Grace tried to make herself comfortable in the dressing room, as Mason’s campaign Manager, Trent Davis worked with him on his last minute preparations. The room was fairly large compared to other dressing rooms she had been in these last few years. Traffic had been horrible on the ride over from the hotel. It had taken them nearly thirty minutes just to travel the five mile distance. It would have been much quicker to simply walk. But that was out of the question. No security force could have kept them safe walking out in the open like that. They had hoped to arrive earlier so that Trent could spend the final minutes with Mason, to bring him up to speed on the events of the day. Once again, the Southwestern Union had advanced troops across the Louisiana border in another attempt to take control of that choice piece of Gulf of Mexico coastline. The SU troops had encountered fierce opposition, but their superior fire power had allowed them to advance several miles inward. Mason himself had fought in those same trenches during his time in the service, and Trent knew that this could play well in his favor in tonight’s debate. Grace poured herself a glass of white wine from one of the many bottles that sat open on the buffet table, as she listened casually.
“Mr. Alexander, how would you secure our borders against future military advances from the Southwestern Union?” Trent asked, emulating a question that he was certain would be asked.
“That is a very good question, and thank you for asking it.”
“Come on, Mason. There’s no need for fluff on a question like this. You know this, you’ve lived it. You’ve been there for Christ’s sake-”
“Mr. Davis,” Grace interrupted, “please, do not take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Sorry, Grace.” He replied, with a sheepish look of apology. He turned back to Mason. “Just get straight to the point. With a question like this, being the top news this week, this is a slam dunk for you. And you should use every possible second so that the voters can hear your side of the story.”
“I know.” Mason replied. “You’re right. It’s just a habit, you know.” He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and began again. “Securing our borders is one of the most important things that must be done to protect our fragile nation. Citizens of the Republic need to be able to feel secure in their own homes, without worry and without fear. The solution to this seemingly never ending problem is in our hands already, yet we have been reluctant to deploy the technology. The Drone Net program was designed specifically to protect our borders from invasion, yet after having spent trillions of tax payer dollars, we have yet to implement its use. I well remember my days of service, on the very border that was attacked today. I remember the attack twenty years ago on the same border, and amount of blood and treasure that was wasted to push back the invaders.
“To this day, I still carry the wounds from that battle every where I go. And it is more than just the scars from the bullet wounds, or the shrapnel in my leg that sets off metal detectors. I carry the pain of loss. I carry the memories of my best friend as he lay dying, his blood soaking through my hands as I tried everything I could to save his life. Of how he died in my hands. Of how many of our boys and girls have given their lives protecting our borders. This has gone on too long, and it is time to bring it to an end. And when elected President, I promise you...no, I guarantee you, that I will immediately implement the Drone Net program, and our borders will be secure.”
“Good job!” Davis exclaimed. Grace nodded with a smile, as she sipped her wine. “If you handle the rest of the questions like that, this debate is yours.” A knock came at the door.
“Five minutes!” Came the voice from the other side of the door. Mason stood up.
“Wish me luck.” He said to Grace.
“Luck.” She said, and gave him a peck on the cheek. The makeup artist, brushed at his face one last time, and quickly removed the protective paper from around his collar. She gave him a thumbs up sign. He smiled. Grace watched after him as he headed down the long narrow hallway towards the stage, one Secret Service agent in front of him, and one behind him.
“He’ll do fine.” Grace jumped, as she turned to face Connor Sloan.
“You startled me.” She said.
“Sorry, I thought you knew I was out here. Are you okay?” He asked. She nodded. “Good. Come on. We should head to the lounge.” She nodded again and began to follow him the other way down the hallway. This would a bit awkward, she thought to herself, as she followed him in silence. She had met the opponent’s wife once before, and Reshmina had seemed like a nice enough person, but Grace was full of dread at the thought of spending the next two hours with her. They had met on the campaign trail before either of their husbands had won the nomination from their parties. Back then, there seemed to be a bit of camaraderie, but it would be different this time, she was sure. Suddenly, she stopped walking.
“Agent Sloan.” She said. He stopped and turned back to her.
“Yes, mam.”
“Do we really have to go to the lounge?”
“That is the plan, mam.”
“Couldn’t we just stay in the dressing room?”
“No live feed, mam. You’d miss the debate.” She pondered that thought for a moment. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know what Mason would say to practically ever question he would be asked. “And...” He began to say.
“And what?”
“And, Mr. Davis felt it would important for you to spend the time with Mrs. Malek.” Grace looked puzzled.
“Why is that important?”
“He didn’t say, mam. At least not to me. I heard him mention it to Mr. Alexander.” Was there something she was supposed to do, she wondered. Mason had said nothing about it, if so.
“For any specific reason?” She asked Sloan.
“None that I was told, mam.” He paused, but seemed like he had something else to say. She stared at him.
“Well?” she asked. “You at least have a thought about it, don’t you.” He nodded.
“In a way, an election is like a battle. The debates are skirmishes. In fact any meeting of the candidates is a very important individual battle played out on the most public of battlefields. And it’s the outcome of all of these small battles that ultimately decides the winner of the war.” He paused for moment, before he continued. “Do you know who wins the war Mrs. Alexander?”
