Mr. Prime Minister

by Jessica Ashe

  “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away for long,” Alec says with a grin. He seems to be pleased to see me, and not at all annoyed by the interruption. Oh God, does he expect me to join in? Threesomes really aren’t my thing, although it’s been so long….

  “It’s midnight and you sound like you’re trying to bring the building down,” I yell. “How much longer do you plan to be at it?”

  “I could probably go for another hour.”

  “Another hour,” I exclaim. “That’s ridiculous. You do realize women don’t actually want sex to last that long, right?”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s great that you don’t finish after thirty seconds, but give the poor woman a break.”

  Alec smiles again and shakes his head. “Maybe you should come in.”

  The fact that I’m tempted to share this man with another woman goes a long way to summing up how fucking desperate I am right now. Alec can easily handle two women at once, and could probably satisfy me more than men who give me their undivided attention.

  “I’m not going to come in,” I reply, a touch reluctantly. “Just finish up whatever you’re doing and go to sleep.”

  “Come in,” Alec insists.

  This time, there’s something in his eyes that tells me I should do as he says. I don’t argue, and nervously step into his apartment. It’s dimly lit, with just a tiny lamp in the corner illuminating the entire room. His layout is the same as mine, except his apartment is completely empty. Other than a large backpack and a few clothes hung up over heaters, it would be easy to think the apartment was abandoned. He has zero furniture in the living room, and even the kitchen looks untouched. Hardly the setting for a romantic date.

  “Go in the bedroom,” Alec commands.

  For some reason, I do what he says and nervously push open the bedroom door. There’s no one there. In fact, other than a mattress lying on the floor, there’s nothing in the bedroom at all.

  “Where is your… everything?” I ask.

  “I don’t have many possessions. I like to be able to leave quickly without worrying about what I’m leaving behind.”

  “What are you? A fugitive?”

  I’m joking, but when Alec replies “something like that,” I know he’s serious.

  “What were you doing in here?” I ask. “It sounded like the building was going to collapse.”

  “What did you think I was doing?”

  “I thought you were… you know.”

  “Fucking someone?”

  “Well, yes. Don’t give me that look,” I add, as he raises an eyebrow. “You made it quite clear that you like to spend your evenings engaged in enthusiastic activities.”

  “It’s good to know that your imagination went straight to thinking of me fucking other women. Going through a dry spell, are we?”

  “I’m not answering that.”

  “You just did. Anyway, I was exercising. I like to exercise in the evening; press ups, jumping jacks, skipping. That kind of thing.”

  “Great, so I can expect you to keep me awake every night, can I?”

  “If you like,” he says, and smiles again, flashing a surprisingly perfect set of teeth. That’s been bugging me, actually. I couldn’t put my finger on it before, but his teeth are almost too nice. The rest of Alec looks like he’s been through hard times. Even though I’m trying not to look, I can see scars on his chest and face, and his nose has clearly been broken before. But his teeth look good as new.

  “I’m going back to bed. Alone. To sleep. Please keep the noise down.”

  “Whatever you say, sweet cheeks.”

  I don’t look back, as I walk out of his apartment and back down to mine. Suddenly all the random crap in my apartment looks comforting, a reminder that I have things I care about. I could never live like Alec. I know it’s materialistic, but I like things. My possessions are a part of who I am. If I brought them with me from my parents’ house then it means they’re important for one reason or another.

  Alec has nothing. Who chooses to live like that?

  Fugitives.

  I’m being stupid. I’m thinking like a cop, even though I’ve only been one for a year. I’ve never even made a basic arrest by myself, and I’m already dreaming of handcuffing a big fugitive and dragging him down to the station. Not that I could ever arrest a man like Alec—he must be twice the size of me. The only way I’d get to put handcuffs on him is if he let me. Something tells me he might be up for that.

  Something else tells me that once I’ve handcuffed him I might not want to drag him down to the police station.

  Chapter Three

  Piper

  The staff kitchen is eerily quiet.

  Usually, first thing in the morning, this place is jammed full of cops shuffling around in a zombie-like fashion as they try to get a mug full of coffee to kickstart their day. Never more so than on a Monday morning.

  I never used to bother with coffee. I had some once in a coffee shop just to keep warm on a cold winter’s day, but then I couldn’t sleep until four in the morning. I made it through college and all my exams without touching a drop.

  I was addicted by the end of my first week of police training. Now, my day doesn’t start until the first drop of hot caffeinated pleasure touches my lips. Everything before the coffee is a blur. I’ve no idea how I make it to work in the mornings. I vaguely remember a bus, but I’m in a trance the whole way.

  Coffee helps fix the problem, but what I really need is more sleep. Even after Alec stopped making noise last night, I still couldn’t drift off until around two o’clock in the morning. In the end, I had to relieve some stress. Even that didn’t work as well as it usually does.

  I grab one of the few remaining mugs from the cupboard. Am I late? My shift doesn’t start until nine in the morning, and it’s only quarter-to now. Where the hell is everyone?

