The desk was clean. It was too clean. He picked up the keyboard and looked at the gleaming surface underneath, not even an eyelash. The area behind the monitor should have been filled with dust bunnies and other accumulated dirt but it was also clean. He was busy shaking nothing from the upside down keyboard when Kurt came back.
“Is everything okay, Mr. President?” asked Kurt.
Muddy nearly dropped the keyboard, “Yes, everything is fine,” he said with a smile as he spun the chair around to face the man. “Just admiring Ezra’s desk. It’s so clean!”
“This is Jeff McCoy, Ezra’s supervisor,” Kurt said as he introduced the short pudgy fellow dressed in a stained short sleeved white shirt with a hideous cartoon-themed tie. The man had a fantastic array of tightly curled hair.
“Uh, hello, Mr. President, it’s a real honor,” Jeff said as he stepped forward to shake hands. “Please excuse the mustard stain, I am from Green Bay and I eat a lot of bratwurst.”
“That’s nice, Jeff,” Muddy said as he stood to his feet.
His palm was a cold wet fish in Muddy’s hand and the President tried not to flinch through the floppy handshake. “Is Ezra Paulsen in the office today?” he asked while unconsciously drying his hand on his leg. He stopped when he noticed Kurt smirking.
“No, I am sorry, Mr. President, he hasn’t been around the last few days. He was in briefly last Wednesday but left almost right away complaining of the flu. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Has anyone been by his place to check on him? Isn’t that standard operating procedure around here?” Muddy asked.
“Oh yes, sir, it certainly is,” Jeff said, spraying spittle into the President’s face.
Kurt piped in, “After I located Jeff and he told me Mr. Paulsen hadn’t been around in a few days I checked with my supervisor and we did send a team over to his apartment. The place was cleared out. No trace of him. A neighbor saw a moving team clearing his stuff out over the weekend and just assumed he was moving out. The guy kept to himself I guess. What were you having him do for you if I may ask, sir?”
It took a moment for Kurt’s question to sink in as all Muddy could think about was the cleared out apartment, “It was nothing, Kurt, just a little research on some legislation coming my way. I wanted some fresh eyes on it is all. Lined up nicely with some development planning Mr. Paulsen had expressed interest in when we met. I always look to give an opportunity when I can. This is all pretty bizarre, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know if I would say bizarre, Mr. President, happens down here more than you’d think. These kids come in dreaming of glory in the White House and find themselves doing administrative work for little pay and long hours. A lot of them burn out and head for home when it gets to be too much,” Jeff said.
“Seems reasonable, Jeff, thanks for your input,” Muddy said. “Well, I’ve got stuff that needs my attention so I will leave you to it.” Muddy endured another handshake and turned to leave with Kurt and his detail and when he paused. “Say, Jeff, one more question, did you clean up Ezra’s desk?”
“Oh, no, sir, there is a crew that takes care of that after hours once we terminate an employee’s access.”
“When does that happen?”
“As soon as we are aware the person is leaving, there are no two-week notices down here. In Mr. Paulsen’s case, which was a ‘no call, no show,’ access would’ve been cut off an hour into the work day. It’s done for security purposes,”
“Makes sense,” Muddy said, “But why leave the picture?”
“Pardon me, sir?”
“This photo,” Muddy said, going back to the desk and holding up the picture of Ezra and the unknown woman.
“Oh,” said Jeff, “I, um, really don’t know why they would have left it. I’ve never asked but I always assumed they boxed up personal belongings and mailed them to the address we have on record. I can take care of it for you, sir,” Jeff said and reached for the photo.
“Nope!” Muddy shouted, causing everyone to jump. “I mean, thank you,” he said, holding the photo in a death grip. “But I will take care of it. Make sure it gets back to Mr. Paulsen. I intend to enclose a letter wishing him well; just something I like to do when those in my employ choose to pursue other opportunities.”
“Yes, of course, sir, as you wish, that’s a very nice touch,” Jeff said, though Muddy could clearly read his expression. The man thought he was nuts.
“Mr. President?” a soft voice chimed in from the cubicle next to Ezra’s workspace.
