by Jason Pinter
Then Remy ran as fast as he could towards the Manhattan end of the bridge. As he neared the exit ramp, he took out his cell phone and dialed Alena.
She picked up on the third ring.
“Alena,” he said, breathless and petrified. “They tried to kill me.”
The crowd outside of Griggs Tower had grown to at least a thousand. Cops, supporters, protestors, reporters. The whole block was cordoned off by metal gates, and inside those gates stood a dozen dump trucks, parked bumper-to-bumper to prevent anyone from driving up with a car bomb.
With the presidential frontrunner living right smack in the middle of midtown Manhattan, half the city was closed off. Traffic was a mess. One of the city’s most visited landmarks was being guarded like Fort Knox.
Which was why, as they pushed through the maelstrom around the Castle, Alena Griggs and Remy Stanton went almost unnoticed until they approached the lobby. That was when someone yelled, “That’s Alena Griggs! Oh my god, and she’s with Jeremy Stanton!”
The crowd began to surge forward to get a better look. Camera phones came out. The crowd clearly realized that Remy entering the Castle with the daughter of the man whose campaign he had resigned from was a pretty big deal.
Everyone could tell something was very wrong. Stanton looked angry. Alena looked scared. Remy appeared to be pushing Alena Griggs, forcing her to enter the Castle. People began to speculate that he had kidnapped her, that maybe this kid was really unstable like Rawson Griggs had said.
“Something’s wrong with the Griggs gal,” one man remarked. “I get the feeling she really didn’t want to be with that Stanton kid. I hope he doesn’t hurt her.”
It took less than ten seconds before everything on the 53rd floor went haywire. Alena Griggs stepped out of the private elevator, Remy Stanton at her back. The first person to see them was Jerry Kapinski.
“Alena…it’s so good to see you, how have…Jeremy, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“We’re here to see Rawson,” Remy said. His hand was at Alena’s back. He was pushing her down the corridor.
“Just let us in to see my father,” Alena said, her voice trembling. “Just do what Jeremy says.”
Kapinski took out his cell phone. Remy only had moments before security arrived.
They continued down the hallway. Dozens of staffers came out of their offices to see what was going on. As they approached Rawson Griggs’s office, Kenneth Murphy stepped into the hall.
“Can’t let you in there, Jeremy,” he said. “You need to leave. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Remy said, not even trying to hide the rage in his voice. “You tell that son of a bitch he has to answer to me. Now. Step aside, Ken, or someone’s getting hurt.”
Murphy saw that Remy was holding onto Alena. He looked like he might be dangerous. Murphy stepped aside. Remy opened the door to Rawson’s office. He pushed Alena forward and closed it behind them. Rawson was sitting behind his desk. He stood up, calm. He looked from his daughter, over to Remy, and back.
“Speak, before I tear your head from your neck,” he said. “Alena, are you alright?”
Alena nodded. “I’m okay.”
Remy laughed. “Decapitation? That’s a little messier than burying me somewhere near Fort Lee.”
“You’re a sick, demented little man,” Rawson spat. “You betrayed me and you disgraced yourself. And now you bring my daughter here as, what, some cowardly show of force?”
“You told me once that I was a lion,” Remy said.
Rawson laughed. “You’re a sheep, Jeremy. You always were.”
Rawson came around the corner of his desk faster than Remy believed a man his size could. And before he knew what was happening, Rawson’s massive hands were around Remy’s throat. He heard Alena gasp. Rawson pushed Remy backwards until he hit the wall with a thud.
Rawson’s fingers dug into the soft flesh under Remy’s chin, cutting into his throat.
“Dad, stop!” Alena cried.
“You would stand up for him, this misfit?” Rawson said, looking at Alena, confused.
Rawson’s grip was like iron. Less like someone who pushed paper and signed checks than someone who hoisted the very marble and concrete into the buildings adorned with his name. His strength again surprised Remy. Painfully so.
“Just in case you get any ideas like your friends in the van,” Remy said, struggling to speak, “fifteen minutes ago I posted on social media that I’d be coming here to see you. Oh, and a whole lot of people outside snapped our picture when we entered the Castle. So if your security guards decide to get frisky, it’s public knowledge that this is the last place I was seen. So be careful, Mr. President.”
Rawson released his grip and shoved Remy back against the door. Then he returned to his desk and sat down.
Remy massaged his throat.
“If you’re done with your sad little power trip,” Rawson said, “get the fuck out of my building.”
“Not before you answer for Paul Bracewell,” Remy said.
Rawson narrowed his eyes and said, with just a split second hesitation, “What in god’s name are you talking about?”
“You murdered Paul,” Remy said. “You tried to have Nogoyev and Usenov do it for you, but I got in the way. Sorry about that. Everyone assumed they were terrorists or radicals. But really, they were just getting rid of Paul after he found out that you’re the Manchurian fucking Candidate. Paul was feeding info to Doug Rimbaud. About your properties. About GazProm. He knew you were practically bankrupt. Paul was a loose cannon. And big dick Rawson Griggs couldn’t have that. So you had Costanzo’s goons dump him in the river. Maybe Costanzo even did it himself, so the old dog could prove he still had some fight left in him.”
