Upon the advice of his political strategists, he’d decided to use the opportunity of this late April venue to boost his presidential campaign. After all, what better day to advocate federal laws and regulations in the pursuit of environmental protection through the destruction of private property rights than Lenin’s birthday? Coincidentally, or not, it was the same date each year as Earth Day. History, Toomey reflected, had its uses.
Even as Moriarty predicted, money had flowed into Toomey’s campaign coffers, and he’d blown away his primary opponents, winning handily in New Hampshire and Iowa, then demolishing the field on Super Tuesday. There were several more states to go, but for all intents and purposes, he’d sewn up the Democratic nomination. The liberal base was energized with a candidate who supported their ideals. Toomey’s job now was to coalesce that support with voters in the center of the spectrum and the undecideds to win the presidential election in November. Earth Day and similar events were a way for him to gain broader exposure to convince the majority of the American people that he was the one they should choose.
Even as eco-terrorist attacks had ramped-up across the nation, Toomey’s stature increased. It was counter-intuitive that an environmental candidate would gain public approval in a time of escalating threats by people wreaking such havoc, but the flow of money into Toomey’s campaign allowed him to keep up a constant flow of rhetoric that dominated the news. Its effect was to mask and delude much of the populace, keeping his candidacy above the fray of everyday events.
SUVs were demolished at car dealerships with graffiti decrying their part in destroying the ozone layer. Roving bands of youth appeared from nowhere at night and ambushed diners who wore fur or leather at tony restaurants. The victims were doused with blood and covered with feathers. A ski resort burnt to the ground in Park City, Utah in eerie emulation of a similar incident several years earlier in Vail, Colorado. This time the devastation amounted to thirty-five million dollars. Several loggers died when their saws struck spikes buried deep in trees within a forest area specifically approved as viable for cutting. The destruction effected at HoneyCrest loomed like a beacon over everything else. It seemed to light the way as an example of how much damage could be accomplished through sheer will and dedication to a cause.
Toomey triangulated these events and a multitude of others. He stood at arm’s length from the saboteurs, yet embraced their ultimate aims. He advocated tough sentencing for the perpetrators if they were caught, but showed his concern for the endangered land and downtrodden animals that were the source of the militancy.
Toomey’s upcoming speech was aimed squarely at the Republicans who had squandered the earth’s resources and destroyed its heritage for the peoples of tomorrow. He’d said it before and he’d say it again on this broader stage of Earth Day. Repeat a lie often enough and loud enough and it became fact. Republicans had raped and pillaged and done everything in their power to lay waste to all that was precious during the last eight years. Their stewardship, their conservatism was a sham. Given their disastrous policies that generated more pollution, encouraged factories to create more asthma-inducing smog, and proliferated nuclear waste that threatened the very lives of the children in this great country, how could anyone vote for such environmental Nazis? Republican opposition to cleaning up greenhouse gases through the Kyoto accord, the Paris Climate Agreement, and subsequent global confabs was a national disgrace, and the world community was right to condemn the U.S. for its arrogant, imperialistic approach to the concerns of its good neighbors. More stringent requirements were necessary to assure that greedy capitalists of the opposition party didn’t hijack the earth any further. Besides, other congressional members had quoted authoritative studies that proved the earth had only twelve more years before it was poisoned to death by humanity. Yes, Franklin Toomey III was ready, and his golden tongue would expose his opponents for what they truly were.
He made his way to the speakers’ platform as one of Hollywood’s most beautiful and celebrated environmentalists introduced him. White-gold hair that shimmered in the sunshine, bleached teeth whiter than the finest alabaster, and a body buffed to perfection through rigorous workouts with an exorbitantly-priced personal trainer: she was exquisite, and she knew it. Toomey thanked her with a winning smile (at the same time taking a long peek into the tanned cleavage she so amply displayed), and she reluctantly stepped aside. He beamed at the truly diverse crowd—his people—who would elect him to the highest office in the land. Taking a breath, he launched into his speech.
***
A whispered buzz began simultaneously from within the assembled multitude by people who wore earphones connected to their mobile phones. Word spread like a mutating virus causing voices to rise in alarm. The wave of unease swept forward toward the podium until its crescendo caused Senator Toomey to pause in mid-sentence. No one was listening to him. Mass distress was swelling into sheer pandemonium.
Toomey covered the microphone and hissed to an aide, “What in blazes is going on?”
