by Jake Aaron
Ron heard rustling noises in the men’s room, so he lightly knocked on the door of the women’s restroom. No reaction. In that restroom, he opened his briefcase. He slipped off his $500 Brooks Brothers navy blue pinstripe suit jacket and pulled a color-coordinated Walmart hoodie over his head and torso. He stuffed the suit jacket into the briefcase and listened at the bathroom door.
Meanwhile, the agents in the bar had requested backup through their earpieces. The agent in the car in front of the bar and the agent guarding the back of the bar responded. The latter agent, a former linebacker for Miami, stormed the rear entrance door as if it were the Florida State line. Ron heard him slam through the rear door and charge by the restroom door as expected. Amidst the confusion, Ron quietly slipped out the back door to find the nearest side street. He hailed a cab for his rendezvous. To cover his tracks, he directed the taxi toward Springfield, VA. There he got out, walked two blocks, turned a corner, and changed his hoodie for his suit jacket in a McDonald’s restroom. Then he caught another cab to take him to his destination.
Ron hummed to himself Michelle, with a hat tip to the Beetles.
Chapter 24
November 16
District of Columbia
How appropriate to meet Michelle Lindquist here at the prestigious Capitol Escape hotel, Congressman Kelly thought. He entered the hotel through the service entrance wearing his complete navy blue suit and carrying his briefcase with hoodie inside. Even though the security guard recognized him, he slipped Fred $200 with a wink and a slap on the shoulder, “Spread this around!” He used the stairs to get to his room on the fifth floor. He was there ahead of Michelle as he planned. He entered the room and immediately took a 100 mg Viagra tablet with three swallows of Fiji bottled water. That started the clock on the desired lead time of at least 30 minutes to allow the magic blue pill to work properly.
Michelle knew he took these, but never talked about it — no need to lessen his enormous ego. She mentally laughed at that notion: How could you tell? In the same vein, Michelle relentlessly kept a veil of mystery about herself. She believed this mystique about her persona helped set her apart from Ron’s wife, who like all wives, she thought, gravitated toward roommate in overfamiliarity. So Michelle always dressed and undressed in a separate room and never was in the bathroom at the same time as Ron, not even for a shared shower.
She was Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Pennsylvania, an Ivy Leaguer political science major. Her father was an Episcopal priest. Though Michelle was a natural beauty, her dad consistently counseled her, “Some are blessed with looks and others brains. My dear, you must rely on your brains.” Knowing the impermanence of physical beauty, he did this with good intent. However, as a result, she never saw in the mirror what others saw. Over time as she could afford them, she had arranged for three separate facial surgeries — against her plastic surgeon’s advice.
Michelle herself was no kept woman. Her first husband was also her first employer, a senator from Rhode Island. His cheating had taken down their “perfect” marriage. From that experience she had rewritten her playbook: Be aware of your situation; maintain a feminine mystique; be mentally tough. When she was honest with herself, she also realized she probably would have left the Senator anyway. She needed excitement. Her liaisons with Congressman Kelly provided another side-benefit: As a successful lobbyist, she had an inside track on legislation. She patiently accrued valuable information with subtle indirect questions and feedback from Ron’s reactions to her strategic work revelations and her couched rhetorical questions.
Michelle slipped her key card into room 521’s lock twenty-five minutes after Ron arrived. They passionately kissed open-mouthed. Embracing in a long, tight hug, Ron whispered, “Michelle, have you lost weight?” He could not escape an innate desire always to con. “I missed you!”
“And I, you, stranger. I try to stay in shape for you, dear. You’ve had a long day. Let me take your jacket, big guy. Shall I order room service?”
“Michelle, I don’t mean to disrespect you. In fact, I hope this compliments you. It has been so long… I’d like to take you right now. Please understand. You are so beautiful. You are all I’ve thought about for past several weeks. Food can wait.” Ron could even turn on the charm when lust was about to overwhelm him. Quite remarkable for such an undisciplined soul.