Muddy turned to see a woman standing up inside her cubicle. She was so short he could only see the top half of her face, “Yes?” he asked.
“I am sorry to interrupt but I put the picture on Ezra’s desk. I wasn’t here Wednesday but when I got here on Thursday it was on my desk. I thought he was playing a joke so I just put it back. I thought it was weird his desk was empty but I didn’t really give it much thought.”
“What time did you get here on Thursday?”
“The usual time, everyone is in by 7:00 AM.”
“And the desk was already empty?” Muddy asked.
“Yes, sir,” she said. Muddy raised an eyebrow at both Kurt and Jeff.
“I don’t know what to say, Mr. President,” Jeff said, looking stumped. His curly hair bobbing as he thought about it. “Maybe our security protocols were changed?”
Kurt added, “I can look into it, sir.”
“Please do that, Kurt, also, I want to see all video surveillance we have on Ezra from the last few weeks up until his desk was cleared out, can you do that for me?”
“I can but it may take a while, sir.”
“See that it doesn’t, Kurt, also when I say video footage, I do meaneverything we have, when he arrived, when he left, what he did while he was here, everything, got it?”
“Absolutely, sir,” Kurt said.
Muddy wasn’t making many friends today but he didn’t care. “Good,” he said. He took another look at the photo, stuck it inside his suit coat and walked away, Kurt and the rest of his detail jogging to keep up.
…
The end of that verylong day found a very worried Muddy in his executive wash room splashing water on his face.What the hell had happened to Ezra? Kurt had gotten back to him on the video footage. There was none. It was like Ezra stopped existing as of two and a half weeks ago. He chided himself on his foolish decision to bring another person into the mess he was in. An innocent, unsuspecting person at that. At least Muddy believed that was the case. Perhaps Ezra Paulsen was involved the entire time and the Syndicate was just trifling with Muddy for amusement. Though, that seemed unlikely being that they seemed to have much larger things to focus on. He dried his hands and headed back to his office.
He uttered a surprised gasp to find someone sitting in the chair behind his desk. “You can’t just buzz in here anytime you want,” Muddy shouted.
Dick looked at him with calm, dead eyes, “I can do just about whatever the fuck I please, Muddy. You really need to get that through your thick head. Now take a seat,” he said pointing to a chair in front of the desk.
“Get out of my chair, you fucking clown, before I toss you out!” Muddy yelled, fists clenched and pulse throbbing.
Dick sighed but made no move to get up, “Threatening my person and calling me names is no way to greet your benefactor, Muddy.”
“YOU ARE NOT MY BENEFACTOR!” Muddy screamed and dove across the desk. He plowed into Dick who met him in wide-eyed surprised as they both crashed to the floor knocking the big chair over in the process. From there it was a wild scrum of elbows, knees and teeth as both men struggled for the upper hand. They finally separated as Dick delivered an impressive upper cut to the President’s belly while at the same time Muddy smashed an elbow into Dick’s nose. They both rolled away dazed, hurt and cursing.
“I thig you brog my node,” Dick mumbled as he stared at the ceiling and tried to staunch the fountain of blood streaming down his face.
/> “Good,” the President wheezed, rolling on his side to cast a wary glance at the other man. “Where the fuck is my security detail?” Muddy shouted at the door to the Oval Office. Kurt and crew should have kicked the door down at the first raised voice.
Dick walked over to a mirror, carefully placed his fingers into position on his face and let out a little scream as he pushed his nose back into place. Then he hobbled over to a catering tray and tore two strips out of a cloth napkin and placed them gingerly into his nostrils, effectively stopping the bleeding. “They know better than to interrupt me when I am here,” he said, sounding like he had the worst cold of all time. His eyes were starting to swell.
At least now Muddy knew he couldn’t trust his security detail. He got to his feet and squared up to meet Dick again, “Just tell me what the fuck you are doing here so you can get out, you are nothing but a glorified messenger. One I wouldn’t have any qualms about killing by the way.”
“Kill me?” Dick shouted but made no move to engage Muddy again physically. “You think you could kill me? I am afraid you’ve forgotten the terms of our arrangement. You are the person with everything to lose!”
