The Coalition: A Novel of Suspense

by Samuel Marquis

  Has she no idea the powerful people she’s defying? Or does she not care?

  “...time for us to recognize that the GOP is no longer God’s Only Party . The new Republican Party is a truly big tent, with room for everyone, including homosexuals and pro-choice advocates. That’s why I met with the Log Cabin Republicans and Republicans for Choice earlier today, to try and find common ground...”

  The breath came raw in Locke’s throat. He felt the blood drain from his face. These were fighting words. In the past, conservative candidates like Fowler could be expected to take a few principled slaps at the Republican Establishment, to project a centrist image to the voters. But this was an overt attack on the very fabric of American society!

  “There are many challenges ahead. The isolationists in my party must realize our nation isn’t Fortress America. We must set an example to the rest of the world and embrace our global responsibilities beyond fighting terrorism. We cannot ask our allies around the globe to do something we ourselves refuse to do. And as far as domestic affairs go, we must use our conservative principles to help the poor and middle class as well as the rich. To implement policies based on limited, efficient government, but not a hatred of government itself. To focus on addressing the problems of all the people, not just on the economy and wellbeing of the richest Americans. With the shining example the late William Kieger has set, I plan to be the one leading the charge. God bless you all, and God bless America.”

  As the crowd burst into applause, Fowler held her hands up in a symbol of victory. Then, with the roar of the crowd swelling to a crescendo, she tilted her head down and beamed fondly at her audience. The camera turned and panned slowly on the faces, revealing a collective adoration that to Locke was nauseating. Even the normally irreverent media representatives appeared delirious with hope for this unconventional, reach-across-the-aisle conservative. Then the camera returned to Fowler. Her expression was resolute, proud, but what came through most was her idealism. It shone through like a full moon on a cloudless night.

  Locke felt the bile rise in his throat. If a liberal Democrat had just uttered these words, she would not have been perceived as bold or extraordinary. But for a Republican, and a supposedly conservative one at that, it was dangerous talk. Anti-American and, worse yet, un-Christian.

  Something has to be done.

  There was no longer a scintilla of doubt Fowler had gone over to the dark side. This was no burst of political passion—it was a declaration of war. The woman had undergone a complete turnaround since the primary. She was on a mission. She genuinely admired Kieger and wanted to carry on his ideals. Already polls showed that most social conservatives were so smitten by her photogenic presence and ability to salve the nation’s wounds that they didn’t even care about her policies. Hell, even a large number of Democrats and Independents were getting excited about her; her favorability rating among these two groups combined was nearly sixty percent!

  How can America ever reclaim her glory with this woman at the helm? Is American exceptionalism going to die here and now or live on for all eternity? Something has to be done. No, something drastic has to be done!

  The crowd gushed forth with adulation, clapping and whistling thunderously. Fulminating inside, Locke stepped quietly from the kitchen and ducked into his office.

  CHAPTER 84

  LOCKE SAT DOWN AT HIS DESK, the anger roiling inside him like a tempest. What could he do to keep this horrible, horrible mistake from taking up residence in the Oval Office?

  The answer came to him not from above, as he had expected, but from the steamy alligator swamps of Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

  When Locke answered the phone, the voice on the other end spoke without introduction, and even through the distortion, there was a musical Dixie undertone that could belong to no other man except Senator Jackson Beauregard Dubois.

  “Did you just see that?”

  “Most of it,” Locke said, and he punched his own voice modulator. “It was a crime against humanity. But what can we do about it?”

  A stone-cold silence.

  An answer unto itself, Locke realized. He had half-expected it to come to this, but he was still surprised. All the same, he had to be sure. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

  “This dog can no longer hunt, Mr. Chairman. We misjudged her and now she’s outgrown her usefulness.”

  “I know. In fact, I’ve known since yesterday.”

  “It’s time to change our strategy. We’ll never get another chance like this. We just placed the bet on the wrong racehorse. I will do the country proud, Mr. Chairman.”

  Lord knows, I don’t want to kill again. But what else can be done? America cannot be allowed to die! “Will the party back you for vice-president?”

  “The way I figure it, it’s between me and Jamison,” said Dubois, referring to popular Louisiana Governor Floyd Jamison. “But I own the tiebreaker since I finished third in the primary.”

  Are you really going to go through with this? “It’s going to take a full court press. And you’ll have to at least pretend to move to the center.”

  “If political expediency calls for it, I can talk the moderate talk and walk the moderate walk.”

  “What about Judiciary? Without you there to control the nomination process, our plans in that regard could be in jeopardy.”

  “Our plans are already in jeopardy. We have to take the chance now while there’s still time. My successor will be McFarland. He’s the next ranking member on the committee. He’s not quite the firebrand I’d like to see stepping into my shoes, but he’ll have to do. His party loyalty hovers at around eighty-seven percent. We could do much worse.”

  Tell me now, Lord, is this truly part of your Plan? “What about the Committee? I take it you want all this to happen without its consent.”

  “I don’t see an alternative. Truscott and the colonel are out to get you like a South Texas wind. Have you heard from them?”

  “They left a few minutes ago.”

