Red, White, and Blood

by Christopher Farnsworth

  “What? What’s going on?”

  Cade looked at the message again.

  “Apparently, the rules of the game have just changed.”

  An ideal form of government is democracy tempered with assassination.

  —Voltaire

  OVAL OFFICE, WASHINGTON, D.C.

  With all due respect, sir, are you out of your mind?”

  The president raised an eyebrow. This would ordinarily be enough to shut Zach up, but not today.

  However, Dan Lanning, the president’s campaign manager, was more vocal in his displeasure.

  “Barrows, I’ve got no idea what you’re doing back,” Lanning snapped, “but I’m sure as shit not going to take advice from a snot-nose who was fired from his last job at the White House.”

  That stung a bit, even if it was true as far as the world knew. His cover story had him resigning under pressure from his former post as deputy director of political affairs.

  “Zach is going to be consulting on the campaign,” Curtis said.

  “Oh, well, now we’re saved,” Lanning said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, it’s not unusual for the opposition to send in a spy. They usually pick someone who was fired. Who might have a grudge. Somebody who needs the money.”

  “Dan,” Curtis said, a warning tone in his voice. “Zach’s loyalty is not a question.”

  Lanning frowned and turned to Cade. “And I don’t even know who the fuck you are, let alone what you’re doing in this meeting.”

  Cade didn’t respond. Lanning seemed to realize something was off about him and looked away. Zach was impressed he’d been able to hold eye contact with Cade for as long as he did.

  But then, Lanning was a throwback to a tougher time. He’d been friends with the president since Curtis’s days in the Illinois state legislature. He ran Curtis’s first campaigns for the Senate and the White House, then left for the private sector just before Zach started working with Cade. For a while, Lanning made insane amounts of money as a regular guest on the cable shoutfests. Now he was back, and everyone knew why. Every pundit in Washington wondered if he still had the ability to claw four more years out of the voters for Curtis.

  The two men could not have been more opposite. President Curtis was always impeccably dressed; Lanning rumpled a suit ten minutes after he put it on. In private, the president was cerebral, reserved, and cool to the point of being cold. Lanning was given to shouting even when he was in a good mood. Zach had been on the receiving end of a few of Lanning’s ass-chewings back in the day. They were epic sagas of righteous fury and perfectly applied touches of profanity. It was like being verbally disemboweled. And they were all the worse because Lanning was rarely ever wrong.

  But Zach wasn’t about to be intimidated by Lanning now. After three years working with a vampire, someone yelling at him just didn’t carry the same jolt of fear anymore.

  And given what they were planning forty minutes earlier, Zach was pretty sure Lanning was going to get Curtis killed.

  _____

  FORTY MINUTES EARLIER:

  Zach and Cade had arrived and been escorted into a campaign meeting in the Oval. (Every president walked a fine line when it was time to start campaigning. There were laws and regulations prohibiting the use of government facilities for campaign purposes, but exceptions for White House political appointees. The president couldn’t really just pick up and leave the White House every time he wanted to talk politics. But as hypersensitive as voters were to even a hint of corruption, Curtis and his team had to be very careful. In light of that, the Curtis campaign reimbursed the White House kitchen $75 for coffee and muffins. God forbid the media find out the taxpayers bought muffins again.)

  Zach wanted to tell the president immediately what they’d found and about the e-mail. (He had some concerns about why Cade was apparently Facebook friends with the patron saint of serial killers, but he’d put those aside.) However, they had entered the room just in time to hear Lanning start talking.

  “All our polling has us dead even with Seabrook,” he said. “The prick has been hammering us as elitist and out of touch. We retreat into the White House and he’ll tell everyone we’re scared of the voters. As if he’s the great voice of the common man. The guy was born with a silver dick in his mouth.”

  Everyone laughed. Lanning’s foul mouth always managed to cheer people up.

  “So we are going to take that stick away and beat him with it.”

  Then Lanning unveiled a five-state bus tour into the Heartland. Most of these states were deep red on the electoral map—considered locks for Seabrook and the Republicans.

  That was the point, Lanning said. Curtis would arrive, do the grip-and-grin with voters who were unfriendly at best and openly hostile at worst. In public, Curtis was a charismatic figure. In person, he was one of the best retail politicians ever—up there with Clinton, maybe almost as good as Reagan. This would prove the president could still win votes out in “Real America.”

  And while he was doing that, his campaign would be working like hell in what Lanning called “the real target—Ohio.”

  Ohio was a swing state right in the middle of the Red Zone. “This election is going to come down to one or two precincts,” Lanning said. “We make Seabrook fight for his base and we win over the undecideds in a crucial state. And most important, we show the world that President Curtis is still a regular guy who can walk around Main Street, U.S.A.”

  Everyone had loved the idea.

  Zach thought it was suicide.

  WHICH BROUGHT THEM TO THIS closed-door meeting with Curtis and Lanning.

  “Look,” Zach said, trying to keep his temper. “You may not be aware of everything that’s been going on—”

  The president gave Zach a curt shake of his head. Zach got the message instantly. Lanning was not “inside the knowledge,” as they said of anyone who knew about Cade. Only a select few on what was called the Special Security Council and a handful of trusted Secret Service agents were allowed that privilege. Zach was glad to see Curtis was keeping the list short; too many people knew about the president’s vampire for his comfort as it was.

