Lethal Politics

by Bob Blink

  As she looked at it, she realized there was something subtly different about the icon. She'd played the game for hundreds of hours and had seen the icon in passing thousands of times, but her mind told her this one wasn't the same as she remembered. She almost changed her mind and went for her own phone to compare when something else caught her attention. There was no name under the icon, and it was just enough taller than the others around it to mask the fact letters were missing. What sort of looked like letters at a casual glance was just a clever extension of the icon itself. She was certain the one on her phone had a normal App name. She couldn't recall if she'd ever seen an App without the name, and decided maybe she had.

  Now her curiosity was fully engaged, and glancing guiltily at the bathroom door where the shower was still going full blast, she nervously touched a finger to the icon. For a moment it didn't seem like anything was going to happen, and then the screen blanked, followed by a page of lettering and warnings that she'd never encountered before. This wasn't the game she'd played.

  Around the edge of the screen, a thin red border pulsed slowly, and then suddenly turned green and steady while the words "Secure encrypted connection established" appeared in the center of the screen.

  What the hell? she thought.

  There was no ringing or sound, but a pulsing blue dot at the bottom of the screen seemed to indicate that a call connection might be in work. Suddenly the blue ball stopped pulsing, and a oddly distorted voice that she could tell had been electronically altered to defeat any kind of voice recognition came out of the speaker.

  "I wasn't expecting to hear from you," the voice said. "Isn't it a bit late back that way?"

  Cindy didn't know what to say. She'd hang up, but she wasn't certain how, and pressing the home button seemed to have no effect.

  "Hey, Is this you? Is everything alright?" the oddly robotic voice asked.

  Shit, shit, shit! What did she do now? All she needed was for Mark to come into the room while she was holding his phone which was connected to some kind of private network. She realized that while the initial greeting had been casual and friendly as if the person on the other end knew it had to be Mark, no names were used at any point, even when the person tried to verify the called was whom he'd expected. Something in the back of her mind told her this couldn't be good. She'd seen enough of the stuff around the President to know that communications were always crisp, the speakers easily identified, and extra effort made so that everyone on the net knew exactly whom they were talking to. That suggested that this wasn't something official that was somehow tied to his role as President. If not that, and given the concern she heard in the voice at the other end, this almost had to be something covert that no one was supposed to know about. No one including her, maybe especially not her. She had really messed up this time.

  While her mind frantically worked to come up some kind of action she could take, the blue dot disappeared and an audible click was heard from the phone. Whoever she had called had terminated the connection. That was good, but she wasn't out of the woods just yet. The red band around the perimeter was flashing again, and she couldn't find anything that would turn the damn thing off. After pushing everything she could find with no results, she turned the phone off, and initiated a reboot. She held her breath, fearful that it would come back on with the damned mysterious App still active and the flashing band mocking her. Her fears were unfounded, and once the phone had finished what seemed like an impossibly long boot-up, it returned to the basic icon screen just as she'd found it.

  She heaved a sigh of relief, and looking to see that nothing remained to reveal her transgression, she quickly placed the phone back where she'd found it and pretended to be sleeping. When the President returned he glanced her way, grunted, and crawled into bed and proceeded to drop off himself.

  Relieved, Cindy was glad they hadn't had to talk. She was certain her voice would give her away, and could hardly wait until morning when the President would be getting up early and starting his busy day. She had plans of her own that would take her away from the White House, which would hopefully enable her to get her thoughts in order.

  "Not the best time to talk," the President said when he'd stepped into a corner he knew was secure and responded to Earl's unplanned call.

  "Just listen, and we can talk later," Earl said. "Unless you were drunk and accidentally triggered a call to me last night, someone was playing with your phone and somehow triggered the special App. I don't know who as they never spoke, but we need to discuss what this means."

  "Cindy!" Mark said recalling where his phone had been and when it had been available out of his sight. He had been so frustrated after their failed attempts the night before he'd neglected to take it with him into the bathroom while he showered.

  "I'll call," he said, and terminated the current phone call. Visibly upset, he walked over to the Secret Service team on duty and explained he wanted to return to his quarters for a few minutes to get some of his stomach medicine before the next meeting. Once alone inside his quarters, he quickly re-established the connection to his Friend.

  "My fault," he said apologetically. "I left the phone out when I took a shower last night."

  "You still haven't put a password on the damn thing, have you?" Earl chastised, knowing his friend's habits.

  "I want to be able to respond quickly before anyone notices if your call, and you know how screwed up I get with passwords."

  "Well, this potentially screws things up because you have an unprotected phone," Earl swore. "What if this bimbo talks to someone? Is she the type that might?"

  "Yeah maybe. Probably not around here, but then she is a very inquisitive woman, and come to think of it she might think about asking one of the agents she knows what kind of channel that might be."

  "They would know right off what it is and that you aren't supposed to have something like that on your phone. We need to do something about her. This could undo everything we worked so hard for. The election is right around the corner, but the wrong look into things could blow it all up."

  "You mean . . ."