“I understand, honey. You have a drink. Give me a few minutes to get ready,” Michelle purred and bussed his left cheek. She headed to the bathroom, Victoria’s Secret aubergine lace satin negligee in hand. “Thank you so much for the beautiful red rose bouquet! The hotel left a bottle of Louis Roederer Brut Cristal in the ice bucket on the tray. They also left us ‘his’ and ‘hers’ envelopes. Mine had Andes mints. I’ll share if you will,” she said seductively from the bathroom entrance.
Now alone, Ron popped the cork on the champagne. He poured into two Mikasa flutes. He took his first sip. He savored the tickling bubbles. I deserve this, he thought. Then he opened “his” envelope. Inside was the expected premium condom that touted improved performance. He smiled and took another sip of bubbly. The hotel knew him well. Normally, a committed couple would share unprotected sex, but Ron knew he could last longer with a condom. Given his high profile, he would not purchase one in public. No, but the concierge would. The security guard understood to share his tip with the concierge.
In the bathroom, Michelle prepared for their encounter. She carefully removed her clothes and donned a shower cap. In the shower she took great pains to shave her legs and armpits without a knick. After a cold rinse, she dabbed herself off with a plush towel. She applied just enough baby oil for a smooth shine. She followed by strategically applying copious amounts of Poison Dior perfume — the fragrance that gave Ron a flashback to his high school prom. She would have preferred small amounts of Donna Karan Cashmere Mist perfume, her signature. She examined her shaved armpits. Was there anything to recent scientific studies that odorless pheromones from these sites were key to sexual attraction? She would cover all the bases. She smiled in the mirror, admiring her freshly brushed teeth and chic negligee.
Meanwhile, Ron cut a slice of hard cheese that came with the Cristal. He had once remarked to the concierge that after the first swallow, he could not tell a good wine from cheap one. “Why waste money on a bottle when a sip is all you can enjoy?” The concierge suggested he try a small slice of Italian Parmigiano-Reggiano occasionally between sips. Yes, the salty cheese worked and greatly increased his appreciation of the next sip of fine champagne.
Michelle gracefully closed the bathroom door and slinked over to him. She sat in his lap, crossed her shapely glistening, freshly-shaved legs, and toasted “The best for the best!” She cast a spell with her seductive perfume. “See, I remember eau de prom!” Michelle smiled. She savored the Cristal with the Congressman. Her warm lips kissed his lingeringly, then almost abruptly pulled away. Keep him wanting more, she thought. Off to bed she glided. “Don’t be long!” she teased.
The Cristal mellowed Ron’s former rush to sex. He mulled over their relationship. Ron knew his position as a congressman was all that put him in a league with Michelle. She was far classier than he was. She had a natural elegance he’d heard others comment on. She was poised even in the most difficult of circumstances. She was well-read, intelligent, and always alert. Her greatest weakness was low esteem about her looks, despite her singular beauty. He reminded himself to sincerely compliment her on her appearance whenever possible. He had forgotten his manipulative admiration earlier. What comes naturally is easily forgotten.
Ron would have been embarrassed if he had been in public, or in any case stay seated. He was erect. God bless the red, white, and blue — red ink, white negligee, and blue pill, he cynically grinned. I’ve been around Joe Biden too much he laughed at himself; her negligee was aubergine. He mentally toasted Joe and sipped the Cristal. He had a nice buzz on from the cumulative effects of aged scotch and expensive champagne.
Michelle grace
fully stretched her legs between the sheets of the bed. Always self-aware, Michelle lay on her side out of habit, knowing she might snore in the supine position. It is important to go out on a high, she thought, as she contemplated their relationship. Tomorrow would be her last time to see Ron Kelly, she quickly decided. He was no longer exciting. She would make him end their relationship when she demanded immediate marriage. There was promise of a new relationship with more depth and excitement. She would accept the open dinner invitation from Commander Ray Burton. He was intelligent, athletic, and had a great sense of humor. He recently arrived in the area for a four-year tour at Annapolis, she had learned on meeting him at a dinner party earlier in the week.