The woman turned and queried a bodyguard who seemed to be listening intently to his earpiece. “Uh-oh,” the man said.
“What?” Toomey demanded. “What’s happening to my audience?”
“There’s been a train derailment less than a mile from here,” the bodyguard said. “It was transporting some kind of hazardous chemical.” He licked his finger and raised it upward, although he needn’t have bothered. The breeze that had grown stronger in the last hour whipped his hair onto his forehead. “It’s directly upwind of us. Reports have it that the containers burst and noxious fumes are headed our way.”
Toomey’s first reaction was to flee, to run to his black limousine and put immediate distance between him and this place. He took three quick steps from the microphone and had a revelation. Is this my opportunity to look presidential? Can I use this situation to my advantage? Has Moriarty staged this disaster?
The sheer audacity of it stunned him. People’s lives were at risk. Forget that—his life—was at risk! Yet, he could all but wrap up the primaries and the general election by his actions right this instant. As much as his skin crawled with the thought of breathing deadly gases, he strode back to the microphone.
Even as he spoke and directed, helping to turn chaos into systematic evacuation, he felt the touch of the vapors on his face and hands. Already people were screaming and several had collapsed. Toomey’s orders became more urgent and the masses responded. His aide gave him a wet towel to place over his mouth, and the cold steel of the microphone caressed his lips beneath the cover. Nausea and a sense of faintness washed over him. His skin burned. The last thought he had before succumbing was that he hoped the TV cameras were still filming. What a photo-op his commanding presence would make!
Chapter 23
Cheshire Cat blog - May 5
Happy Cinco de Mayo. Here we are two weeks hence from the D.C. Disaster and more questions as to its cause continue to surface.
In the first days following what was declared an accident of epic proportions, politicians of both stripes called for tighter scrutiny of, well…everything. They cited toxic chemical concerns, the need for a plethora of new governmental regulations that would bankrupt half the companies in the industry, and outlawing the transport of any substance deemed an environmental hazard. (How would this work? Maybe they’d use Star Trek tranporter technology.)
Further investigation by law enforcement personnel has shown that sabotage caused the incident. In fact, it was a two-fer. Two separate, distinct, and strategically placed explosive devices created the problem. I say two explosive devices, but that’s not really accurate—it was really two types, and each device was detonated in multiple locations.
This is not widely known outside law enforcement circles: A very clever remotely controlled charge of C4 placed inside the chemical container blew out the structurally weakened metal of seven of the double hulled tanks. This was immediately followed by a derailing that at first blush looked accidenta
l, but upon detailed examination proved to be deliberately caused through a series of additional explosions.
Although eleven people died and scores were hospitalized, many of whom remain in critical condition from inhaling the chlorine fumes, one person who came away from the disaster smelling—not so much like a refugee from a swimming pool—but the beneficiary of a rose petal bath, was Senator Franklin Toomey III.
Now I don’t begrudge Toomey’s—dare I say it?—heroic stand in the face of the oncoming cloud of noxious gases. From what the TV cameras showed, he actually exhibited leadership in directing people away from the lethal onslaught. Yep, he responded to the emergency like a man on a mission. A presidential mission. And that’s my problem. The whole scenario seems too good to be true. Earth Day—Lenin’s birthday (you gotta love the connection). Toomey’s kind of people gathered in celebration. An awful catastrophe. A John Wayne-like role for the good senator. TV cameras record it all.
Wow. Who could ask for a more perfect national introduction to the front-running Democrat presidential wanna-be than a made-for-TV event?
We may learn more as time goes on that will prove my thinking wrong. But for now, color me skeptical. The whole set-up was a little too convenient.
Posted by Smiley at 9:26 PM. - Comments [2]
#1 Why haven’t the major media raised these speculations?
- Bill
#2 Seems like you’ve started writing a lot about environmental stuff. What’s the deal? I liked it better when you stuck to missing children.
- Nancy
Chapter 34
Cheshire Cat blog - May 5
My earlier post this evening raised a couple of good questions to which I thought I’d respond.
Major media response to any news story is predicated largely on the preconceptions of the reporters, and to some extent, by their management. Too often we find journalistic integrity compromised by the desire to do good. The refrain from many in this field when asked why they entered it is, “I want to make a difference;” not, “I want to provide objective news and let the public decide the merits.” The difference is profound. It means that normal biases are exaggerated through an effort to influence rather than report.