  "That's exactly what I mean," Earl replied.

  "Who?"

  "I can get our foreigner to handle it," Earl said. "He's best for this kind of thing."

  Damn it, Mark thought. He was tiring of the woman, but he didn't want this. Then he decided there was too much at stake. Earl was right.

  "Okay," Mark agreed. "Get it going. Probably should be as soon as possible. Who knows when she might say something."

  "Keep an eye on her, but don't let her know you are aware of what happened. That would bring it all to a head, and we don't want that to happen in the White House. We want to solve this quietly somewhere else."

  "Got it," Mark said disappointed with himself that he'd created such a situation.

  That evening was about as stressful as Cindy could envision. The President showed no sign that he was aware what had happened, which surprised her since she figured he would have gotten a call from whoever it was on the other end. Apparently that hadn't happened and she might have dodged a nasty situation. She'd come back to the White House anticipating a major blowout argument, and nothing had happened.

  That being said, she had a creepy feeling that Mark really did know, and was keeping the whole thing bottled up for reasons of his own. She thought it might come out once they climbed into bed, but he showed little interest in her or sex, indicating he had a long day with foreign dignitaries, and went directly to sleep. She'd had a story about her period beginning since she'd known there was no way she'd have been able to pull off a natural interest in sex tonight.

  The next morning he was almost ready to leave when she woke up, a bit groggy for some reason. After he'd left she showered, and hurried out of the White House, heading home. She wasn't scheduled to return until the weekend which gave her a little time on her own to settled down. Once settled into the security of her own place, she unexpectedly decided to call her mom. Maybe sh
e'd visit her in New York. It had been a while, and she could talk some of this over with her and maybe get a better idea what she needed to do.

  Chapter 22

  Las Vegas, NV

  Abe was more than a little hung over when the buzz of his cell phone woke him from a restless sleep. It took him several confused moments to realize it wasn't his regular phone, but the newest burner that Earl has handed him after the killing they had done in Los Angeles. He really hadn't expected to hear from the man again, so was very surprised when it showed Earl's number and not that of Jason or Bo, who would have been much more likely to have a reason to contact him.

  "Yeah?" he asked, somehow realizing even in his inebriated condition that names weren't a good idea, despite the use of throwaway cell phones.

  Apparently Earl recognized his voice, or simply accepted that he'd reached the right person.

  "I have some more work for you on an urgent basis," Earl said.

  That surprised Abe, who believed they'd pretty much killed everyone related to the matter the last time out.

  "The same kind of priority target?" he asked, curious who was in the way now.

  "Yes and no. We are talking about the President's girlfriend, but you will be able to approach her in a low risk environment. I was thinking about a home invasion scenario."

  "Any special frills or requirements?" Abe asked, thinking about what a looker she was. He'd seen pictures of her on the television several times of late.

  "No. Just that she gets dead soon."

  "Where is she?"

  In D.C., probably at her apartment."

  "I'm in Vegas. I can get to D.C. by tonight, so if this is as straight-forward as you say, I can probably get it done before the day is out, or in the morning at the latest. No security with her?"

  "No. Girlfriends don't get Secret Service protection."

  "How much?" he asked, wondering what it was worth to Earl to get this done. The way it was being approached triggered a little suspicion in the back of his mind that the President wasn't as innocent of involvement in what they had been doing as Earl had always implied.

  "A hundred K," Earl said. "This one is quick, and should be easy for you. "No need to make it look other than a killing."

  "Two," Abe countered, guessing that Earl was desperate for quick action, and as a partial test of his suspicion who this was really for. Also, as Lady Luck hadn't been favoring him of late, he could use the funds. Most of what he'd gotten for the earlier job had already been lost to the casinos.

  "Two then," Earl agreed, clearly not wanting to waste effort bargaining and making Abe wish he'd demanded more, but then if his theory was correct he could probably shake down the man for additional funds at a later date.

  "I'll get right on it," Abe said. "Text me the dame's address while I get cleaned up and make reservations."

  Abe hung up, and walked over to the room phone, connecting to the Las Vegas airport. He chose a flight for two hours from now which he paid for using the credit cards they'd been given for the last job. Earl had told them to cut them up and toss them, but Abe had suspected that Earl wouldn't get the fake business closed down all that quickly, and even then the cards couldn't be closed out until all outstanding charges had been cleared. He also knew that Earl never checked the specifics, so when his own funds started running low, he'd hit upon the idea of using the card for his hotel and rental car until it shutdown on him. He could see no reason not to use it for his flight. After all, Earl had told them the Feds had shut down any investigation on the Craig woman's death, so no one would be looking for the card anywhere.

  He considered what he would take, and finally settled on next to nothing. He didn't want to deal with luggage, and even an overnight bag or carry-on luggage would be a nuisance. He could buy disposal items for hygiene, and if his clothing needed cleaning, any decent hotel would be able to handle that overnight while he slept.

