Election Day: A Harry Cassidy Novel

by Henry Hack

  The next morning weary New Yorkers, along with their fellow Americans from all over the nation, rose bleary-eyed after staying up late to watch the tragic news as it unfolded, including New York’s mayor, Stanley Miller. He forced himself awake at 8:00 a.m. and called his press secretary informing him that he would have a statement about last night’s events to be delivered at noon. “I’ll work on it here,” he said “and will be in the office around 10:30.”

  The mayor took his coffee out onto the veranda of Gracie Mansion and walked over to the sea wall facing the East River as was his habit on many mornings, albeit at a much earlier time, and usually when the sun was rising across the river over Queens. He inhaled the fresh salt air of the rippling tidal estuary and pondered the events of the previous evening and what he would say about it. He took a sip of his coffee and, just as he noticed the white fishing boat anchored off shore, a bullet from a high-powered rifle put an immediate end to those thoughts.

  The Minutemen had struck again at another liberal not on their list. That should put an exclamation point on last night’s activities, the Committee had reasoned. Now it was time to sit back for awhile and await the reaction.

  * * *

  The New York Task Force had another murder to contend with bringing the total to six. And they were no closer to solving the death of Mayor Miller than they were to any of the others. The shooter had obviously been on the boat which immediately sped away up the East River to parts unknown and had not yet been located. And the Ohio cops and FBI agents had still gotten zero from the suspect in custody.

  The day after the murder of Mayor Miller, liberal Senator Martin Tomasso from the state of New Jersey, called a noon press conference to announce his withdrawal from his senate race. Although the eighteen-year veteran of the senate was comfortably ahead in the polls by ten percentage points, he cited recently discovered health issues as his reason for backing out of the race. “Rest assured, my friends,” he said, “I am not quitting because of the threats from the Minutemen, but on my physician’s advice that my seventy-year old body might not stand up to the rigors of a vigorous campaign.”

  Watching the TV in the conference room, members of the Task Force realized that this announcement was the first crack in the dike. “I wonder what this sudden onset of health problems consists of,” Mike Morra said.

  “The only health concern old Marty is worried about is the onset of sudden death,” Spider Webb said.

  “I guess I can’t blame him considering his position,” Alicia Johnson said.

  “What position?” Danny asked.

  “Tomasso is a zillionaire. He’s seventy years old with a fine-looking trophy wife and a carload of grandkids. No way does he want to depart this world right now.”

  “Guess he has no faith in the protection provided by Uncle Sam,” Pete W said.

  “Would you, after what happened in the past few days?” John McKee asked.

  No one answered John’s rhetorical question and all wondered when others would follow Tomasso’s lead and cave in to the demands of the Minutemen. They did not have to wait long.

  The next morning three liberal congressmen, two from California and one from Pennsylvania, publicly announced their withdrawal from their upcoming election races. Health concerns, advancing age, and family concerns were cited as among the reasons for backing out. The crack in the dike was becoming a substantial trickle and President Nelson decided he had to act quickly to stem the flow before the dike burst. The day the Vice-President was laid to rest in Arlington Cemetery, the White House press secretary announced that the President would once more address the nation that evening.

  There were few Americans who were not sitting in view of a television set when the President appeared and said –

  This great nation has withstood many challenges and dastardly attacks in our years of democratic existence. I wish to assure all my fellow Americans we will withstand this one as well. We will defeat the Minutemen and emerge victorious and stronger.

  Today we buried our beloved Vice-President, Richard Manworth, who served me and our country faithfully for these past two years. His violent death will leave a voice that will be difficult to fill, but his death will not be in vain. We will remember him fondly and use his assassination at the hands of cowards as our rallying point in our determination to root out, and destroy the Minutemen once and for all.

  I have selected my Secretary of State, Nancy Olsen, to succeed Richard Manworth in the position of Vice-President of the United States and she has accepted. Ms. Olsen, I assure you, has the skills and expertise to assume the Presidency should that need arise. Her undersecretary will act as Secretary of State until I choose her replacement.

  I will end this talk with a warning to the Minutemen. You will not defeat us. You will not subvert our legitimate democratic election process. We’re coming after you with all we’ve got, and we will destroy you. Abandon your murderous ways and crawl back into your holes like the vermin you are. Your days are numbered. Good night. May God bless and protect this great nation.”

  * * *

  The President’s strong statement seemed to be working. Three days after he spoke, no other candidate for election whose name appeared on the list had quit his or her race. While the public breathed a bit easier, law enforcement did not. The pressure to stop the Minutemen was increasing each day, especially in the articles and op-ed columns in the major liberal newspapers. And of course, the August 1 target date had been reduced by six days to July 25, giving Walt Kobak and his FBI just thirty-three days to do the impossible.

  NYPMD Commissioner Charles Carson had not gotten a reprieve with the death of Mayor Miller. The new mayor was Miller’s first deputy mayor, Sidney Kroger, who announced he would run for mayor come November. His first words to Carson were, “Get off your lazy ass and lock somebody up for the Mayor’s murder soon or you days are numbered.”