  That did make explaining things difficult, however. “There’s been a death threat” was what Zach had to settle for.

  “So what else is new?” Lanning said. “There are more mouth-breathers and whack jobs than ever out there. They get bored with Internet porn and watch Taxi Driver too many times and they think they can take out the president. It’s part of the job.”

  “That’s pretty easy for you to say, Dan. It’s not your ass.”

  Lanning’s face darkened. “You’re not on the first team anymore,” he told Zach. “You haven’t seen the latest numbers. Seabrook has the momentum. We’re trending downward in the battleground states. If the president doesn’t get out there and rally the troops, he’s dead.”

  A sudden silence.

  “Sorry,” Lanning said. “Bad choice of words. But you know what I mean.”

  “Zach,” the president said. “This is a crucial time. If I want to be in the White House in January, then I can’t hide here now.”

  Without waiting for another protest from Zach, he turned to Lanning. “Dan, didn’t you want to go over the logistics on the buses with Agent Butler?”

  Lanning knew when he was being shoved out the door. “Yeah,” he said. “I can do that.”

  He went to the door. “For what it’s worth, Barrows, I’m glad you’re back.” It was as close to an apology as Lanning would ever get.

  “Yeah, Lanning. You’re lucky I’m here to bail you out again.”

  Lanning flipped Zach the finger before leaving.

  Curtis looked at Zach and then Cade. “This is about Ohio, I assume.”

  Cade finally spoke up. “It’s worse than we thought.”

  “It’s him?”

  Cade nodded. (The president didn’t get corrected on the whole “it-him” thing, Zach noticed.) “Do you still intend to go through with this plan?�
��

  “I do,” Curtis said.

  “Do you want to live to be inaugurated?” Cade asked.

  The president’s face set into a hard mask. He was not used to being questioned anymore. It came with the job. People did not disagree with the president. It was a handicap, because it reinforced the illusion of infallibility that most politicians have anyway. Zach had once heard the president described as “the most dangerous narcissist alive, because the world really does revolve around him.”

  The person who’d said that had been Samuel Curtis, back when he was just a United States senator.

  But Cade couldn’t be fired or demoted. This gave him a certain amount of ability to speak his mind to the president. And since his loyalty was unquestionable, the president couldn’t simply dismiss his concern.

  “I’m aware of the risks,” Curtis said.

  “I don’t believe you are,” Cade said. “This incarnation of the Boogeyman could literally be anyone. He has targeted you directly. You will not be safe until I can deal with this. I suggest you stay in the White House,” he said.

  The president actually laughed at that. “You do remember there’s an election in a couple months, right?”

  “Your life is in danger.”

  The president smiled a little. “It’s not always safe here, either, as I’m sure I don’t need to remind either of you.”

  Zach thought of his first assignment with Cade, which ended in a full-scale assault on the White House. There had been two bodies in the Oval Office alone, one of them belonging to his predecessor, Griff.

  “The fact is, I want to keep this job,” Curtis said. “I have things I still want to do. I am unconvinced my opponent will understand the real nature of the threats we face. I’ve made my decision. I trust you to handle it. That’s why you will accompany me on this excursion.”

  Cade could not refuse a direct order from the president. It was built into him by his oath. He simply nodded.

  Zach, however, needed a little more clarification.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You want to take Cade on the campaign trail? It’s hard enough for civilians when they meet him, and that’s usually after something from Hell has chewed up the local sheriff and spat him out. Bring him to a fundraiser where the scariest thing people expect is a mention of Sarah Palin and your supporters will mess their silk undies. Humans do not mix well with vampires,” he said to Curtis. He turned to Cade. “No offense,” he said.

  Cade’s face was as stony as ever. “None taken.”

  “You’ve dealt with this reaction before, Zach. And Cade will still need someone to act for him in the daylight. That’s why you’ve been officially rehired as a campaign consultant. Cade, you will work the night shift as a part of my Secret Service protection team.”

  Zach tried one last time. “Sir. That means increasing the number of people who know about Cade. You’re talking about bringing an entire Secret Service detail inside the knowledge. I’ve been with you on the trail. There’s no way to avoid them knowing. Cade will have to be fed. Placed in the coffin and shipped during the day. That means they will have to be briefed on all of this. The Boogeyman. The Other Side. Everything.”

  “You need to make it work. I trust you to deliver as much information as necessary to the agents. After all, they’re sworn to protect me, too. And none of them drink blood.”

  “Even so, sir, you’re talking about a massive risk—”

  President Curtis slapped one hand down on the table like a judge gaveling court to a close. “I am going to campaign. That is nonnegotiable,” he said. He looked at Zach until the younger man looked away.

  “Yes, sir,” Zach said.

  The president stood. Once he’d made a decision, he moved forward. The meeting was over. “Just one other thing,” he said. “You’ll need someone who can go between you and the campaign.”

  Zach didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought we weren’t going to play that game again.”