Michelle’s thoughts began to blur. Her body felt heavy on the luxurious mattress she had customized for her comfort. Knowing one’s sleep number, she had learned, was as important as knowing one’s blood type, maybe more so. Hers was 20. She remained conscious for no more than 30 seconds. The last two weeks had been an exhausting series of 14-hour workdays and stressful deadlines. She plunged into deep sleep.
Ron took off his Jeffrey Westbrook shoes, then most of his clothes, which he draped over a chair. He stuck an unlit Cohiba in his mouth, thanks to fellow Congressman John McClain. Condom package in hand, he headed to the bathroom in his boxers, shut the door, and turned on the hot water faucet. He splashed his face several times to soften his tough whiskers. Out of habit, Ron turned around to set the hot water of the bath’s shower to full on. He was surprised how quickly the Bosch tankless water heater worked. He had his desired steam bath effect in under a minute. Nothing like steam to moisten whiskers and relax the body. Never mind he had to use a towel periodically to see himself in the fogged up mirror. He lathered up his beard and pulled the fresh-bladed Gillette powered razor over his face, twice over each area. Otherwise, Michelle would complain of his stubble’s sandpaper-like roughness on her perfect ivory complexion.
Ron toweled his face off and turned his head side to side to check his handiwork in the mirror. He smiled to himself as he gargled with mouthwash and applied his Acqua Di Gio after shave. The fine after shave was a ritual one-upsmanship on his bay-rum smelling dad who told young Ron he would never amount to anything. Dad, you always liked Phil more, his mental tape ran. The recurring memory was chilling. He flashed on the overturn of a sailboat in cold lake water when he was a lad. Phil, Ron, and his father were swept overboard without life jackets. His dad was twenty feet from each boy. Even though Ron was younger and could not swim, his dad swam to rescue Phil first. After getting Phil to the floating hull, his dad came back to get a nearly drowned Ron. Dad, you chose Phil over me. Dad, you should see me now, he thought proudly. Take that!
He exited his boxers one leg at a time, once again wiping the mirror and looking to admire his beveled chin. He looked down and noticed he was still erect. He opened the condom package and pulled the sheath over his penis. Strange, it had more cooling lubricant inside than he remembered. Easier to get on, he supposed, and perhaps it had some magical ingredients. It’s all good, he mused. Then, he realized something was different.
Life is mostly stasis, so the different sensation really stood out. Ron had an unfamiliar feeling, or really lack of feeling, throughout his body. His penis was becoming flaccid. His breathing drastically slowed. He rolled with a dull thud to the floor as if performing a parachute landing fall. He was unable to move.
Ron Kelly’s last thought: Michelle, my belle.
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A florist deliveryman had visited the hotel earlier just after noon. His portable wireless signal jammer made his arrival at one of the rear entrances unseeable on the surveillance cameras. He proceeded to a stairwell from which he randomly blocked cameras on different floors. The hotel security guard left his desk to figure out what was going on. After five minutes, the guard concluded there was a glitch in the camera system.
The florist deliveryman was disguised with a wig, beard, and baseball hat. He kept his head down and avoided security cameras out of habit. He found the door to room 521 open as the maid scrubbed down the the bathroom. She had the faucets of the wash basin and shower at full open, creating a near thunderous background. She kept flushing the toilet as she wiped down all surfaces of the bathroom. With the housekeeper out of sight, he adeptly changed out the concierge-provided condom for one he had customized. The “his” gift envelope flap fortunately was tucked, not sealed.
The deliveryman had been trained to think several seconds ahead of events. Always appear to be what part you’re playing. Act as if you belong there. Never be startled, but act startled if you need to do so. Have several appropriate remarks ready. Have your words flow smoothly as if to a metronome. Never be too memorable or egregious. Above all, have a trump card. Today, he learned the name of the hotel manager who was conveniently out. If pushed, he would drop that name as if he were the guy’s brother-in-law. Doing his “homework” had always set him apart from his peers. Thus, he was prepared for being seen.
When the housekeeper came out of the bathroom, the deliveryman was arranging the twelve red roses he brought. Without looking at the housekeeper, he nonchalantly spoke, “I hope your guests will enjoy these beautiful roses. You have a great day!”
