The Longer The Fall

by Aviva Gat

  “Officer Austin, I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement on this,” Madeline responded. “There must be a way to align our interests.”

  “Our interests are not even close.” Officer Austin’s voice was starting to sound a bit hostile. “You know nothing about what you’re saying. This bill would be a disaster, you’re a dis—"

  Officer Austin was cut off short when Jane popped her head in the room.

  “Madeline, so sorry to interrupt! Officer Austin, I apologize, I do!” She said, her cheeks flushed as they often did when she felt embarrassed. Jane wasn’t good at being in the spotlight, that’s why she was such a great chief of staff. “Madeline, there’s an emergency at home, Brandon called, he wants you to come home.”

  “Did he say what it’s about?” Madeline’s heart began racing. Was it Noah? Was he in trouble again? Was it Adam? Being bullied still for his comment about being the Majority Whip?

  Jane shook her head. “He just said, come home.”

  Madeline nodded and turned to Officer Austin. “Well I thank you for your courtesy in coming. I’m sorry I couldn’t change your mind.” She was slightly glad she wouldn’t be wasting any time talking to Officer Austin who surely would never support her. She shook the officer’s hand and excused herself, allowing Jane to show the man out of the office.

  “So sorry about this inconvenience!” she heard Jane saying. “I’ll talk to your secretary to reschedule again and I promise there won’t be any more hiccups!”

  “It’s not necessary,” Officer Austin replied, just as Madeline was out the office door.

  In the car, Madeline called Brandon’s cellphone. She couldn’t wait the fifteen-minute drive to know what was the emergency.

  “Madeline? Where are you?” Brandon said without any greeting when he answered the phone.

  “I’m driving, I was just worried. Is everyone OK? What happened?”

  “Everyone is OK, just come home.”

  “I am, but can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “I can’t. I have to show you.” The conversation ended abruptly with a click and Madeline continued driving, her heart pounding and her blood boiling.

  Madeline pulled into the driveway, half expecting to see police cars or black vehicles parked out front. But there were none. Nothing unusual outside the house, nothing that could clue her in to what this emergency was. She quickly parked the car and walked inside. Brandon was sitting in his usual spot at the kitchen table, fingering the edge of one of the crocheted placemats in front of him. She squeezed his shoulders as she walked past him to sit in her spot.

  On the table was a ripped open envelop with the edge of a picture hanging out. Next to it, was a cassette tape, the kind people used to listen to before CDs or MP3 players took over. “What’s this?” Madeline asked, picking up the envelope. She was afraid to look inside because she instantly knew what this was. It had been two weeks since they first received the letter of blackmail. With the FBI failing to do their job, and her reelection launch coming up in just a few short weeks, there was only one thing this could be. The blackmailer would be applying pressure. They hadn’t followed the blackmailer’s directions and sent money. For all the blackmailer knew, they had completely ignored the requests.

  Madeline held the envelope in her hands. Brandon had undoubtedly already looked at the picture inside. She could tell from the distress on his face. She tried to read his expression, it was one of fear, guilt, defeat. He sat quietly, his eyes on the envelope in Madeline’s hands, ignoring her question. Madeline’s fingers trembled, but she forced herself to pull the picture out. It was startling, she had never seen herself so exposed.

  The picture showed Madeline from the waist up lying on her back, naked with her breasts exposed. Her body was arched, her chin pointed up and her eyes were closed. She wasn’t sleeping, that was obvious from her agape mouth and the way her arms were bent around her body; one up to her head pushing on the headboard behind her and the other reaching down, below the edge of the picture. The sheets she was lying on were a creamy white and the dark wooden headboard behind her was not the one in the Thomas’ master bedroom. Words escaped her, she couldn’t ask what this picture was or how it was taken. She had no questions because she knew there were no answers. All she could do was look at Brandon, who was still avoiding her eyeline.

  “It must be photoshopped,” Brandon said quietly. “It can’t be real.” He said it like a challenge, and Madeline felt compelled to nod in agreement.

  Surely anyone with basic knowledge of photoshop could easily put her head on a naked woman’s body and make the picture look real. They could easily search through the millions of pictures and videos of her online and find some facial expression that could be distorted to look this way. But there was one thing in the picture that caught Madeline’s eye. Right at the bottom of the picture, before it cut off, right below Madeline’s bellybutton, there was a faint line. A scar from her Cesarean section from when Adam was born. When she went into labor with him, the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and doctors decided to perform an emergency c-section to deliver him. Madeline remembered that day, the fear she felt, the anxiety. She didn’t care if they cut her in half, so long as the baby was safe. At first, she hated that scar, a reminder of the trauma of that day. But years later, the scar didn’t matter, it was just another part of her body, like her arm or her ear.

  If someone had photoshopped the picture, they would have had to know about Madeline’s scar. With enough research, that wouldn’t have been too difficult. She had spoken about her c-section in interviews and the blackmailer could have easily added the scar to make the picture more realistic.

  “What’s on the tape?” Madeline asked.

  Brandon shrugged. “I haven’t listened to it. Do we even have a tape player?”