  The president knew what he meant. Curtis had tried to delegate the responsibility for Cade and Zach to his chief of staff about nine months earlier. Then it turned out that the man had betrayed the president to a shadowy conspiracy dedicated to overthrowing the government by occult means. When it all fell apart, he committed suicide rather than face Cade’s wrath. The press chalked it up to the pressure of the midterm elections.

  “We’re not,” the president said firmly. “But you do need someone with official status in the campaign who’s already inside the knowledge about Cade. Someone who can get you access and information whenever you need it. Someone you can trust.”

  Zach couldn’t think of anyone who filled that wish list. Then Curtis pressed a button on the intercom. “You can come in now, sweetheart,” he said.

  Sweetheart? Zach’s brain froze up. That couldn’t mean—

  The door opened.

  A very attractive young woman walked in. Despite her efforts to dress conservatively in a suit jacket and skirt, she would still draw stares anywhere she went. She was twenty-one years old. Zach had sent a card on her last birthday. She hadn’t replied.

  The president sounded just a little amused when he said, “I believe you remember my daughter, Zach.”

  Oh, Candace. We see how you’re trying, honey. You don’t want to be the Paris Hilton of the political world anymore. You want to put that whole party-girl image behind you. You’ve even taken time off from that third-rate safety school to campaign for your daddy. (BTW, WTF? UCLA? Really? The President of the United States can’t even get his daughter into Brown?) And really, we’d love to stop picking on you. But, sweetie, you are not making it easy for us. I mean, you cannot show up at an Iowa fundraiser—Iowa! Farmers! The Heartland! Family values!—wearing a blouse that goes transparent under the TV lights. We even heard one of the people there say, “If I’d known there were going to be strippers at this thing, I’d have left the wife at home.” We’re sure you mean well, Candace. But you’re not helping.

  —Mudslinger, a political blog

  The president left his own office. “I’ll let you work out the details,” he said to Candace and Zach.

  Zach would have sworn he was smirking.

  “This is how it’s going to work,” Candace told them. “He”—pointing at Cade—“does not go anywhere near the press or the public unless absolutely necessary. I still wake up from nightmares about what he did at the White House.”

  Cade said nothing.

  “You mean where he saved your life?” Zach said.

  She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “Zach, before he does anything, you will coordinate with me. I want to be consulted about every possible threat. Then the Secret Service will assist you and Cade in whatever action is approved by the president. I’ve written it up as this plan of action—”

  “No,” Cade said flatly.

  “Excuse me?” Candace said.

  “You heard me. You are frightened and you’re trying to impose order on a fundamentally irrational situation. I can understand that. But I will not allow it. This is not a political problem. And you have no idea what you are dealing with. You do not know what’s at stake.”

  “I know what’s at stake,” Candace said sharply. “I was there.”

  “Then don’t interfere with me,” Cade said.

  “You think you can just run around a campaign killing people at random and no one will notice?” Candace said, her voice tight with anger. “You have got to have some kind of plan.”

  “Humans plan,” Cade said. “God laughs.”

  “That’s really deep. But like it or not, the president told you to cooperate with me.”

  “Yes,” Cade said. “But you do not give me orders. You’re his daughter, not a government official. My job is to protect you, not obey you.”

  “You keep talking to me like I’m a teenage bimbo and I’m going to find a stake,” she shot back.

  “Enough,” Zach said. “Candace, stop it. I know you and I didn’t leave things on the
best of terms—”

  “Really? You want to have that talk right now?”

  “No,” he said. “I want to solve the problem. You’re right. We can’t let anyone know about Cade. But I have been doing this for a while now. And if you want your father to live, you’re going to have to listen to me.”

  “I suppose you’ve got a better idea?”

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Candace fumed for a moment, then gave him a smirk a lot like her dad’s.

  “So you’ve grown a pair, huh? All right, Zach. Tell me how it’s going to work.”

  Remember all those photographs of Kennedy that adorned the apartments, shops and homes of people from North America to South America, from Europe to Asia, in the years after the assassination; usually placed next to a picture of Jesus or the Pope, it had a place of honor tantamount to a Last Supper painting. Without being able to articulate why, in many cases, the average person—particularly the average Catholic person—saw something divine, something terrible and sacred, in the idea of the murdered President.

  —Peter Levenda, Sinister Forces

  SEPTEMBER 23, 2012, PRESIDENTIAL EMERGENCY

  OPERATIONS CENTER, WHITE HOUSE,

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  The small conference room wouldn’t have looked out of place in a business-class hotel. Only its location made it unique. Dug into the bedrock beneath the White House, the Presidential Emergency Operations Center had been built during the Kennedy administration as a bomb shelter and then seriously upgraded since 9/11. The room was usually reserved for the president for occasions like terrorist attacks or wars. It also linked to a tunnel leading back to the Reliquary. Deep under the ground and out of the light, it was Cade’s main entry point to the White House.

  The two dozen Secret Service agents squirmed uncomfortably. Some of them hesitated before sitting at the big conference table, as if they expected someone more important to take their chairs.

  But as far as Zach was concerned, these men and women had just become more important than almost everyone in the United States government. They were about to be brought inside the knowledge.