The deliveryman’s exit from the hotel was masked again as he created a random pattern of intermittent camera fuzzings on different floors. Again, the security guard dutifully, but apathetically, checked out the building, believing once more that the surveillance system was acting up. The watchman thought of the old adage about crying “Wolf!” one too many times.
_______________
The florist deliveryman had inserted a toxic gel into the previously sealed condom, which he then carefully resealed. The gel was venom from the blue-ringed octopus mixed with dimethyl sulfoxide (DMSO). The octopus venom is a paralytic, with no known anti-venom. Chemically, it is the same as the better known pufferfish venom and thousands of times more lethal than cyanide. Its chemical name is tetrodotoxin. A doctor would note the tetrodotoxin reaches a peak plasma concentration around 20 minutes after entering the body.
The DMSO served to transmit the octopus venom through the skin in lieu of octopus bites. The initially blood-engorged penis was ideal for large surface area exposure. Contracting erectile tissue provided subsequent rapid wide internal distribution of the toxin as venous blood returned to the rest of the body. A deadly cascade ensued, beginning with the neurotoxin inhibiting the respiratory system and culminating in cardiac arrest.
Chapter 25
November 16
District of Columbia
Congressman Kelly’s giving federal agents the slip was reported almost immediately to FBI Director Sam Vincent. Sam told his secretary to hold all calls unless it was the White House, Vice President, or Speaker of the House. Sam selected the slowest of the zen chimes in his hearing aids. He needed to dampen his fight response. Next he mentally outlined three versions of the Kelly event with the Deputy Director before calling the White House with the best one, one with an objective but proactive bent.
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Sam ordered the Deputy Director to follow protocol on the incident. The staff could tell the Director was even more intensely focused than usual by his measured, slightly slower monotone speech pattern. Every word was deliberate and precise. With rough seas looming, he closed his office door.
Sam closed his eyes to meditate for 20 minutes. His grandfather, who had been a brigadier general and commandant of cadets at West Point, shared his secret of success learned as a tank commander in World War II: Stay sharper than those around you. “I took frequent catnaps to keep my edge. Kept me at least a step ahead of everyone else. Try it!” the general had advised. If nothing else, the image of himself carrying around a Charlie Brown blanket in the Hoover Building, made Sam chuckle.
When Sam’s watch alarm went off, he collected his thoughts. His first call was to Zach. “Zach, here’s where we are… Now I want you and Barb to stay in the loo
p on Congressman Kelly’s disappearance. See if the bar incident is related in any way to threats against Congress. Congressman Kelly knew he could be stepping into harm’s way sponsoring that $175 billion biofuels bill. Until today, his security detail reported nothing extraordinary. Get back to me anytime, day or night, if you come up with anything. Gotta go.”
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“Contain the situation!” was the order of day from the FBI Director. Each of the two sets of agents from the bar commotion had taken one of the handcuffed Mediterranean-looking men in a separate sedan and sped away for interrogation. After discussing the situation with headquarters, each threesome had gone directly to a separate safe house.
Getting to the truth was a matter of keeping each suspect off-balance. Initially, intense pressure was applied with the presumption of guilt. Both agents at each site had yelled loudly and pounded the table, unholstered pistols, and cracked their knuckles. It helped that the sites were rural. After every question had been asked at least three times in different form, one agent stayed with the suspect while the other adjourned to compare notes on a cell phone with his counterpart at the other safe house. Then, each returning agent played the “good guy” role as his counterpart played “bad guy.”
After eight exhaustive hours of interrogation, teleconferencing agents agreed to ease off the pressure. Each suspect was then uncuffed and offered choices of snacks or frozen food from a well-stocked refrigerator. The agents explained that a crisis situation in the capital required that each detainee remain under government protection for the near term — without any outside contact. While each was being downgraded from suspect to person of interest, the bar incident was still not fully explained. Each lead interrogator morphed into caretaker: “We have excellent access to movies through the television and some best seller DVDs and books. You are our guests.”