  Madeline got up and walked to the home office she and Brandon had made for themselves when they moved in. They had designed an office with a large desk, big enough for a computer and extra monitor, and huge bookshelves and drawers for storage. However, over the years it became clear that they didn’t like working in the office. Madeline mostly worked from the kitchen and Brandon often worked on the couch. Working in the office, for both of them, felt like being banished. They only did it if they were in the way. Over the years, the office became more of a storage room. Madeline was sure there was a tape player somewhere in there. She walked inside and started fumbling through one of the drawers until she saw a Walkman, covered in dust. She picked it up and brought it to the kitchen. She tried to turn it on, but it didn’t work.

  “What kind of person sends a tape?” Brandon asked, his tone angry and bitter. “Wouldn’t they know people can’t play these anymore?”

  Madeline understood that tapes were the most secure option for a blackmailer. CDs and MP3s could be traced. Data stored could be interpreted and tracked back to where the files were copied or what type of computer was used. Tapes had no such options, being from the pre-smart technology age.

  Madeline walked to the refrigerator where batteries were stored in the door. She switched the batteries in the old Walkman and then again tried to turn it on. It started clicking to life. She put the tape inside and pressed play, her mind screaming, afraid of what she could hear.

  At first there was a crackle. Then a man’s voice. “Maddy, Maddy, I missed you so much.” Then silence. Brandon and Madeline didn’t say a word. They kept listening, as the tape crackled on.

  “Is that it?” Brandon said. “This is fake, no one calls you Maddy.” Madeline hated being called Maddy. It made her feel like a little girl, a child. Even Brandon called her by her full name.

  Suddenly the crackle on the tape turned back into the man’s voice. “I missed your smell, your voice. Most of all I missed kissing your little strawberry.” The voice turned back to crackle.

  Brandon’s mouth dropped open. “Somebody has been spying on us!” Brandon threw his hands up to his head and he stood up. He started pacin
g around the kitchen. “Madeline. Our kids, someone is watching us…how do they? Do you think our house is bugged?”

  To anyone else, the tape’s last sentence may not have made sense, but it made perfect sense to Brandon. In between Madeline’s thighs, just inches from her panty line, Madeline had a tiny birthmark. It was shaped like a triangle, but on one side little lines popped out, like the stem of a strawberry. Madeline called the birthmark her strawberry, and Brandon had delighted in that the first time he saw it. It was like a little secret between the two of them. When they were younger and newly together, Brandon would always joke about her sweet strawberry smell down below and how tasty it was. Now, it felt like their secret had been violated.

  Brandon stopped the Walkman, which was still crackling. “We need to talk to the FBI,” Brandon said. “They are not doing their job! This is totally unacceptable!”

  Madeline took a deep breath, still absorbing the voice she just heard. “Maybe we need to pay.”

  “What? You’re joking right?”

  “This is our family’s safety we’re talking about,” she said. “If someone has such intimate knowledge of our lives, we don’t know what else they know. They could be dangerous. We need to do whatever to protect ourselves.”

  “Is that what this is about?” Brandon asked. “Protecting ourselves? It’s not about your fears about reelection? You’d rather be blackmailed into paying than risk your reelection?”

  “Brandon…”

  “Seriously, Madeline, if we give in now, they could blackmail us again for more. Who knows what else they have! And who’s to say that if you pay they won’t publish this stuff anyway!” Brandon was still pacing, his arms now swinging back and forth. “I’m calling Agent Murray! They need to step up! They need to fix this. Maybe we should all stay in a hotel for a little while, in case we’re being spied on.”

  Madeline nodded and stood up from the kitchen table. She stopped in front of Brandon, halting his pacing. “First, give me a hug,” she said, opening her arms to embrace him. He fell into her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  “Did you…?” Brandon started to say, his voice trembling. “You would tell me if you did, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t do this to me…after everything…”

  “You know me,” Madeline responded. She held Brandon tight in her arms, afraid to let go. She wanted to contain this, not just for her reelection campaign, which would be devastated by a picture and recording like this, but for Brandon. How he would suffer if their family’s name were drawn through the mud like this.

  She thought about other politicians, strong females, who were forced to give up their positions because of smear campaigns like these. Men cheated, sent nude pictures of themselves to underage girls, even used their positions of power to get favors from women and these men could overcome smear campaigns. Some were even reelected in the midst of these accusations. But women did not have the same privilege. A woman’s reputation had to be spotless. Any stain would stop her from getting to the top. Even stains from dirt that was thrown at her from her opponents, stains that she acquired from no actions of her own.

  Truth in smear campaigns was a minor detail. So minor that it could be easily overlooked or ignored. In fact, no one needed to even consider truth when there was so much mud being thrown. The truth, no matter what it was, would simply be buried under layers and layers of mud that would cake and dry up, becoming harder and harder to dig through. Truth didn’t stand a chance, Madeline knew this and that was why she suddenly made up her mind.

  Chapter 12

  “VACATION!” Noah screamed, jumping up on the couch. Two bellboys followed them into the suite, wheeling a large cart carrying their suitcases. The FBI agents agreed that staying in a hotel while this matter was resolved was a good idea. They booked the hotel and had already done a full security sweep before escorting the family in. There would also be 24/7 surveillance and security watching the family to find out if anyone was watching them or trying to contact them.

