Lethal Politics

by Bob Blink

  With a sigh of relief, he holstered his pistol, and headed deeper into the house.

  Chapter 44

  Washington, DC

  Sunday, 3 November 2024

  Eric Craig had come to Washington, DC several days earlier when he learned that the case had been broken open and that Earl Campbell, the supposed leader of the group responsible for his wife's death had been killed. He learned this from Karl Baxter privately and somewhat ahead of what was on the news. Hiring Karl Baxter had been a wise move. Not only had the man broken the case open, but he was reliable in terms of keeping him up to date regarding key developments, even if there were those who felt that certain data should be kept secret. Apparently, Karl, like Eric, believed he had a right to inside knowledge. They also appeared to have had the same belief as to who, ultimately, was really responsible for the death of his wife.

  Eric didn't have a role to play in Washington, but he wanted to be close to where matters were likely to come to a conclusion. Once in town he'd maintained a low profile. Even Karl Baxter wasn't aware he was in the city. He remained in his hotel, and worked on a computer program that he'd carried with him. The program was something that he often used in the creation of his novels. It allowed facts, conditions, and various stimuli to be manipulated to consider the likely impacts on a character's actions. He'd found it useful in making his characters act in believable ways.

  Of course the results the program provided were significantly biased by the weighting of the inputs, but that was a positive rather than a negative factor in Eric's mind. His efforts with the program while he waited for events to play out focused not on a character, but on the President. He'd focused on two key factors regarding the President, what he would do if his participation in the conspiracy were discovered, and after the program gave him a very high percentage chance of attempting to flee, where he might go. The program rated his change of fleeing at almost 70%. The suggestion of where he'd go was considerable lower, probably because how little Eric had in the way of solid information. But, it had given a 24% chance he'd go to the most likely of the locations he'd given the software to consider.

  Of course, it was only a guess. But if he was wrong, then there was nothing more he could do. There was no way he alone could track the man, and he doubted even his hired detective Karl Baxter would support him in such an effort. But if he was right . . ! The house hadn't been hard to find, and he'd long ago acquired a nifty little tool while researching a novel that would easily bypass the locks on most houses. After learning about locks he come to believe the packaging for standard home locks should include something to the effect, easily bypassed or broken into.

  He sat up and closed the Kindle reader he been focused on in the dim light, setting it to one side and reaching down and wrapping his hand around the other item in the chair with him. If he was right, and the sound he'd just heard suggested he might be, then things were going to get interesting.

  He sat silently, waiting in the dim light. He closed most of the blinds to make the rooms even darker. At first there was little movement, then he heard the soft footsteps as whoever had broken the glass to obtain entry became more confident. It took several minutes, but a recognizable form stepped into the living room, stopping short when he saw Eric sitting there, less than ten feet away.

  "Don't move," Eric commanded, the barrel of the Colt Woodsman pointing squarely at Mark Pilcher. He had detected the slight movement the President's hand had made when he'd first realized he wasn't alone, suggesting that he had a weapon. Eric would have to be careful in that regard. "Don't try it," Eric warned.

  "Who are you?" the President asked uncertainly.

  "We've met once before," Eric replied. "You've probably forgotten, but you'd know my wife."

  "Your wife?"

  "Nancy Craig," Eric said softly.

  The President's breath hissed out.

  "What are you doing here in Cindy's house?" he asked after a long pause.

  "Waiting for you," Eric replied. "It was a very long shot, but worth the time. I have nothing special to do these days."

  "Why the gun?"

  "I think you can guess the answer to that."

  The President's hand was moving slowly toward his belt.

  "Ah, ah ah," Eric warned, causing the President to arrest the movement.

  "Look," the President began, but Eric cut him off.

  "You're the bastard that arranged to have my wife murdered," he said softly. "The most special person I've ever known. I warned her that politics was a dirty business, but even I never guessed what lengths some of you power-hungry fools would go to retain your momentary grip of control."

  "You've got it wrong," the President said, his eyes looking for something to distract the determined man in front of him.

  Eric let the barrel drop, giving the President hope that he wasn't going to shoot, but when the muzzle was aligned with the President's left knee, Eric fired. The sound was a sharp crack, but since it was only a twenty-two, it wasn't too objectionable and certainly wouldn't have been heard outside.

  His aim was true and the bullet smashed through the kneecap, smashing the bone and tearing through the flesh behind. The President screamed, and started to crumple toward the floor. Before he could go very far, Eric shifted his aim once again, and fired a second round into the other knee.

  The President collapsed, down on his hands and broken knees, tears in his eyes, and he looked toward Eric.

