outside and kept watch over the precious cargo.
“So, that machine simply pummelled those two guys into a pile of dust?”
“Vito, that weapon is ground-breaking. It’s scary to think of how it might be used on battlefields, or by terrorists if they managed to get their hands on it. There’s no limit these days to what science can accomplish.”
“Astonishing. And, you said you chased their car away afterwards?”
“Yeah. I went outside with one of their guns, and the driver panicked.”
Bill glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s the gun? Do you still have it?”
Sandy got up and walked over to his broom closet. “Believe it or not, I shoved it in here with all the cleaning stuff.”
He handed the gun to Bill. “Here it is. I knocked it out of one of the guy’s hands when they were stalking me in the kitchen.”
Bill examined it, paying particular attention to the barrel. “Sandy, this is an AR-15, but this gun couldn’t have given you even a scratch. It’s equipped to fire blanks.”
He pointed to the mouth of the barrel. “I’m kind of a gun hobbyist. See this red thing? This is a BFA
or Blank Firing Adaptor. Military grade BFAs are red or orange, civilian are yellow. They use these for training new recruits so no one blows their balls off. This gun was firing blanks. Its barrel was adapted.”
Sandy took the weapon from Bill and studied the barrel. “I never noticed this red thing.”
He passed it over to Vito. “I’m guessing you know about this stuff. Is Bill right?”
Vito looked at it and nodded. “Yep, he’s right. They couldn’t have hurt you with this. And it’s safe to assume the other guy’s gun—that you vaporized—was equipped the same way.”
Sandy sat down hard, and clasped his hands behind his head. “So, they were just trying to scare me.”
“Looks that way.”
“But…why? What was the point? If these guys were sent by Linc’s campaign, why wouldn’t they just kill me?”
Vito winced. “We’ll never know now.”
44
“…and, I’m certain that some of you are looking at me, standing at this podium, wondering to yourselves what makes this man think he is qualified to be president. Admittedly, ever since I decided to run, I look at that same man in the mirror every morning while shaving, and wonder the same thing.
“And every morning, I arrive at the only conclusion that makes any sense to me. Plain and simple, I know that I’ll be a really good president, one who will respect the rights of all Americans; be they liberal or conservative, black or white, red or yellow, legacy citizens or new arrivals.”
Sandy stopped speaking as the audience of several thousand rose to their feet and applauded. He was commanding the stage in the massive auditorium at the Boston Convention Center and had been speaking for about forty-five minutes.
He’d already unofficially announced his candidacy a couple of weeks ago on a cable news talk show. Tonight, was the official announcement.