“You’re insane,” Rawson said. “Alena, this man is demented.”
“Paul was your daughter’s husband,” Remy said. “And you threw him away like a candy wrapper.”
“Dad,” Alena said, her voice soft, fragile, “what is he talking about?”
“Absolutely nothing. Jeremy is clearly a sick man. I should have left you in that dead-end job to have a dead-end life to be a nothing just like you were always meant to be. I gave you purpose, I saved you from mediocrity, and you spat in my family’s face.”
“And you’re a murderer,” Remy seethed. “Because Paul found out the truth. You’re going to turn Washington into the Kremlin West. You stand to make billions and billions from Eastern oil exports. You would have been one rich bastard.”
“I already am,” Rawson said coolly.
“But there’s always more,” Remy replied. “Right?”
“Alena,” Rawson said, “I’m sorry for allowing this man to poison our lives. He should have never been allowed near you. It ends today. I’m having you thrown in prison, and I promise you won’t leave standing up.”
“Just like Dastan Nogoyev,” Remy said. “We both know you had him killed. But you couldn’t find Alexay Usenov to shut him up too, right? And then he bombed your building in retribution for your killing his friend. Your daughter was a hundred feet away when that bomb went off.”
“This is beyond ludicrous.”
The office door opened and three burly men wearing suits and earpieces came in. They averaged about six foot two, two hundred forty pounds, and looked to get the most out of their gym memberships.
“Your private Mr. Olympia team doesn’t change anything,” Remy said. He reached into his pocket and tossed a piece of paper on the floor in front of Alena. “She’ll want to see that.”
Alena knelt down, picked up the paper, and began to read.
“Get him out of here,” Rawson said, smiling politely. “But do it gently. We don’t want to harm this special little snowflake. At least not yet.”
“Go to hell, Rawson,” Remy said as the guards dragged him out of the office. Remy looked at Alena. He mouthed the words I’m sorry.
Once Remy was gone, Murphy entered the office, tentatively, and shut the door.
“You okay, boss?” he said. He noticed Alena standing in the corner. She was reading the paper that Remy had dropped. “Boss?”
“Yes? What? I’m fine. Everything is fine. Brief interruption. We’re still planning to fly out to Colorado later today.”
“The Denver Coliseum is ready for us, sir,” Murphy said. “Eleven thousand people waiting. Kapinski says the line started forming yesterday.”
“Good,” Rawson said. He looked over at his daughter, noticed she was engrossed in the paper Remy had dropped. Murphy took the hint.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Murphy said, and he left.
“Alena?” Rawson said. He stood up slowly. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
She did not respond. Her eyes were glued to the paper.
“Alena? What is that?”
Rawson came around the desk. He took the paper from Alena’s hands. She let him have it.
“What is…”
“Is it true?” Alena said.
“Is what true?”
“Did you kill my husband?”
“Alena, that’s absurd,” Rawson said. “Jeremy is a crazy person. You heard those ravings. He’s a lunatic.”
“Read that,” she said. “It’s the draft of a story that Grace Rivas is running tomorrow in the Gazette. It says you spent two billion dollars buying a stake in GazProm. That you were worth nothing on paper. They claim to have a copy of your tax returns and that your accountant confirmed its authenticity. It also says Paul was funneling information to Annabelle Shaw’s campaign because he found out about this and wanted to stop you. Is that true?”
“Alena, I love you with all my heart. This is madness. I won’t discuss it.”
“Is it true, Dad?” she shouted. Alena pushed her father, who teetered back on his heels, shocked. His daughter had never laid a hand on him. He stammered.
“My business is large and complicated and has been for years, you know that,” Rawson said. “I won’t discuss these matters with you.”
“They have proof you’ve been dealing with Kyrgyzstani officials for twenty years. That you were paid half a million dollars for a speech there. The men who tried to kill Paul and me, the man who bombed your building when I was there to support you, were from that country. So please don’t stand there and tell me this is none of my business. The Griggs name has been my business from the moment I was born. You made it my business. I never had a choice. Are we broke, Dad? Where is all the money for this campaign coming from?”
“Trust me, Alena, you want no part of this,” Rawson said. “Go home. Mourn your husband, and then move on. Like I mourned your mother. I did so and then moved on. In a few months, you and I will have the world and none of this will matter.”
“Answer me,” Alena said. “Did you kill Paul?”
“Alena, please.”
“All this, this campaign, for what? More money? Power? You were working with murderers while I had to sleep in the bed where my husband used to be? You chose this over your family?”
“You are my family,” Rawson said. “Since your mother died, you have been my only family. Paul was never a part of our family. You and I both know that. He may have been your husband, but he was never one of us.”
“That was a choice you made,” she said. “You never let Paul in. You never wanted him.”
“When your child makes a mistake,” Rawson said, “it is a father’s duty to correct that mistake.”
“Fathers don’t talk like that,” Alena said. “You don’t get to direct my life. I don’t care how many millions and billions you make. I don’t care whether you win this election. You are not god. You do not decide life and death.”