  Eric was surprised how easy it was to hit his intended target, although the range here was admittedly very short. The pistol was something he'd fired many hundreds of times long ago. His father had acquired it from someone at a gun show, a trade for an older cowboy gun. Eric and his brother had used it to shoot cans and bottles, become quite adept. As young boys tend to do, he decided on a whim to test his skills against a living target. He spotted a squirrel one afternoon, and followed it as it jumped from limb to limb as it scampered around in search of a meal. When it came to rest, he'd raised the short-barreled target gun, and fired a single shot. The small hollow point bullet was more than adequate to the task. The squirrel dropped from the tree as if clubbed. When Eric has seen the bleeding and gutted body, and realized the results of his little experiment, he had unloaded the gun, put it away, and never again picked up a firearm in his life. He blamed the weapon as much as himself. When his father had died, the weapon had passed to his brother, who had stuffed it away unused because he preferred larger caliber revolvers. Eric doubted the weapon had been fired in decades.

  Before coming to Washington, Eric had removed the weapon from his brother's collection, disassembled it, and hidden the parts in his travel luggage. He'd taped the frame to the handle of a hair drier, and stored the barrel inside a metal tube that held other travel items. He'd been aware it might be found and confiscated, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. He'd been successful, and the weapon had made it to Washington. Once in his room, he'd reassembled it, and practiced daily dry firing it. The one trip out of the hotel had been to a Walmart where he'd purchased a single box of hollow-points. All the time he hadn't really believed he actually have a chance to come up against his intended victim.

  "You can't do this," the President said between clenched lips. "I'm the President."

  "Not any more I suspect," Eric said, recalling the call from Karl that had alerted him to the fact they were preparing to invoke the amendment removing Mark from office, and swearing in the VP as his replacement. "Anyway, it doesn't matter."

  And it didn't. "He'd been careful in some ways, and not so much in others. "When he left here, he'd break down the weapon and toss the pieces where they'd be unlikely to be found. He'd already checked out of his room, and he'd drive the rental car back to Philadelphia where he'd acquired it, and spend the night in the room he'd been paying for all week. In the morning, he'd fly home. He knew this little maneuvers wouldn't be sufficient. He'd be a likely suspect and checking his phone, and the local hotels would reveal he'd been her
e. He probably left enough DNA to convict him. He was a writer of such novels, and had researched the way these things worked long ago. But he didn't care. He was getting his revenge. Revenge for the woman he missed so terribly. And, he'd have the satisfaction of knowing this bastard lost in the end, all his crimes failing to give him what he craved.

  Eric shifted the muzzle until the barrel was pointed at the President's face. Then he fired a series of shots, emptying the small pistol.

  It was done.

  He looked at the mangled face on the floor beneath him. He'd felt bad about the squirrel. That wasn't the case here. If anything, he wished he could kill the SOB again.

  Looking around, and gathering up his Kindle, he walked toward the phone, picking up the handset with his gloved hand, he dialed the police. He set the receiver down on the table, then headed toward the back door, leaving the way he'd come in. The police would investigate soon enough.

  Chapter 45

  Washington, DC

  Monday, 4 November 2024

  The last twenty-four hours had been horrific. Toshiko couldn't believe that she was now the president of the United States. It was a job that she'd never desired, nor had she ever considered the possibility she might end up in a situation even remotely resembling this one. A few short days ago she'd been looking forward to the election and the selection of someone else to be VP, let alone president. She couldn't believe how rapidly things had changed, and how she'd been swept up in events that were simply as unbelievable as they were irresistible.

  She'd been shocked when the Directors of both the FBI and NSA had cornered her in her office and explained that she needed to lead an effort to enact the twenty-fifth amendment and remove President Pilcher from office. It had been the stuff of nightmares to locate and persuade the various members of his cabinet to make their way into the Capital building, maintaining the secrecy of the meeting, and then answering all their questions surrounding the planned removal. Director Crampton, long a close friend of the President, had been key to getting some of the group to knuckle under and support the vote. In the end it was nearly unanimous.

  Afterwards, there had been a small swearing-in ceremony where she had taken the oath of office in the presence of witnesses. Both Directors and the Majority leaders of both parties had felt it imperative that a sitting president be in place when word of the transition became public knowledge, something they initially had planned for Sunday evening after Mark Pilcher had been taken into custody and charged with the crimes they believed him guilty of.

  Things had not gone at all as planned. Before Director Crampton could send a team of agents to make the arrest, the received word that the President had somehow fled the White House, apparently having become aware of their actions and the discovery of his guilt, incapacitating his on-duty Secret Service agents, and ultimately killing one of them as he fled.

  Another murder.

