by John Holt
On that last round Mackenzie was trailing so far back, he remembered, that he wasn’t even going to come in second. He laughed at his joke. Joke or not he was a long way behind. It was hopeless. Mackenzie was resigned. There was no way he could make up the ground. He was going to lose, and lose badly. Well so be it, it didn’t really matter. Not that much anyway. The better man had won, that was all. Charles will make a great President. Perhaps the greatest this Country has ever had. He will get my full support, Mackenzie thought. Then the unthinkable happened. Support started to grow steadily, and the gap narrowed. Mackenzie was suddenly within striking distance. There was still some work to do, but there was now a realistic chance of actually winning. And then Charles Davies had suddenly withdrawn from the contest completely.
It was a surprise to everyone, not least of all to Mackenzie himself. It had come completely out of the blue, and there was no apparent reason. Something vague was announced, but it didn’t make any sense. There was something about health problems, and wanting to spend more time with the family. Mackenzie was surprised, and amazed. There was nothing wrong with Charles’ health. He was as fit as could be. He looked after himself, worked out at the gymnasium, played tennis, played golf. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink to excess. No. There wasn’t a thing wrong with him.
I’m the one who ought to have the health problems, Mackenzie thought. He never took any exercise, or played any sport. The only exercise he ever got was sitting on a yacht, with a line dangled over the side, a martini sitting on the adjacent table. The only physical thing he did was to reach over and lift the glass. Why he never even went out for a walk, except to the car, and back. He vowed that would change as soon as this election was over. Then things would be different, just wait and see. As for Charles spending more time with the family, that didn’t make much sense either. With Charles his family was paramount. They came first. They were always there. Any function that he attended, any place that he visited, his family went with him whenever possible. No, the excuses given made no sense, no sense at all.
Mackenzie remembered speaking to Duncan about it at the time. Duncan had just said that Charles presumably knew best, and that it wasn’t for them to question his decision. “You should just grasp the opportunity presented to you with both hands.” And that was that. Mackenzie had said that he might just speak to Davies. “Oh I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Duncan. “I’m sure Charles knows what he is doing. He wouldn’t appreciate being pestered, people butting their nose in where it wasn’t wanted. No he wouldn’t like that. He has obviously given the matter a lot of thought. Now he’s made his mind up, and that should be good enough. After all it is his decision. He wouldn’t take kindly to any outside interference would he?”
So that was an end to it. A few days later Mackenzie received a short note from Charles Davies, wishing him well, and offering his full support. Mackenzie was up and running on the campaign trail. He had the Party’s nomination. Now he had to convince the electorate, the American public.
* * *
Senator John T Mackenzie felt good. He felt very good. It had been very late when he had arrived home the previous evening, after the meeting, but he had not been a bit tired. He was far too excited. He had hardly slept the entire night. The events of the previous evening just went through his mind, over and over again. It was hard to take it all in. So much had happened. It had been a truly great evening. Great was too small a word for it. It had been a fabulous evening. Now, the sun was shining, and there was a clear blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. It was going to be a beautiful, glorious day. He couldn’t have felt any better if he had tried. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this good in his entire life.
The meeting the previous evening had gone really well. You could feel the excitement, the electricity, the buzz. It was so tangible you could almost touch it. He was very pleased with himself. He had done well. Couldn’t have gone any better, he murmured. He had met a lot of people, a lot of important people. There were people with power, and people with money. Then there were people with both. There were people with influence. There were people who could be of real help to him. There were people who could do things for him. There were people who could open certain doors for him, people who could pave the way to opportunity. The sky was the limit.
That crowd had been so enthusiastic. They had cheered everything he had said. He laughed. They would have cheered anything, whatever it had been. “In fact they did.” He couldn’t believe it. It seemed like everyone was coming up to him. Everyone wanted to know him, to be part of him. They all wanted to meet the next President. Just to be close; patting him on the shoulder, touching his arm, shaking his hand. Just to stand next to him.
“Well done, Senator,” said one. “We’re with you, all the way,” said another. “Good job,” said a third.
Who they were he didn’t know, he didn’t much care. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was their support. Oh, and their checkbooks, of course. It just couldn’t have gone any better. It was just perfect. Not a hitch. Just like clockwork, as Ian would say. He was on his way, next stop the White House. There wasn’t anyone to touch him. No one even came close. There was just no competition. The race was all over bar the shouting, and the outcome was a certainty. He would be the next President of the United States. Nothing, and no one, could stop him. Not now.
He started to laugh again. “The President of the United States of America,” he announced. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome, President John T Mackenzie.” That sounded really good. It was just so unbelievable. He said it over and over again. It sounded better and better each time. He couldn’t wait to see what the press had to say about it.
There was a tap on the door. Mackenzie looked up. Then there came a second tap, and the door opened. In walked Thomas, the Butler. He had a huge grin spread across his face. “The newspapers have arrived, Senator,” he said, as he walked towards the table, carrying a large bundle in his arms. He placed the newspapers down, and then spent a few moments arranging them neatly. The headlines said it all, confirming everything that Mackenzie had thought. “May I offer you my congratulations too, sir,” said Thomas.