“We have no arrangement, Dick!” Muddy shot back, “Unless you’ve been the evil mastermind behind everything from the beginning. But no, that isn’t possible is it?”
Muddy could see Dick struggling for a clever retort, his lips moved but no sound came out. Perhaps the viciousness of Muddy’s sudden attack had thrown Dick for a loop and he wasn’t sure he still held the upper hand. “No, Dick, it isn’t possible because the truth is, you aren’t smart enough.” Muddy started laughing and pointing, fully aware of how childish he sounded but not caring. It was nice to see the other man sweat for a change.
“Think you’ve got it all figured out, Muddy?” Dick hissed, “You just wait and see what happens if you don’t get your poop in a group and stop messing with things you don’t understand. You ever play baseball, Muddy? In baseball its three strikes and you’re out but with these fucking people you get one, maybe two strikes if you’re real damn lucky.”
“What the fuck is your point?”
“Ezra Paulsen was strike one for you, Muddy. That’s why I am here. You are one of the lucky ones, you get another chance. I am guessing that is only because of what a major pain in the ass it would be to replace you.”
Muddy’s guts turned to ice as Dick confirmed what he had feared. “What did you do to Ezra?” he asked. It was hard for him to speak he was so angry.
Dick smiled and put his palms up in a shrug, “I didn’t do anything to him. You did when you sent him off to do the dirty work you were too afraid to do on your own.”
“Is he dead?” Muddy’s voice quavered as he wrestled with his emotions. He was not one for crying but things did seem to be headed in that direction. It didn’t appear Dick was going to answer his question. The man had gone to the cabinet where Muddy kept his scotch, poured himself a drink and gulped it down. “I just want to know if he’s dead,” Muddy pleaded.
The liquor seemed to help Dick regain his above-it-all composure. He favored Muddy with a long contemptuous look as he enjoyed a second drink. “Mr. President, sad to say but we don’t always get what we want.”
After Dick left, Muddy limped over to his desk, pulled the chair upright and sat down with a heavy thud. Massaging his temples and humming an old hymn softly to himself. He thought about sin and redemption and judgment and eternal damnation. He imagined his mother, a strict Baptist woman, staring down at him from Heaven with a cross expression on her face. It seemed clear enough, he was a gone goose in a hailstorm, and there would be no redemption. But it wasn’t the Safety First legislation or the rigged presidential race that was bringing him down. It was the face of Ezra Paulsen. A face Muddy was sure he would see every time he closed his eyes to sleep. He sighed and retrieved the photo he’d stashed in his desk drawer.What had they done to him? Was it painful or fast? He must have found something, otherwise why make him disappear?
Muddy stared at the photo willing Ezra’s image to speak to him from within the confines of its two-dimensional prison.Why did you leave the photo? What are you trying to tell me? Needless to say the photo didn’t speak. Staring at the image of the woman, Muddy was again struck by how much they looked alike but Ezra hadn’t mentioned a sister. But then he thought of something. He dashed over to the stack of background files still sitting in a corner of the Oval Office. Ezra’s folder was still on the top.
Ezra had told him he had been adopted at a young age. Muddy paged through the data until he found the adoption information a few pages in. Ezra had been adopted from a Catholic orphanage in the early ‘90s. His biological parents were Tony and Deborah Willis. He had a sister, Ruth Willis; she had the same date of birth, Ezra had a twin! Unfortunately, the trail ran cold from there as the folder indicated the biological parents were both deceased and Ruth Willis could not be located.
The siblings were a tale of two fortunes; Ezra had been adopted by a wealthy family while, apparently, Ruth had dropped through the cracks with social services. But Ezra had found her. The photo was evidence of that. Muddy continued to puzzle over the photo before finally removing the backing. It was a tight fit as he forced the cardboard out. A folded sheet of paper fell out and dropped to the floor. He set the frame and photo down, grabbed the folded paper and hustled to the washroom to read it privately.