  “So you know they’ve contacted the other Committee members and want you to resign as chairman?”

  “Yes. By the way, I appreciate your standing by me. It has been a difficult time for us all.”

  “We can set things right, Mr. Chairman. If I can get the party’s backing, the only way we can lose is if I get caught in bed with a dead girl or a naked boy. And trust me, the Committee will come around once they have one of their own as commander in chief.”

  Locke stroked his chin, appraising the situation, the inherent risks. The Prince of Darkness in the White House. The thought was appealing and yet somewhat terrifying. Beneath the senator’s antebellum charm and professional calm lurked the icy fire of a true zealot, a man who knew no boundaries. But there was no denying his commitment to the cause.

  “Are we in agreement then?” Dubois asked. “You’ll back me. Not just financially, but with your constituency.”

  Forgive me God for what I am about to do. “There’s no decision to make. You are our best hope.”

  “I’m pleased to hear you say that. Now we have to move quickly. Fowler has begun the vice-presidential vetting process and is expected to make her decision by early next week. Don’t worry, I’ll call in a whole passel of favors and get the party’s backing, but we still have to get Frautschi to delay as long as he can.”

  “I don’t think we can count on him anymore.”

  “We have no choice—he’s all we’ve got. There’s also the contract to consider. What are your thoughts?”

  Too late, there’s no turning back now. “It will be difficult, but not impossible.”

  “Can you get in touch with Gomez without the others finding out?”

  Locke opened his desk. He withdrew the business card given secretly to him by Xavier in return for approving the outstanding payment for the Kieger contract. The name on the card read “Jane Halifax,” no doubt an alias. Halifax was only a middlewoman, but Xavier had said she could put Locke in contact
with Gomez. Xavier had said he didn’t mind Locke negotiating with Gomez through Jane Halifax as long as he got his standard twenty percent cut.

  “I can take care of the arrangements,” Locke said. “Of course, it won’t be cheap. But he is the best. If he’ll agree to it, I’d say we have a very good chance of success—especially with the inside assets.”

  “You’re referring to our government friends? The ones used only in a secondary role during Phase One?”

  “Their services would prove invaluable this time around to keep risks to a minimum.”

  “Personally, I’d prefer the matter be settled during the speech in Denver on Saturday, but that might be too ambitious.”

  “I think it might be doable. The inside support will reduce the risks to a considerable degree.”

  “So you’ll take care of it?”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Then we should have a toast.” Dubois paused, heightening the intensity of the moment. “To Phase Four, Mr. Chairman.”

  My God, what have I done? “To Phase Four,” toasted Locke, and he hung up.

  He reached down and picked up the fake business card on his desk, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the tension tearing him up inside. At the same time, it was amazing the awesome power he held. With one phone call, Katherine Fowler would cease to be a problem any longer.

  One phone call.

  And in Fowler’s place would rise one of the Coalition’s very own, a true patriot, a man so overflowing with red, white, and blue that the nation’s glorious rebirth was a fait accompli .

  Locke’s mind was made up: the Chosen One would now give way to the Prince of Darkness. God had willed it so.

  He dialed the number on the card.

  CHAPTER 85

  THIS IS THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE.

  Skyler lay next to Anthony on the bed, tingling as their naked bodies touched. There were no handcuffs, no ropes, not a single tool of human bondage. There were no feelings of anger, hate, or sadistic revenge. This time there was a powerful connection, a sense of profound intimacy; the kind of passion she remembered vaguely from long ago when she was hopelessly enraptured with Alberto.

  She felt like a young adolescent experimenting with sexuality for the first time, swept up in the adventure of pure discovery.

  Outside the window of her apartment, a light rain fell. Puffy gray cumulus clouds shrouded the Los Angeles Basin. The rainfall coming off the moisture-laden nebula was slowly picking up in intensity.

  Skyler moved her body so that she was astride Anthony. Their lips touched softly. She felt desire flowing through her veins, but it was different than before. Her head swam with euphoria.

  “Oh, Anthony,” she whispered in his ear.

  He rolled her over so that he was on top, and though it had been years since she had been beneath a man, she liked it. His tongue reached inside her mouth, softly, and she kissed him back. He began stroking her hair and rubbing against her moist area. She felt a delightful shudder of excitement take hold of her entire body, but it was the emotional connection that truly gripped her. She knew she was tapping into something sacrosanct, something only true lovers felt.

  She kissed his mouth, nibbling his lips gently. A moment later, when he entered her, it was like a perfect dream. Everything about it felt right, natural.

  As they began to move together in a gentle rhythm, she took more and more pleasure in his body, in his kisses and caresses and thrusts.

  Her body was responding with a passion she thought she no longer possessed. All the usual selfishness—and violence—had vanished. Before the thrill of conquering the brutal male animal was what got her off. Now, she was resurrecting glorious emotions that had long ago atrophied.

  I want you to feel what I’m feeling, Anthony.

  She thrust back and forth knowingly, in a gentle rhythm. His hands squeezed her swelling nipples, and she gasped with delight.

  She wondered if it were possible to go insane with pleasure.