  The Secret Service agents available had already begun a search for where he had gone, but he managed to elude the search and disappear into greater Washington. They had struggled with whether to inform the populace of the situation, given that he was armed and obviously dangerous having killed one agent as he fled, then agreed to pursue the search discretely in hopes he could be located and taken into custody before any such announcement had to be made. The international ramifications of alerting the world to the situation before having him in custody were too horrible to consider. The major rally that was scheduled had to be cancelled; the news media alerted to the fact the President had become afflicted with an acute case of diarrhea.

  The next couple of hours had been frightful as various teams tried to determine where he might have gone. A man with his wealth and contacts had a great many options. He had friends in the city, some of whom might be willing to overlook the manner of his flight. Then the surprise call to the FBI Director from a local police department. They had found the President. He had been shot and killed.

  Swearing the police to silence with threats of imprisonment for violating national security, the Director and a key team had made their way to the house where he'd been found. In hindsight, it was a logical place to have looked for him. The body was verified to be the President and the remains quietly relocated to a secret morgue until decisions could be made as how to proceed. That's what brought them to this moment.

  She shivered slightly as the man holding a sheet of papers signaled her, and noted the light come on in the front of the camera that indicated she was live. Taking a deep breath, she began the speech that had been written with the help of key members of both parties.

  My Fellow Americans,

  I am here to deliver some very disturbing news that everyone must be made aware of. Those watching will have noted the text on your monitors have me labeled as the President of the United States. This is true. Former President Mark Pilcher is dead. He was killed yesterday afternoon. His death was kept a secret so certain critical activities related to our national security could be put in place before any potential enemies could have a chance to act while the government was somewhat in a state of disarray. One of those acts was to elevate my position to President. This was done in accordance to the existing constitutional directives, and witnessed by the appropriate people. The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court administered the oath, and the entire sequence will be broadcast at the conclusion of this announcement. Hopefully this will satisfy those who are concerned that protocols have been adhered to, and that the government is operating normally.

  But for how long, you might ask. The elections are scheduled for tomorrow. That was indeed a concern. The Democratic Party has rightly raised concerns about the process and fairness to their candidates since the matter of Nancy Craig's killing surfaced some weeks ago. The Republican Party suddenly finds itself in the awkward position of not having a candidate to serve as standard bearer, and one day is hardly sufficient to responsibly fill that void.

  The Presidental election scheduled for tomorrow have been cancelled. All other voting will proceed as planned. Before some of your get overly excited and claim the government has been appropriated illegally taking advantage of this situation, understand that an emergency session of both Houses was called for very early this morning. The intent of that gathering was to address that very problem before I was scheduled to come before you and report on the status of the government. Following the rules governing the scheduling of elections, the decision was made, and essentially universally agreed to, that the elections will be postponed until next June. This delay, a mere half a year, will give both Parties the opportunity to re-plan, and reselect, the individual they wish to offer to you, the people, for possible election.

  I'd like to say more about the voting tomorrow. For some years now the interaction between political parties has become ever more antagonistic. Opposing views are outright rejected, and reasonable debate and discussion has almost disappeared. This is not a way for our country to continue. I suggest as you vote for the various Senators and Representatives that you look toward individuals more open to a reasonable exchange of ideas. The gridlock in this country must cease.

  For those of you who might believe my words are the opening volley in my own campaign to run for this position in the elections to be held next spring, let me inform you that your concern is completely unfounded. I never wanted to be President. Those who have paid close attention will know I had opted out of the elections and further political involvement. I believe the current state of politics in this country is disruptive and emotionally harmful, causing those involved serious issues that I don't want to risk. Former President Pilcher is a perfect example of what I am talking about. I will, under no circumstances, be on the ballot come spring. I will serve out the coming six months because the country needs to move forward with no further disruption, but that will be the absolute end of my official duties. This is something I consider non-negotiable.

  Now, as a final word on recent events, I would like to return to the matter of o
ur former President. You will be hearing a lot more about this matter in the coming weeks as the news media pounces on every detail of what has taken place. Everyone knows that the death of former Democratic candidate Nancy Craig was not an accident as originally believed, and was in fact a carefully planned and executed assassination. In the recent weeks, you have learned a bit about those responsible, and in the last couple of days that the last two thought to be involved had been located and killed in the process of being apprehended. What most of you have not yet learned, is that it was our President who was actually the mastermind behind this plot. He had Mrs. Craig murdered in order to retain his place as President. You see what I mean about politics being corruptive? When he learned that his involvement had been discovered, he attempted to flee, killing one of his own Secret Service protectors in the process. He was later killed as he attempted to hide in the home of his former girlfriend, who we also believe he ordered murdered because she had become aware of what was actually going on. I wanted you to hear this from me, from an official source, to temper how the media choose to frame the matter in the coming days.

  This speech has been brief, but I am not the best of public speakers, and there remains much to do as you might imagine. I will be speaking with you again in the coming week, attempting to keep you informed as to what progress we are making and anything new that we have learned.