  The coffee is still hot, but not so hot I can’t drink it. I get a few sips in before I reach my desk and the effect is immediate. My brain starts functioning and I notice the jackets hanging over empty chairs. Everyone’s already at work, but where are they? And why are they so early?

  Then I remember the email from last week.

  Oh shit, I’m missing a meeting.

  I run over to the meeting room as fast as I can while carrying my coffee and try to slip in unnoticed. It doesn’t work. My boss, Arlene, is standing at the front talking and she meets my eye as I walk in. I’ve been a police officer for nearly an entire year, but until the next batch arrives, I’m still considered a rookie. Rookies shouldn’t be late to meetings. All the others from my class are at the front, taking notes and looking eager. Traitors.

  Fortunately, Arlene likes me—at least for the time being—so she carries on talking and slips in a neat little summary so that I can catch up. Arlene is the only woman with any authority around here, and my batch of recruits was a bit of a sausage fest. She quickly latched on to me as her only hope of evening up the gender imbalance at the top. It’s only a matter of time before I disappoint her.

  “It should go without saying,” Arlene says authoritatively, “but you’ll need to put your political opinions to the side for this one. Senator Owen Robertson is a member of Congress and will be standing for reelection next year. I don’t care if you’re Republican, Democrat, Independent, or Jedi. These threats on his life are serious and I’ll be damned if he’s going to die on my watch.”

  I quietly breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever this is about, it’s way above my pay grade. Arlene thinks it’s important to morale to invite everyone to meetings, but clearly I don’t need to worry about this. Investigating death threats against a United States senator is a job for people who get paid far more than me. Come to think of it, it’s a job for the FBI, isn’t it? Or the Secret Service? Either way, it’s a federal issue, not one for the Chicago Police Department. This is weird.

  “I’ve been provided with a list of suspects,” Arlene continues. “There are also online aliases that
I want to identify. Until the election is over, I want to know where these people are at all times. If we can eliminate them from our inquiries, then great, but if not we need to know where they are and what they’re doing.”

  Arlene goes over a few of the main suspects and I do my best to look interested—or at least not look like I’m about to fall asleep. By the end of the twenty-minute meeting I’ve finished my entire mug of coffee and it hasn’t woken me up as much as I’d like. I now feel like I got five hours’ sleep instead of four. Hopefully, I at least look alive to my colleagues and boss.

  We’re just about to go back to our desks when a man bursts into the room closely followed by two desk sergeants. I recognize the face of the man who’s just joined us—it’s a face I’ve seen on posters and political shows. Senator Owen Robertson. He has the smarmy confidence of a career politician who is used to getting his own way. Within seconds of walking in, he’s standing at the front of the room like he owns the place.

  “Senator Robertson,” Arlene says surprised. “We weren’t expecting to see you today.”

  “Just thought I’d pop in and see how our city’s bravest men and women are dealing with this little mess.”

  “With all due respect, Senator, I’d say these death threats are more than a ‘little mess.’ They’re serious. You’ve made a lot of enemies.”

  “When you’ve been in politics as long as me, you can’t help but make enemies. I just need to know what you’re going to do about it.”

  “As I recommended over the phone,” Arlene says, “you should accept the help of the United States Secret Service. They’re far better equipped to deal with this than we are.”

  “Bullshit. The federal government wastes enough money as it is. I don’t want them sticking people on my ass twenty-four hours a day. I trust in the competence of the local police force, and the state of Illinois has the best police force in the union. I’m sure your officers are perfectly competent.”

  Arlene doesn’t like him. He’s saying all the right things, but I can tell from the look in her eyes that she thinks he’s an idiot. I don’t pay enough attention to politics to know what he’s like. I could have voted for him, for all I know.

  “We’re going to assign a small team of five people to look after your safety, sir,” Arlene says.

  “Five people,” the senator exclaims loudly.

  “I’m aware that may not be enough, but we don’t have the resources to—”

  “Five is way too many.”

  “Sir, with all due respect—”

  “I’m a busy man, and having that many people hanging off me will slow me down. Look, we both know these death threats will come to nothing. It’s just a load of angry men sending anonymous threats because that’s what people do these days. Just give me one officer and that will scare them off. No one’s going to attempt an assassination when I’m standing right next to a cop.”

  “Senator, with all—”

  “Detective, you can say ‘with all due respect’ as many times as you like, but you’re not showing me any respect right now and you’d better start doing so. One officer. That’s it.”

  Arlene nods, but the expression on her face is anything but consent. I swear I can hear her grinding her teeth from the back of the room.

  “I’ll assign my best officer,” Arlene says reluctantly.

  “Actually, I think I’ll choose. If I’m going to be with this person for every waking hour then I might as well pick who that is.”

  “I’ll introduce you to my detectives.”

  “No, not a detective. I just want a normal officer. Who are these eager young recruits?” he asks as he nods towards my fellow trainees at the front of the room.

  “The new intake,” Arlene replies.