  He kissed her on the lips tenderly and she slid her tongue deep into his mouth, clasping his tight buttocks and pulling him deeper inside her. She moaned softly between kisses; she could tell the sound of her voice excited him all the more.

  As the pace quickened, the air filled with desperation. She felt herself letting loose with excitement, coming as never before. She sensed that he too was about to let go of his seed.

  “Look into my eyes,” she gasped, pulling him still deeper.

  He pulled his head up and his eyes locked onto hers. “I’m looking, I’m looking!”

  She stared at him mesmerically, her eyes as wide as pebbles as the climax came. They held each other’s gaze as their bodies shook fitfully and she felt his warmth flowing inside her. Then suddenly tears streamed from her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, worriedly. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she cried.

  “Are you upset? What...what happened?”

  “I’m overwhelmed, Anthony. I’m overwhelmed with joy.”

  CHAPTER 86

  AFTERWARDS, THEY LAY IN BED for fifteen minutes—idly hugging, kissing, nibbling, stroking—before her coded mobile rang. Skyler debated whether to get up and answer the call, but it might be Xavier with another message so she decided to grab it. By working directly with Benjamin Locke, her control agent had managed to recover the outstanding payment for the Kieger contract. Her cut had been wired into her numbered Swiss account only this morning, which was yet another reason she was so happy.

  Anthony gave a look of mock hurt and held onto her hand as she slipped from the bed. She threw him a playful smile, then gently pulled herself from his grasp and picked up the mobile from the side table. She said nothing into the mouthpiece, letting the voice on the other end speak first.

  “Hello?” The voice was electronically distorted. “I...I’d like to speak to Ms. Halifax. Ms. Jane Halifax.”

  She wedged the phone in the crook of her shoulder and reached for the terrycloth bathrobe hanging from the chair next to the bed. “Who is calling, please?” she asked quietly.

  “This is Benjamin Locke. Mr. Xavier gave me your number, as a courtesy. I take it today’s financial settlement worked out to your associate Mr. Gomez’s satisfaction?”

  How is he changing his voice? A distortion box? “Please hold on a moment.”

  Anthony looked up at her expectantly. “I can go in the other room if you’d like.”

  She covered the mouthpiece and threw him a playful smile. “No, stay here and keep the bed warm. I’m not finished with you yet.”

  “That’s what I like, an offer I can’t refuse,” he said with a smile before reaching for the Los Angeles Times on the side table, like a man without a worry in the world.

  Skyler fastened the belt of her terrycloth robe about her waist. Then she went to the door, closed it behind her, and walked into the kitchen. “Is this line secure?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Locke replied.

  She leaned against the refrigerator. “What is your business, then?”

  “I have another proposition for your Mr. Gomez. It’s a delicate assignment, which is why I’m not going through the normal channels.”

  “Why should he trust you?”

  “Because I’m willing to make a substantial non-refundable down payment to secure his services. All Mr. Xavier insists upon is that he gets his standard cut.”

  “How substantial a down payment?”

  “Two million even.”

  Skyler felt a shudder of raw fear. Two million dollars meant the mark was very important and, therefore, heavily guarded. But what an opportunity! The past few days she had given serious thought to quitting the game altogether and now perhaps this was her chance. When added to her current savings, the amount Locke was offering her—even minus Xavier’s twenty percent cut—would certainly allow her to retire in comfort.

  “Keep talking,” she said. She hated to admit it, but the prospective assignm
ent excited her. It dawned on her how much more difficult it would be to quit than she had anticipated. She would miss the meticulous planning, the adrenaline rush of the hunt, the thrill of outsmarting the authorities.

  “I’ll need to go over the contractual details with Mr. Gomez directly.”

  “That won’t be possible. You talk to me or you don’t talk to anyone.”

  She listened to the sound of his distorted breathing over the phone as he considered her conditions.

  “Very well,” Locke acceded. “The target is the current president-elect. The price is three million. Two million in advance, as I’ve alluded to.”

  Fowler! I should have known. Then the harsh reality of the crazy scheme came crashing down on her. It would be a suicide mission. The protection detail for the new president-elect would be several times what it had been a week ago for Kieger. And Fowler was a woman and Skyler didn’t kill women.

  “You can’t be serious,” she countered. “The chances of even getting into position are a thousand to one.”

  “Not if the assignment is handled in Denver on Saturday.”

  “You’re referring to the planned speech in the plaza.”

  “Precisely. The same personnel made available to Mr. Gomez last Sunday will be available on Saturday. Now I realize he chose to handle the assignment in his own way last time, but it seems to me the available assets could prove quite useful this time around. To reduce the risks to, shall we say, an acceptable level. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Skyler didn’t answer. Already she was thinking back to last Sunday afternoon. From the beginning, there had been two plans. The first plan, what Skyler referred to as Plan A, had been put together by the men who had hired her and had been available for her to follow at her discretion. The plan had called for using an inside government team and taking the shot from the Denver Tribune Tower, roughly 500 yards from the speakers’ platform. As the fictional Mr. Gomez’s representative, Skyler had received a detailed package on the plan from a discrete field contact. But she had opted not to follow the script for Plan A.