  Harry Cassidy had been saddened by the deaths of the three FBI agents, always thinking of his daughter’s situation. His action to keep her off the Task Force resulted in her assignment to the huge protection detail for the politicians on the Minutemen’s hit list. Had he made a mistake?

  Chapter Seventeen

  After sobering up enough to attend Bill Brennan’s funeral, Red Baker went on an extended bender leaving his apartment only to buy more whiskey. But it was the shocking news of the assassination of the Vice-President that caused him to put on a pot of coffee instead of reaching for the bottle of Jameson’s.

  A half pot later the coffee worked its magic, and Red decided to pore through the many days of accumulated mail that he had retrieved from his lobby box during his forays to the local liquor store. There appeared to be nothing of importance, except for one letter-sized envelope dated two days prior. There was something familiar with the way his name and address were neatly typed, and the envelope bore no return address. He slit it open and withdrew the single, neatly-typed page.

  Dear Mr. Baker,

  First we wish to apologize to you for the death of your friend and publisher, Mr. Bill Brennan. His murder was unnecessary, but brought on by his own stubbornness and folly. We are happy that you did the right thing sparing yourself the same fate. However, by resigning, your editorial voice has been stilled. We would like to give you the opportunity to get back in the action, but in a way you are not accustomed to.

  Instead of the print media, we would like you to work for a major cable news channel, NNN. We have already communicated with their news division and they would welcome your addition to their staff as a guest commentator. We are sure they will compensate you very well and you will have an audience of millions instead of thousands.

  If you decide to do this please call Mr. Alan Acorsi, the news director at NNN, to make the employment arrangements. When Mr. Acorsi confirms your employment, he will notify us and our next letter will be sent to you at the station.

  There are no stipulations as to how you report what we send you. It will not be necessary t
o read our communication verbatim, but you must convey the essence of the message. Your words are much better than ours.

  We look forward to working with you during the difficult days ahead as we approach the most important day of decision in our country’s lifetime – Election Day.

  Sincerely yours, The Minutemen

  Red needed a shot of Irish after reading the letter, but refrained mightily and drank the rest of the coffee. Here it was, the opportunity to get back in the game again. Should he take it? Will he be viewed as a shill for the Minutemen? But he was a goddamn reporter and he didn’t give a flying fuck what anybody thought. He reached for the phone, dialed information and asked to be connected to the Triple N network.

  * * *

  The Triple N cable news channel had hyped “The Return of Red Baker” for three entire days. The all-day commercial barrages touted the hiring of the famed journalist claiming his on-air presence would impress his audience far better than his written words. And the topper was the fact that he would broadcast the next communication from the Minutemen. Triple N was hoping that this debut would seriously eat into the competition in the eight o’clock slot – Bill O’Reilly on FNC and Anderson Cooper on CNN. And now on the evening of June 26, Triple N was ready to spring Red Baker on the air at 8:00 p.m.

  “Can you believe this?” Susan asked as they sipped a cocktail and watched the hyped commercial for the third time.

  “I hope the old redhead shows up sober,” Harry said.

  “How do you think he’ll go over on TV? Hasn’t he been a columnist his whole life?”

  “Yes, and I saw him interviewed once on the tube and he didn’t come across so well.”

  “I hope they prep him enough. I’m not a big fan of his, as you know, but I hope he doesn’t fumble the ball.”

  “Maybe the fact that he has the next letter from the Minutemen will blind the audience to his screw-ups. We’ll know in a couple of hours.”

  “Are you still happy sitting on the sidelines even though three FBI men were killed by the Minutemen?”

  “For now, yes. Besides, no one really wants me in the fight and I’m really hoping this is the end of it. The politicians are starting to head for the hills.”

  “But not since the President’s last speech.”

  “Maybe this next letter will change things. Let’s eat and then relax and watch our old buddy Red make his big television splash.”

  Red Baker’s image filled the screen as the time hit exactly eight o’clock. “Good evening,” he said with a small smile.

  “He looks pretty good,” Susan said.

  “Surprisingly so. My god, he seems sober!”

  “And a suit and tie that looks tailored by Brooks Brothers.”

  “I’m used to seeing him in a wrinkled white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and never with a tie.”

  As the camera zoomed closer on Red’s face, Harry said, “They did some damn good make-up job on him. Bet they needed a gallon of Visine to get the red out of his eyes.”

  “S-s-s-s-h, he’s starting to speak.”

  Baker introduced himself and thanked the network for giving him the opportunity to return to the national media. “I’m a reporter,” he said. “I will report the news and then I will comment on it. The report contains facts. My comments are my opinion, and my opinion only. I will always differentiate the two, and so should you – and so should our politicians.”

  He took a deliberate pause and said, “And hopefully, so should the Minutemen.”

  “Guess he doesn’t want to end up like Bill Brennan,” Susan said.

  “No, but I think he’d rather go out that way than sitting home alone drinking himself to death in a crummy apartment.”

  After a few more preliminaries, Baker reached for a piece of paper and announced he would now read the latest letter from the Minutemen.