  Their house was also being watched. The FBI couldn’t find any evidence of their house being bugged, of any microphones or hidden cameras. Molly, the nanny, had also been subject to a day-long interrogation and polygraph test which resulted in the conclusion that she wasn’t involved in the blackmail.

  After this second letter from the blackmailer, the FBI began to double down their efforts. This perpetrator was smarter than most, they observed. He was careful and able to obtain intimate knowledge without leaving any trace of footsteps. This took skill, the agents said, optimistically calling it a clue. This wasn’t just anybody out for money, this was someone who had obviously been preparing for a long time. Someone with intimate knowledge of security and how investigations work. It could even be someone on the inside, someone leading the FBI astray, or someone with inner knowledge about the Thomas family. It was possible that there was a bigger conspiracy afoot, the agents postulated. Was someone from the top trying to stop Madeline from getting there?

  “Can we order room service?” Adam asked, holding his hands in front of his chest. “I’m starving!”

  “You bet,” Brandon responded, squatting down to Adam’s height. “Get me a burger.” He winked at his son who was already running to the phone with the menu in his hands.

  Madeline thanked the bellboys and handed them a tip. Jane and Agent Hart from the FBI were still standing in the doorway. “I suggest you lay low for the meantime,” Agent Hart said. “It’s probably best not to make big appearances until we resolve this.”

  “No appearances?” Jane laughed. “That’s hardly possible! Madeline has appearances scheduled daily until the reelection campaign launch! She can’t just lay low, that will destroy the campaign!”

  “I’d suggest you postpone the launch party,” Agent Hart replied. “We’re just not sure what this person is capable of and we’re trying to protect this family.”

  “Protect?” Jane yelled. “Postponing the event would be death for Madeline! Can you imagine what people would say? Everyone already knows about the event. If we cancel, people will say all sorts of things about Madeline! That she’s flaky, not ready for reelection, she’s unstable! It would destroy her career!”

  Agent Hart shrugged. “My job is to keep this family safe.”

  “No, Detective,” Madeline cut in. “Your job is to figure out who is blackmailing me and to stop this from getting out. If my career is ruined, then you didn’t do your job.”

  “Ma’am, we’re doing everything we can,” Agent Hart gave a nod and excused himself. He promised to update with any new information from forensics, the department that was already examining the new picture and tape. After Brandon and Madeline had listened to it in their kitchen, they called the FBI agents. Brandon was reluctant to hand over the new evidence. It was just too intimate, too revealing. Calling it evidence made it seem mechanical, like it wasn’t exposing a piece of Madeline or their marriage.

  “What should we do about the reelection campaign launch event?” Jane asked Madeline. “Everything is booked and we’ve already been getting RSVPs. Cancelling would look really bad.”

  “Don’t cancel yet,” Madeline responded. She still had hopes that this would be resolved in time. That she would be able to launch her reelection without traipsing through the mud on her way to the podium.

  “Maybe we need to step back on the SAVER Bill,” Jane said. “Tone down the rhetoric. Let’s pursue other things for now?”

  Madeline gave a reluctant nod. The SAVER Bill was what made voters like her. People liked her ideas, they would stand behind her come election day because of her principles. But the people in power didn’t like her principles as much. Maybe it was possible she had to step back if she even wanted to give the people a chance to vote for her on Election Day.

  “Let’s try to be less controversial for the next few weeks,” Madeline responded. Jane agreed and left the hotel suite, where Brandon was just getting off the phone.

  “Ordered you a Caesar Salad,”
he said to Madeline.

  “Aren’t you going to work today?” Madeline asked. Brandon hadn’t taken a day off work in months. He rarely did, only for very special occasions like when Madeline was sworn in after her first Senate seat win. Or for Career Day at the boys’ school.

  He shook his head. “I think I’m with Noah today. VACATION!” He yelled trying to make this as fun as possible for the kids. They agreed not to tell the boys the real reason for their hotel stay. The boys believed their house was being fumigated for termites and that they were just taking a nice vacation in the meantime. Noah had stopped jumping on the couch and was already flipping through channels on the large TV in the suite’s living room. Adam was busy exploring the bedrooms of the suite, “Noah and I have to share?” he squealed with excitement as his older brother rolled his eyes.

  Madeline walked to the kitchen where a coffee maker sat next to a bag of grinds. She began making coffee just as Brandon came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders. “It’s going to be all right,” he said quietly.

  “I think we should pay,” Madeline responded in a whisper.

  “What? Madeline! How could you say that?”

  “This can’t get out.”

  “What is going on? Why can’t you just tell me?”

  Madeline shook her head. Brandon didn’t understand. There was no fighting it if it came out. Her name would forever be associated with scandal, betrayal, nudity. She could never advance in politics. Whoever was vetting her for vice president would immediately drop her name from the running. If she ever wanted to advance to the White House, her opponents would constantly bring this up, no matter how hard she tried to focus the conversation on policy. “It’s too risky,” Madeline responded.