Sleep came fitfully for Grace that night. She had betrayed her husband, she knew. But he had betrayed her as well. And the country. She tried desperately not to think about the horrible plans she and Connor had uncovered. The man she once loved, the father of her children, could not be involved in something so inhumane. But she had seen it with her own eyes. Irrefutable proof that he was no man, but a monster. She tossed and turned for several hours before she finally gave up on any attempt to sleep. She went into the main living area and activated the vid screen. Flipping to one of the national twenty four hour news feeds, she scanned for any indication that they had received her message.
She had selected all of the national news organizations, several high volume regional outlets, and a few international news hubs. After a few minutes with no mention of Mason, she flipped to another national channel. Again minutes passed with no mention of him, and she changed the feed again. She checked the time. It was four in the morning. Certainly they had had enough time to receive the message and at least confirm what it meant. Could it be possible they were withholding information as important as this, she wondered. Again she changed feeds, and there was his face. A picture of Mason from the convention was centered on the screen. A woman on the left side of the image was talking, while a man stood silent on the right. She activated the sound.
“...still ahead in the polls, though his opponent, Bazir Malek is within a few percentage points, based on the latest combined polls. Mark, is this gap between the two candidates within the margin of error?”
“Yes, Stacey, it is. When we analyze the overall polling methods used in each of the five polls that make up the combined poll, essentially the margin of error is plus or minus four points, which for any poll of this magnitude is rather close. But it means that even if Mr. Alexander had a four point lead over Mr. Malek, they would actually be in a statistical tie.”
“Well, according to the numbers I’m looking at, Alexander’s lead is only two percent.”
“Exactly. So if you extrapolate the margin of error in to a range, at the high end for Alexander, he may be leading as much as six percent-”
“Or losing by two percent.”
“That’s right, Stacey.”
“Still too close to call. Thanks Mark. Next we’ll take a look at the weather front, but first, have you seen this?” The image dissolved to show a small puppy being pulled from a sewer drain. Grace muted the sound. She changed the feed again, and flipped though the media outlets that she had sent the message to, yet one after the other, there was no word about the message. Again and again, she happened upon news of the election, but every story was about the latest polls. There was not a hint of information about Mason’s plans. She checked the time. Two hours had gone by. Would Connor be up yet, she wondered. She couldn’t wait any longer, she had to check. She messaged him and waited.
I was nearly an hour later when he finally messaged her back. He would be there shortly, he had replied. By now she was beside herself. She could find nothing about her message on any of the news outlets, not even in the blogosphere. She even tried to search the cloud for any mention, but again there was nothing. She sat there in front vid screen, perplexed. She jumped when a knock came at the door. Connor entered the room.
“Morning, mam.”
“There’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Not a word. None of the media outlets have said anything. How can that be?”
“I’m not sure. Check your messaging app, and make sure it was sent.”
“I’ve already done that twice. It was sent all right.”
“We could call one of them...to verify that they received it.”
“I can’t call them, Connor. Not about this. I can’t let them know the information came from me. That’s why we decided to send it anonymously. If Mason found out...”
“It’s okay. I’ve got a contact with RBC. A guy I served with years ago.”
“But Conner, if you reach out to him, he’ll know I’m involved. We can’t risk it.”
“Not a problem. I’ll just tell him I’m following up on an investigation into a threat on Mr. Alexander. He knows I’m Secret Service and assigned to the campaign. He has no way to no that I’m assigned to you specifically.”
“Are you sure?” She asked. Connor nodded. “Okay, then. See what you can find out.” With her consent, he messaged his old acquaintance. Surprisingly, the response came within minutes.
“They think it’s a hoax.”
“What?”
“A hoax. He said they get things like this all the time. They even have a department set up to do nothing but go through all of the thousands of anonymous messages they receive. He said that almost all of them wind up being worthless, and that they would never air anything that they could not independently corroborate.”
“But we sent the documentation. That’s the proof. What more could they want?”
“Documentation can be forged.”
“But it wasn’t. It’s not. You know that!”
“I do. But they don’t. And there is no way to prove it to them.”
“So now what? What do we do? We have to let the people know.”
“I know, Grace. I know.”
“You think that all of the media outlets think it’s a hoax?”
“They must. If one net ran with it, the others would most likely follow. You said yourself, there has not been a single word about it.”
“I’ll send it again.”
“Do you think it will matter?”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Connor. We have to try. What if you tell your friend that it’s real?”
“I easily got away with the last request, but if I tell him it’s real, he’ll know it is coming from inside the campaign.”
“And Mason will know it came from me.”
“Exactly. If you are going to resend it, I would get started now. I’ve arranged for us to relocate in two hours.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the next hotel.”
“Where Mason is?”
“Yes, mam. That is correct.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“I can’t. I just can’t look at him.”
“Grace, I understand how you feel. But I will be there to protect you. The final debate is in just a few days, and your itinerary requires that you be at the hotel before then.”
“But Conner, you know what’s going on, you can’t think that I will just keep on campaigning?”
“If you don’t, Mr. Alexander will know something is wrong.”
“Tell him I’m sick. I almost died last night after all.”
“The doctor has already advised him that you are well enough to travel, Grace. We really have no option.”
“This is ridiculous. I feel like a prisoner.”
“In a way, I guess you are, mam. I guess we both are. But either way, we are leaving in two hours. I suggest you get those messages sent.” She stared at him for a moment, knowing he was right, and not wanting to accept it. Inside, she finally relinquished, and began resending the messages from the anonymous message account.
Chapter 25
VirtuaScape Page 24