  The senator looks them up and down and I’m now relieved to have joined the meeting late. His attention settles on the only other woman recruited with me. Vicki is a nice girl, but she’s so timid she makes me look confident and experienced. If anyone sees her standing next to the senator, they’re going to assume she’s his PA, even if she is in full uniform.

  “She’ll do,” the senator says.

  “She’s just a trainee,” Arlene protests. “You can’t—”

  “I strongly recommend you don’t finish that sentence, detective.”

  The tension is palpable as the senator stares down Arlene until she reluctantly turns and gestures towards Vicki. The poor girl looks terrified and is literally shaking as she introduces herself to the senator.

  The silence is brought to an abrupt end as someone’s cell phone chimes loudly with a message. Arlene shoots a glare in my direction, and so do a few other people. It wasn’t me—my phone’s always on silent.

  Then the chime rings again and I realize it is unmistakably coming from the inside pocket of my suit jacket.

  I quickly grab the phone, fumbling with all the buttons to put it on silent. In all the chaos of last night, I must have forgotten to mute it. Two messages pop up on my screen, short enough to read in the scramble.

  Hi gorgeous. Don’t be scared to come by the apartment again tonight.

  It’s Alec, by the way.

  Alec? How the hell did he get my number?

  No time to worry about that now. Most of the police department is staring in my direction and I suddenly feel as nervous as Vicki looks.

  “Who are you?” the senator shouts out.

  “Piper,” I reply quietly. “Piper Raley. I’m one of the new recruits.”

  “Hmm.” The senator looks at me, then at Vicki, and then finally back at me. “On second thought, I want you. Detective, have Miss Piper report to my office when she’s ready.”

  “Yes, sir,” Arlene says with a heavy sigh.

  Vicki looks giddy with relief as she goes back and takes her place with the rest of the new recruits. I’m speechless and I feel faint. What just happened?

  Arlene dismisses everyone, then asks me to stay behind. I get smiles of encouragement and looks of pity from the other officers and detectives as they file out of the room.

  I’m going to be a bodyguard. For a senator who sounds like a bit of a jackass. And people want to kill him.

  How the fuck did this happen?

  Chapter Four

  Alec

  I’m polishing my weapon again, and no, that’s not a euphemism.

  It takes all my willpower not to slide the weapon back into its case, and go do the job now. I don’t even need a sniper rifle really. I prefer killing people that way, but any gun will do. A shot from a distance makes my escape easier, I suppose. Assuming I want to escape.

  I don’t own a television, but I don’t need one. The guy next door is listening to his TV so loudly I can hear every word. He’s watching an action movie with Tom Cruise in it. It’s probably one of the Mission Impossible movies, although I haven’t heard the infamous theme tune yet. How many of those films are there now? I have a lot of movies to catch up on.

  Tom Cruise is taking a beating when my phone rings. Only one person has my number.

  “Shauna. What did you find out?”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Hello, Shauna,” I say reluctantly. Shauna is one for small talk and pleasantries. I am not. “What did you find out?”

  “You’re right. This guy is dirty with a capital D. It’s subtle if you don’t know what you’re looking for. I read the official Senate Appropriations Committee transcripts and found enough to back up what you told me.”

  I read the transcripts too. They tell the story of a politician who only cares about himself and does everything he can to maximize his money and power. However, the transcripts don’t prove that he’s responsible for what happened to me. Not one hundred percent. I need more before I pull the trigger.

  “What about the private stuff?” I ask. “What have you found out since you started working for him?”

  “I’ve seen stuff you wouldn’t believe. I don’t know how this man still has a career in politics. Let’s
just say none of the female interns last all that long.”

  “What about the Iraq op?” If he’s sexually assaulting the women in his office then I might be tempted to shoot his penis clean off, but I won’t kill him. It’s what happened to my friends and Shauna’s brother that will ensure his death sentence.

  “It’s like you expected. He convinced the Appropriations Committee to contract with a supplier who promised weapons at two thirds of the price the US government was currently paying. Surprise surprise, his personal emails show that he is friends with the owner of this other supplier. They’re not even subtle about it. It’s all just a game to them—you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. This friend of his also made such a large campaign donation that the next election is all but guaranteed.”

  “He’ll be dead before election day.”

  There’s a short pause on the other end before Shauna continues. “You’re still going ahead with it?”

  “You see any reason for me to change my mind?”

  “Other than the fact you’d be killing a United States senator? Some people frown on that kind of thing.”

  “You know what he’s like. Do you think he deserves to live?”

  “Definitely not. But I’m not sure he deserves to die either.”

  “Five men died, and they didn’t deserve to. They died because we had crappy weapons that didn’t work when we needed them to. Can you honestly tell me he didn’t know what he was doing?”

  “No,” Shauna agrees reluctantly. “He knew what he was doing. One of his interns prepared a memo which clearly stated the failure rate of the weapons produced by his friend’s company. The memo couldn’t have been more clear about the possible consequences for the lives of our soldiers.”

  “And he read the memo?”

  “Yep. He fired the guy who wrote it.”