“I decide what is best for me. For us. I always have. And I’ve always been right. Every time. Your husband was a snake,” Rawson said. “He sided against us.”
“What did you do, Dad?” Alena said, pleading. She shouted, “What did you do?”
“I did what I had to do to save us. To save this campaign. To save you.”
“That’s bullshit,” Alena said. “This was never about the campaign or about me. It’s always been about you. I never cared about all the people you burned over the years because they weren’t my family. I looked away. I always took your side. I defended you at your worst. But Paul saw something I didn’t. And so you decided he was dangerous. You didn’t want him coming to those meetings because you knew he was working for Shaw. Jeremy messed up your plan the first time. But you got a second shot. And you took it.”
“Alena…”
“I want to hear you say it. As my father. As the man who gave me away at my wedding. As the man who heard me say ‘’til death do us part,’ and then decided it was up to him to decide when that would be. I need to hear you say it.”
“Alena…”
“Say it!”
Rawson nodded. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. Alena began to tremble. She had never seen her father cry.
“Say it,” she said again, softly, pleading.
“Paul was going to destroy everything,” Rawson said. “I couldn’t let that happen.”
“So you tried to have him killed that night near our apartment. And when that went bad, you had Costanzo’s goons pick him up when he was drunk outside the Hyatt. And, what, they made him keep drinking until he blacked out? Then they dumped him in the water like garbage? Is that what happened? Is that what you did?”
“Yes,” Rawson said.
Alena’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She choked back a sob, tears flowing down her cheeks.
“I need to hear you say it,” she said. “I need to hear you say that’s what you did.”
“That’s what I did,” Rawson said, his voice shaking. “But it was all for you.”
Alena seemed to sink inward, her body folding into itself as she doubled over. Sobs wracked her body.
“I did it for you,” he said. “For our family. Our future.”
“You destroyed my family,” Alena said. “You did it for you. You ruined my future.”
Rawson shook his head violently. “Paul would have destroyed our family’s future.”
“So your solution was to kill him?” Alena cried. “I buried my husband thinking I’d done something wrong, that’d I’d driven him away. Our last words to each other were hateful and angry. I never had a chance to tell him I was sorry because you took him away before I could. You would have let me live with that my whole life. Seeing me in pain was better than admitting the truth. Why? What could possibly be more important?”
“I’m going to change the world,” Rawson said. “Once I’m in the White House, I can usher in a new era for this country. I have a plan in place to create a global economy like the world has never seen.”
“Save your stump speech for the road,” Alena said.
“There are a million men like Paul. He could have brought all of this down, and you know better than anyone I couldn’t allow him to do that. I love you. But think about all the people whose lives will get better. We will break down walls that have been in place for decades. Centuries.”
“None of that is worth killing for,” Alena said.
“It’s all worth killing for. Nobody ever changed the world without doing things that other people wouldn’t,” Rawson said. “And yes, once my term is up, and I’m an old man, you will be set for life. You will find love again. You will marry again and have children, and those children and their children will live in a better world. They will have more money than they can dream of. What I’m doing now—I will give people a gift that will resonate for generations.”
“The only gift I wanted, you stole from me.”
“It can be replaced,” Rawson said. “Everything can be replaced.”
Alena shook her head. Rawson went to his daughter. He held out his arms. She pressed her hand against his chest, holding him back.
“Please,” Rawson said. “You are my child. You are part of me.”
With each sob, Ra
wson seemed to shrink. Alena let her hands drop. Rawson wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her in his bear-like frame. He held her close, this woman, this girl. His baby girl. Now and always.
“I’m sorry, Alena,” he whispered. “This will all be fine in time. I promise.”
Alena pushed her father away gently and looked into his eyes. She had never seen him cry. Not when she graduated high school or college. Not when Liliana died. Not at her wedding. For a moment, it broke her.
“I’m sorry too, Dad.”
Rawson managed a smile. “Alena, what could you possibly be sorry for?”
She looked down, at her suit jacket, at the gorgeous circular gold brooch with the gemstone in the center.
Rawson looked at it, seemed to admire its beauty and craftsmanship. Then his eyes narrowed. He reached out and took the piece in his hand. It was not real gold. He pulled it gently.
And that was when Rawson saw that the gemstone was not a stone at all. A thin wire protruded from the back of the piece, trailing down into the inseam of Alena’s jacket. He saw his own reflection in the dark gloss of the stone, which he now saw was a small camera. And then, too late, he realized what Alena and Jeremy had done.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, weeping. “I’m so sorry.”
Rawson stood up, extending his full height and girth. He took a step back.
“Alena,” he said.
“Dad…”
And he said simply, “I understand.”
The office door burst open and half a dozen men and women wearing FBI jackets entered. They surrounded Rawson Griggs. Alena stepped back, plastered herself against the wall. One of the agents stepped forward.
“Rawson Griggs,” he said. “Agent D’Antoni. We met before. When your son-in-law—cough—died. It is my absolute pleasure to say that you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder. And something tells me that’ll be far from the last charge.”
Two agents pushed Rawson against his desk and handcuffed him behind his back.
“Dad, I’m so sorry,” Alena said.