The rest room was the only place he felt safe anymore, convinced nobody would be interested in monitoring his bowel movements. He locked the stall door and sat down on the toilet seat and unfolded the scrap of paper. On it was an address:225 Irving Street, Park View, Apt. 4 – Corky. Muddy committed the address and name to memory, shredded the paper and flushed it down the toilet. Although he didn’t know who this Corky person was, he was convinced he would find Ezra’s sister there. Perhaps he had managed to leave her with a clue of whatever he’d found. The question was how to get there without being followed; the beginnings of a plan began forming in his mind.
The Secret Service, a day late and a dollar short, were in the Oval Office when Muddy returned from the wash room. Kurt and three other agents were feigning alarm and concern at the office, which was in shambles from the disagreement he’d had with Dick.
“Are you okay, Mr. President?” Kurt asked.
Muddy glared at him until the other man looked away. “I’m fine, please get someone to clean this shit up. I will be requiring transportation if it isn’t too much trouble,” he snapped.
“Are you sure that is the best idea, sir? Perhaps we should go into lockdown until we can be sure the White House is secure.”
“We both know that isn’t necessary, please call down for my car.”
“Might I ask where we’ll be going, sir?”
“Look, Agent Naffziger, I have had a long day and an even longer evening, as you are well aware. If you must know I will going to my assistant’s house. We have a morning briefing to plan. I imagine it will take most of the night.”
“I see, sir,” Kurt replied with a knowing look. “I will have the car brought around and we will get you over to Ms. Leland’s place in a jiffy. Shall I let the First Lady know you’ll be leaving?”
“I would suggest not fucking with me tonight, Kurt. I am really not in the mood. Unless your ambitions have always been for a permanent posting at the governor’s mansion in Alaska.”
Kurt paled under the President’s glare, “Of course not, sir, my apologies, I was just trying to be helpful.”
“My ass you were, now get that fucking car already,” Muddy said. He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the office trying not to smile and break character. Phase one of his plan was working, build a credible alibi. Adultery for a sitting president was almost an expectation. This would be like taking candy from a baby.
Chapter 12: Granola Bars & Shit Sandwiches
The Present
We were in a caravan of two vehicles moving through the streets like a funeral processio
n. Packed into a battered Lumina and an almost new Dodge Ram truck with no topper. Tessa drove while I navigated; Mark and the boys were huddled in the backseat. Everyone else was in the truck right behind us. Lanskey and Randolph in the cab with the rest of the crew shivering in the truck bed including Steven who as very pissed. I could tell he was starting to get jealous of Tessa’s growing fascination with me.
The route to the old bakery had been planned with stealth in mind. We went left out of Chelsea’s parking lot down to Broadway, then a right on 2nd Street, which we stayed on until just a block shy of Hennepin Avenue. There we parked and did our best to hide the only two working vehicles we had been fortunate enough to find in the automotive graveyard the city had become. I kept the road clear of the undead but this wasn’t our main concern. We drove with the lights off and had to stop twice. Once to avoid detection from an overhead helicopter and the other time because the Lumina got stuck in a snowdrift. Even the boys were grumpy by the time we had hidden the cars.
We set out on foot trudging through a miserably thick blanket of nature’s finest anger inducer still at least four blocks from our destination. This time Wilson and Lanskey took point while Randolph and one of his men guarded us from behind. The rest of us formed a tight cluster of idiocy as we scrambled down the sidewalks staying as close to the storefronts as possible. All but a few of the windows were smashed in. The snow was brutal and none of us were prepared for it wearing only the clothes we scavenged from houses near the bar. A garment was either ill fighting or insufficient for the season and sometimes both. With our feet, hands and faces losing sensation at an alarming pace, our group was hustling toward a destination no one but me believed truly existed. I was happy they trusted me and was really hoping that mysterious cellar was still there. A lot can happen over the course of nearly ten decades.
I closed my eyes and listened as we moved through the snow. The only sound was the wind and the not so gentle sweep of our feet. After finishing with Eva I had dispersed the hordes of zombies milling around the riverbank and around the city. I did this partly to give the bridge guards something to else to worry about but mostly because I didn’t think I could concentrate enough to keep them out of our hair while we searched for the building with the possible tunnel.
Running with the Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters Page 10