Mackenzie started to laugh. “You certainly may, Thomas,” he said. “You certainly may.” He stood up and faced Thomas. “Thomas,” he said stretching out his hand. “Let me introduce you to, the President of the United States, John T Mackenzie.”
Thomas took the hand and shook it firmly. “I am very pleased to meet you, Mister President.” Both men laughed. “Should I start packing your things for the White House just yet?” Thomas asked as he started to walk away.
Mackenzie sat down again. As he did so he called back to Thomas. “Tomorrow will do. And don’t forget your own things,” Mackenzie said. “You will be coming with me, you know. I couldn’t go without you, could I?”
“I’m already packed, sir. Have been for weeks,” Thomas replied, as he turned and left the room.
Mackenzie looked down at the pile of newspapers. He reached over and picked up the first newspaper, the Rosemont Gazette, from the pile. “Mackenzie Strides On” was the banner headline. Underneath a second headline simply said, “Government Health Warning to our readers. He could do it.”
Mackenzie laughed loudly. The Gazette did not like him. The newspaper had never liked him from the very beginning. In fact they had campaigned vigorously against him. But even they had to admit that he was doing well.
So they didn’t like him. What about it? He didn’t like them. He didn’t like their politics. He didn’t like their views. They did, however, have a great sense of humor. In the bottom right hand corner was a cartoon strip showing a group of White House security staff vigorously checking everyone who was coming in. They were opening their cases, checking their passes, carefully searching them. There, walking through the crowd, completely unchallenged, was Mackenzie. One security officer turns to another. He points towards Mackenzie, and says “It seems that they will let just about anyone in here t
hese days.” Mackenzie started to laugh. He had to admit that it was very clever, and very funny. He carefully tore it from the page. That was one for the scrapbook he decided. He would contact the Editor later and request a framed copy. It would look good in the Oval Office. “They’ll be delighted to supply it.”
He picked up the second newspaper from the pile, the Daily Globe. Much of the front page was taken up by the results of a poll that had been undertaken during the previous week. Fifty three percent supported Mackenzie; thirty two percent were against him; and fifteen percent were undecided. Although he knew that figures like that meant very little, and could change dramatically overnight, it was still a good indication.
He then picked up the next newspaper, the Sentinel. There emblazoned across the front page were four words in extra large type. “MACKENZIE TAKES THE LEAD.” He placed it back down on to the table. He had certainly taken the lead. Of that there was no doubt. He was way out in front. He started to shuffle through the rest of the newspapers. The headlines all basically said the same thing. Then he saw the one he wanted, the Herald. “WHITE HOUSE HERE I COME,” it boldly announced. He liked the sound of that one. Underneath the banner was a head and shoulders photograph. Not one of his better ones, but still not too bad.
He started to read the report. “At a meeting last night, Senator John Mackenzie showed that he was ready, and able to take charge.” He looked up from the newspaper. He was definitely ready. He was ready, willing and able. He looked back at the newsprint and continued to read.
The telephone rang. He picked up the handset. “Pres ….” He stopped himself. “John Mackenzie,” he said. It was Ian Duncan. “Ian, great to hear from you,” he said enthusiastically. “Have you seen the papers? It’s looking real …”
“I’ve seen them,” was the brusque reply.
Mackenzie was taken aback momentarily. “Well what do you think?” he asked. “Pretty good eh?”
“You were all right,” replied Duncan. “Let us say you were reasonable, possibly, nothing more than that. Your performance was just passable, barely adequate.”
Mackenzie could not understand Duncan’s attitude. “Ian, you don’t sound wildly pleased,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “I thought that you would be delighted. I mean I’m on my way. We are on our way. Next stop the White House, the Presidency. That’s what the papers all say.”
“You haven’t won yet,” Duncan snapped.
“There’s no stopping us, not now,” Mackenzie replied nervously. “So what’s the problem?”
“You’re the problem,” Duncan replied tersely. “You’ve always been the problem.”
Mackenzie was stunned. What had he done? Why was Duncan acting like this? What was he saying? “I don’t understand, Ian. What’s the trouble?” he asked, nervously, hesitantly. “What did I do wrong?”
There was a long silence. “Mackenzie, you did your own thing last night, that’s what you did wrong,” Duncan responded. “You did not follow instructions, and do what I told you to do.” There was another long silence. “Do not take me for a fool, Mackenzie. Mark me well. I warn you.” He paused for a moment. “Don’t you ever think for one moment that you can manage without me, because, frankly you can’t.” There was another long silence. “Remember one thing. You need me. I do not need you.” The phone went dead.
The blood drained from Mackenzie’s face. His breathing became labored. He felt hot, and dizzy. He was suddenly afraid, very afraid. He remembered that he had felt that way once before, many years ago, back in college. Almost identical things had been said then he remembered.