“The side with the biggest guns?”
“No, mam. And it’s not the side with the most battles won either. It’s the side with the most information, mam. That’s who wins the war.”
“Information?” She asked. Sloan nodded. So you think they want me in the lounge...”
“To gather intel, mam.”
“Then why didn’t someone just tell me that.” She asked.
“Can’t answer that question, mam.” Down the hallway, a man rounded the corner towards them. Sloan jumped in front of grace, and drew his weapon. The man froze, and slowly brought his hands up.
“Sorry.” He said quietly, as he began to back up and around the corner. Sloan waited for a few more seconds before he holstered his weapon.
“Mam. I prefer not to stay out in the open like this. Should we proceed to the lounge?” A few seconds passed as she searched his face for a decision, but try as she might, she did not find one there. Eventually, she nodded. A few more turns down the hallway they reached the lounge. Sloan spoke with the agent stationed at the door, and then went inside, asking Grace to stay behind. A minute later he came back out of the room, and allowed her to enter. He took up watch in the hallway, as the door closed behind her. Inside, Grace looked around the room. It was larger than the dressing room, but not overtly large or ornate. She saw Reshmina sitting in front of the viewscreen. Other than her, the room was empty.
“Mrs. Malek.” Grace said quietly. Reshmina turned, and her face lit up with a smile.
“Reshmina.” She exclaimed. “Please, Mrs. Alexander. Call me, Reshmina.” She rose up from the chair and quickly crossed the room.
“Grace.” Grace said. “Call me Grace.�
� They embraced. Not as old friends, or even as new acquaintances, but more as a pair of people with many shared experiences. In a way, Grace thought, that was what they had in common. A long yet similar road traveled. Suddenly, Reshmina released the embrace, and hurried back across the room.
“It’s beginning.” She said, and motioned for Grace to join her.
“Hi and welcome to this, the first of three debates of the top two candidates vying for the office of President of the Republic of America. I am your host, Hollace Brumley. Gentlemen, welcome.” Both Mason and Bazir, smiled and nodded. “The rules of this debate are as follows.” As Brumley explained the rules, Grace went to the bar, and poured a glass of wine.
“Wine, Reshmina?”
“Oh no, thank you, Grace. None for me please.” Grace poured half a glass, and sat back down. Brumley continued.
“The first question goes to you, Mr. Malek.” Bazir nodded. “If elected, what measures would your administration take to overcome the increasingly frequent and deadly attacks on the Christian minority?”
“That is a very good question, and thank you for asking it, Mr. Brumley.” Mason couldn’t help but smile at the lead in to his answer. “It is true that in recent years the attacks on many religions have become extreme. It is my belief, that our government should hasten its efforts to clamp down on those that exhibit extreme tendencies, while protecting the freedoms of those that practice their religion peacefully. Just as occurred many centuries ago, there can be extremist within any sect. It is with great shame that I acknowledge such behavior once existed within my own Islam. I am certain that if we as a government unify on this front, we can and will make a difference.”
“Thank you, Mr. Malek. Mr. Alexander, it is your turn to answer the same question. If elected, what measures would your administration take to overcome the increasingly frequent and deadly attacks on the Christian minority?” Mason smiled broadly, glanced at Bazir, and then turned to face directly into the camera.
“No more. I say, no more. We all know where these attacks have originated. We all know how many innocent lives have been lost over these insane radical beliefs that have plagued our world for centuries. I say to you, that as a citizen of the Republic of America, that you will have, will enjoy...the freedom of religion at all costs. And if you wish to worship the Lord Jesus Christ as your savior, then you have that freedom, and with it the protection needed to ensure the safety of you and your family. When elected, I will personally see to it that the extremist are rooted out, that they are hunted down, and that they will be sent to face Allah. Let their God or Gods, or absence of such, enter final judgment on their actions.” Reshmina turned to Grace, surprise on her face.
“Did he just say Allah?” She asked, confusion in her voice.
“I...I don’t know.” Grace stammered. That was exactly what she had heard him say. What was he thinking, she thought. He couldn’t say something like that and expect to get elected. And when did he ever feel that way. It was not something he had ever shared with her throughout the entire time that she had known him.
“Mr. Alexander, I’m not sure that we heard you correctly. Did you indicate that those that worship Allah are to blame for the persecution of Christians?”
“Yes.” Mason replied. “Can you deny that the actions of radical Muslims has not ended the lives of millions of Christians throughout the history of man. It is these extremists, these radicals that must be isolated and brought to justice for their crimes.”
“But you cannot suggest the slaughter of Muslims, Mr. Alexander.” Bazir interjected.
“Excuse me, if maybe I was not clear.” He put on his prize winning smile. “Justice is what is needed in our nation today. I simply meant that those responsible should be found, and brought to justice, regardless of what their religious belief may be. You yourself said that extremists exist in all religions, and you even acknowledged that extremists have come from those that hold your own beliefs. Either you accept the reality of the danger we all face, and take action to bring it to a stop, or you take no action and perpetuate the problem. Bazir, I would think you of all citizens should know this. When elected, I pledge that every citizen will be able to experience their religious freedom. Especially in these trying times.”
Chapter 8
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