  Dear Mr. Baker

  Now that we have eliminated the Vice-President, the Mayor of New York, and three of the targets on our list, it should be clear to all that we cannot be stopped. We can, and will, kill every target on our list. If that does not cause the liberal, progressive movement to fold their tents and disappear, we are prepared to kill more of them in whatever industry or business they are in, political or otherwise.

  We are encouraged by the recent withdrawals of four of those on our list. We expect there will be many more in the days ahead. If not, the killings will resume. We will not lose. We will not be defeated. America will be free once more. And if our brave patriot, Paul Revere, is watching this from his Ohio prison cell, be aware, that we are all extremely proud of you. Hang tough and stay silent. The Minutemen.

  “That’s it, verbatim,” Red Baker said. “You are all free to de-code its meaning and what our government should do about it. My comments will be restricted to what the law enforcement community is doing about the Minutemen. The answer to that seems to be – nothing. As you may know, I have never held the cops in high esteem, except for a few notable exceptions, two of which are long deceased. The current crop of so-called terrorist fighters is a bunch of useless newbies. Those that successfully brought down the OBL-911 terrorists and the Romen Society whackos are either retired, dead, gone who knows where, or descended into ineptitude.

  “You might remember their names – Charles “Pop” Hunter. Dead. The fearless and famous former NYMPD Commissioner Harry Cassidy. Retired and nowhere to be found. Nick Faliani. Pushing paper at some private eye outfit. John McKee. Still on the New York Task Force, and is still as dumb and useless as before. And for our FBI Director Walter Kobak, it seems he has been swallowed up in the bureaucracy, and completely forgotten how to be a cop. Is there anyone out there who can stop these guys?”

  Red Baker signed off the air, the slight smile returning to his face.

  “That son-of-a-bitch!” Harry yelled pointing his finger at the TV screen as the smiling face slowly faded out.

  “Guess he hit a nerve, huh?”

  “Those shots at McKee and Walt were uncalled for.”

  “How about the shot at you, my dear? What was it? Nowhere to be found?”

  “Screw him. He knows where I am.”

  “I don’t believe that was what he meant. I believe, and so must you, that he is egging you on to join the fight.”

  “Too bad the Minutemen gave him a reprieve last time. The sarcastic bastard may not get lucky again.”

  “So what are you going to do?

  “Nothing.”

  * * *

  Three days later, with no more dropouts having occurred, the Minutemen struck once more killing five more people, all prominent liberals and all not on their hit list. Taken out were the speakers of the New York and California state assemblies, the acting Secretary of State, the publisher of Los Angeles’ most left-leaning newspaper, and the longest-serving, most liberal associate Justice of the US Supreme Court.

  The media reacted with the expected outrage, but the President, not really knowing what else to say, chose not to take to the airwaves. He did, however, choose to summon Walt Kobak to the oval office for more threats and quoted Red Baker’s words about him verbatim. Walt had had enough. He said, “Mr. President, if you want to replace me, go right ahead. I won’t resign because I’m convinced I’m the best man for the job. But if you have someone else in mind, someone who you are certain can bring the Minutemen down in your short time frame, then by all means fire me right now and put him in my place.”

  The President was shocked at Walt’s comeback. He was not used to anyone contradicting him. All he could say was, “Get out of my office, now.”

  * * *

  The Minutemen’s next letter came to Triple N in time for Red Baker’s Thursday broadcast. It got right to the point, stating that they would now go after the named targets on their hit list because “as you correctly stated in your previous broadcast, law enforcement was powerless to stop them.” They also asked Red to remind those targets of the September 1 deadline to withdraw from their races
or face certain death. Red did so, dramatically and with effect. He concluded by saying, “I don’t know how this will all turn out, but I hope something happens to prevent or curtail further bloodshed.”

  During the week after this broadcast, seventeen members on the list dropped out of their races and none remaining were murdered. When no more quit during the following week, the Minutemen struck again – hard.

  * * *

  As Red Baker was preparing for his eight o’clock broadcast, worrying that he didn’t have too much to say, Alan Acorsi rushed into Red’s prep room waving a piece of paper and gasping for breath. “Red...read this…fax.”

  “Calm down Alan. Relax, catch your breath,” Red said guiding the news director into a chair. “Want a drink?”

  “Read that first,” Alan said still struggling to get the words out.

  Red put on his glasses and read –

  Hello Alan and Red,

  This is for NNN exclusively. Five minutes ago we struck big time out in Los Angeles. As you may know, the liberal Democrats put on a big fund raiser sponsored by the Hollywood crowd. We hit them with automatic weapons and grenades and we all made it out of there without a casualty. Don’t know how many we killed, but we think we got at least three politicians on our hit list. Sorry we couldn’t hang around to give you more details, but at least you got this news first.

  Regards, The Minutemen.

  Red Baker stared at the camera and when the red light came on he said, “Good evening. This breaking news just came into Triple N exclusively. The Minutemen claim to have attacked a huge fundraiser at the Actor’s Guild Hall in Los Angeles using automatic weapons and grenades. They did not provide this station with death or injury totals, but stated they felt sure they killed at least three more politicians on their hit list. We will keep you informed as the details flow in from our local news affiliate on the West Coast.”