* * *
It had been Duncan then as well. The conversation had been almost exactly the same all of those years ago. But why, what had happened then. All Mackenzie knew was that he hadn’t done something that Duncan had wanted him to do. Or, maybe he had done something that Duncan hadn’t wanted. Or he had simply done something wrong. He couldn’t quite remember, but Duncan had warned him then about doing his own thing.
“What’s the problem?” Duncan had said. “What’s the problem? You are the problem, as always.”
Mackenzie could not believe what he was hearing. What had he done? What had happened? “I don’t understand, Ian,” he said. “What’s wrong? What have I done?”
There was a long silence. “Mackenzie, as usual you did your own thing,” Duncan had responded. “You did not follow my instructions. You thought perhaps you could manage without me.” There was another long silence. “Well you can’t. Do not take me for a fool, Mackenzie. Mark me well. I warn you.” He slammed the receiver down.
Two of Duncan’s associates had paid Mackenzie a visit later that evening. Pushed him around a little, roughed him up a bit. They had promised to come back if needed. They would not be so friendly the next time.
When questioned about it Duncan denied any involvement whatsoever. “John, how could you possibly think that of me,” he said indignantly. “Do you honestly think I would go in for that sort of thing? I can’t believe it.” He had even offered to help to find the people concerned, and ensure that they were rightly punished. Regrettably, after extensive inquiries Duncan had not been able to discover the people, and the search was called off. Duncan had apologized profusely. “I’m sorry John,” he had said. “I’ve let you down.”
Mackenzie had merely turned and walked away. He knew that Duncan was lying. He knew that Duncan was the guilty party. He also knew that there was nothing he could do about it. Not unless he wanted two broken legs.
* * *
The telephone rang again. Mackenzie just stared at it. His heart was beating fast, and sweat was forming on his brow. Was Duncan ringing again? What now, more threats? More insults? He turned away as though that would stop the ringing. The ringing did not stop. With each ring it sounded louder. He lunged at the handset and picked it up. It was Reynolds.
“I just had to call you,” Reynolds said. “And offer my congratulations. Add them to all of the rest. You were great last night, just great. And the newspapers, well what can you say.” There was a pause. Mackenzie said nothing. “Has Ian been on yet? What did he have to say? I can imagine. I bet he was well pleased wasn’t he?”
“Oh,” Mackenzie said hesitantly. “He had quite a lot to say.”
“Well John,” Reynolds continued enthusiastically. “You’re on your way. Next stop 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the White House. Nothing can stop you now. How does it feel, er, Mr. President?”
Mackenzie said nothing. After that call from Duncan, he was no longer feeling so confident. He knew that if he reached the White House at all it would be because of Duncan. He also knew that if he so chose, Duncan could prevent him from getting anywhere near to the place, even now, at this late stage of the race. “Fine,” he said quite simply. “I feel fine.”
Reynolds laughed loudly. “Fine indeed, that’s some kind of understatement if ever I heard one, right.” The laughter increased. He had difficulty in continuing. “I’ll ring you later,” he stuttered, and hung up.
Mackenzie continued holding the phone, staring into the distance. Duncan could certainly change things if he wanted to. Make no mistake about that. Duncan was ruthless, and dangerous. He could drop me just like that, anytime he liked.
What was it that Duncan had said? “You need me. I do not need you.” Mackenzie sat in silence for a while. That was certainly true. Why would he need me? Mackenzie asked himself. He could choose any one of a dozen or more Senators, and build them up. It wouldn’t matter to Duncan who it was, as long as they became President.
Somehow he had to change the situation. Somehow he had to ensure that Duncan did need him. He needed some kind of control over Duncan, to redress the balance somehow, to even things up a little. He needed some kind of insurance policy that he could use, just in case Duncan did decide to act against him. Not exactly blackmail you understand, but. Oh, all right, blackmail it is. But what form was it to take, he wondered. He needed some information that could be used agai
nst him, if the occasion arose.
“So what do I know about Ian Duncan?” he asked. More to the point what did he know that would be useful? And that he could prove?
* * *
A little over two hours later The Mackenzie Dossier had been prepared, in outline at least. The buff colored folder contained every shred of information Mackenzie could think of that concerned Duncan. Everything was included, no matter how trivial or unimportant it seemed. Everything he knew about Duncan, from the very first time that they had met, had been written down. It was quite comprehensive.
He read through it once again, as he did so he made notations here and there. Nothing had been left out. Much of it was, however, un-substantiated, and pure conjecture on his part. Perhaps he should take some things out. It was not exactly what he had in mind, but it was a start. He realized that it was insufficient. In fact, it was totally inadequate, and it contained nothing of any real significance. At least nothing that would be of any major concern to Duncan. Vague comments regarding the bullying tactics he had used at college, and that was about it. There was nothing that could be proved, nothing significant. The rest concerned itself with things like Duncan’s power, and greed, and his ambitious nature.
He read it through one more time. He was disappointed. It was of no real value other than providing background information. Of course blackmail was not really one of Mackenzie’s talents. He wasn’t used to that sort of thing. He was totally unsure as to what type of information he actually needed, or indeed, where to find it. He would just have to keep looking, to keep searching, that was all. He just knew that he had to find something.