  He wouldn't check out of his expensive room here at Ceasar's Palace. He wasn't paying for it anyway, and by keeping it active he could be certain his possessions were safe, and he had a bit of an alibi of sorts for where he was at the time of his planned assault. He left his knife and the heavy revolver he favored in the room safe, and headed out the door. Downstairs he walked out the side door and grabbed a taxi to the airport, leaving his rental car in the slot in the parking structure.

  The lack of weapons wouldn't be a problem when he got to D.C. He could probably complete the job with his bare hands, but he didn't like working that way. Any major U.S. city provided little difficulty in locating an unregistered weapon for anyone with the proper street smarts and a bit of cash. That was the first item on his checklist to be completed after he landed.

  In the end, he acquired an early model Glock 21, worn and scratched but in excellent working condition, along with two thirteen round magazines loaded with Federal Hydra-Shok ammunition. His exchange didn't start so smooth, with the street vendor attempting to pawn off an aging, badly worn, and broken Glock 17 that wouldn't have fired had he tried. After demonstrating his displeasure, and his knowledge of the product he was seeking, his status was upgraded, and he was offered a variety of products, all in working condition. He'd chosen the Glock from a selection of semi-automatics and a few wheel guns, paying a cool thousand for the privilege, but he wasn't in the mood to haggle and he was spending Earl's money.

  Armed, and with no need to unload any possessions, he took a taxi to the general area of the woman's rented house, walking the last couple of blocks to find a moderately appealing home with simple commercial building-style locks. He performed his usual magic on the locks and was inside in a minute.

  It didn't take long to decide no one was home, and it was unlikely they would be returning tonight, if any time soon. An assortment of clothes were flung across the bed, suggestive of someone packing, so he checked the recent numbers called on the apartment phone, discovering a call to a New York City number and another to the airport. In the drawer under the phone was an address book which soon yielded up the number that had been called, and the New York address that was associated with it.

  "She ran home to mom," Abe muttered softly to himself.

  He returned to the kitchen area, called the same airline, and booked his own flight to New York on the next plane out. Then he checked to be certain he'd left nothing of his visit, closed the door behind him, and headed out to the street where he could catch a cab. The Glock and magazines went into the first storm drain he passed, unfortunate, but they would be replaced once he arrived in the Big Apple. Two hours later he was airborne.

  It was getting late when he arrived in New York, so he sought out a mid-range hotel and acquired a room. He didn't bother to go up to his room, but headed out to replace his discarded weapon, this time ending up with a S&W M&P, but still in .45 ACP. He liked the big-bore handguns best. Once he was armed, he set off and scouted the mother's house where his target would be staying. Once he was satisfied how he would approach his break-in, he returned to a local mall and had dinner.

  At 11:30 that night he was back, across the street from the mother's home. Verifying that the neighborhood was dark, he smoothly and silently slipped across the street, circled around to the back of the house and picked the lock in order to gain entry. He wanted to be silent on his break-in, but planned to break the door as he left to better simulate a home invasion style robbery.

  Once inside he listened for movement and scanned the layout. It was a simple home, much less impressive than the one the daughter lived in. There were two bedrooms at the end of a hall off the living room. The one on the left was where the mother slept, mouth open and totally lost to the world. He clubbed her senseless, and walked across the hall to where the daughter slept. It was easy to recognize her as the President's girlfriend.

  Putting his hand over Cindy's mouth and the barrel of the gun a few inches from her closed eyes, he shook her awake. Cindy jumped with a start as she returned to consciousness, trying to call out, but fin
ding her cries muffled by Abe's massive paw.

  Dragging her out of bed, he pulled her into the living room as she squirmed and cried. He told her he wanted all the cash in the house, any jewels and other small items of value. She protested, but a swipe with the barrel of the pistol changed her tune, and over the next ten minutes they looted several clever hiding spots throughout the house. The items weren't important, but the impression of what happened here was.

  Abe would have liked to tie her up and spend a little time horizontal with her, but that also wouldn't fit the nature of the supposed crime, and he wasn't sure how Earl would react to such an action, so he simply stood her up in the living room and shot her twice in the face. Job completed. He pushed her away and let her fall as he headed back to check on the mother, who was still out, so he left her without further harm and made his way out of the house, cosmetically damaging the lock as he left.

  The two shots hadn't earned any attention, and within a block he'd tossed the gun into a trash receptacle as he made his way back to the hotel, where he called in a flight back to Vegas in the morning before crawling between the sheets. By dinnertime the next day, he was back at the tables, a big winner for once, having already called and informed Earl of his success.

  Chapter 23

  Washington, DC

  The Vice President stepped out of the government limo, surrounded by her ever-present contingent of Secret Service agents and headed toward the heavy doors that marked the entrance to the White House. While she was effectively no longer involved in the workings of the government, she was also still officially the Vice President and so received the protection due her position. While most of those around her were intimately involved in the upcoming election, she could hardly wait for the fateful day to pass. It wouldn't really affect her, because she would no longer retain her position whichever party was successful, and when January finally came around she would be able to walk away from all of her various offices once and for all.