In the case of the D.C. Disaster, given the natural tendencies of reporters to be sympathetic to the environmental cause, much of their reporting will be slanted toward what they believe. (You think I’m making this up? Polls have shown people in the news media to be more than 80% registered Democrats and to vote that way. Democrats—liberals—progressives—love the environment as a cause more than any other.) Thus, they believe that the problem was caused by greedy capitalistic corporations and by the “fact” that too many people inhabit the earth. Beyond all that, they now think that Senator Toomey is the greatest American since JFK. Unfortunately, none of these premises are true despite surface appearances.
Regarding my recent bent toward writing about environmental issues in the blog, first let me make this perfectly clear. This is my weblog and I can write about whatever I please. You don’t like it? Go somewhere else. Continuing: let’s just say that there’s more here in the case of the D.C. Disaster and surrounding issues than meets the eye. I’ve concluded that a shadowy and nefarious link exists between certain factions in the environmental movement and the numerous cases of unexplained child abductions.
Posted by Smiley at 12:53 AMComments [0]
Chapter 25
The phone number on the back of the business card was unlisted. In the wake of Jason’s distress from receiving the severed child’s foot, he’d forgotten to track down the number. He was headed west out of the Loop on the Eisenhower and recalled seeing the notation on the card. The memory stopped him cold. Cutting the steering wheel sharply, he sliced over to the side of the expressway, and as speeding traffic rocked his vehicle, he searched through his coat—the one he’d worn the night of the bust—until one of the pockets yielded what he sought. He pulled out his cell phone and ran the number by reverse directory assistance hoping for a name and address. Sorry, he was told, that information couldn’t be provided.
He stepped on the gas and pulled into traffic. With a new sense of purpose, he took the nearest exit and headed back downtown.
***
Twenty minutes later Jason was face-to-face with Paul Garner, who was grimacing and making negative sounds. Garner worked for Verizon as a data base administrator for the phone company’s customer records division.
Three years ago, Jason had gone the extra mile while investigating a money laundering scheme that had found its way inside the huge phone carrier. A body of evidence had pointed toward Garner, but Jason had his doubts. Through his diligence, he’d determined that Garner had been set up as a fall guy and was completely innocent of wrong-doing. He owed Jason big time and twice previously Jason had requested favors. This third time was giving Garner heartburn.
“Man, the company security guys are cracking down on anybody providing unauthorized information. They’re really serious these days. My giving you that listing without a warrant could get me into very hot water. I don’t want to lose my job over this. I got two kids and a wife who likes to shop.”
He turned away and pulled on his cigarette, letting the white stream escape through his nose as his gaze followed a sailboat on the blue waters of Lake Michigan. The sails billowed and luffed when the breeze died. A taxi behind them laid on his horn, making them both jump.
“I don’t want to put you in jeopardy, Paul, but you’re good. You can do this in your sleep. I’ve seen you work. This is nothing for someone with your skills.”
“You don’t know the tracking mechanisms Security has implemented. This is not a slam dunk anymore.”
“Paul, I need to know who owns that telephone number, and I can’t get a warrant right now.”
Garner’s shoulders sagged. He took one last drag on his cigarette and propelled the butt with one finger into the street. Sparks flew as it struck the bumper of an accelerating taxi. On the lake the wind picked up, and the sailboat began tacking.
The phone company employee rubbed his brow and said to Jason, “Okay, I’ll do it now.”
***
An hour and twenty minutes later Jason was back at his desk pondering what to make of the information Paul Garner had given him. He’d been hoping for something dramatic, like a link to Senator Toomey or similar revelation. Instead it was for a private school far west of Chicago near the town of Oswego. It had a nondescript name, Smithfield Academy, which meant nothing to him. He might have blown it off under other circumstances, except that an unlisted number for a school was curious and, more importantly, it had shown up on the back of the business card for the Executive Director of Gaiatic Charities and was in the possession of the Gianellis. With a shrug, Jason reached for his computer mouse.
A short while later, Jason noticed Nancy Evans was nearby taking care of paperwork. He rose and tapped her on the shoulder. “You want to take a ride?”
She looked up at him with a quizzical expression. When he didn’t elaborate, she nodded. “Give me three minutes.”
***
“You doing all right about Bennett?” Evans asked Jason as they sped westward on the interstate.
“Yeah, it was a shock losing him like that, but I’m okay.”
Although Jason had spent many days in the last few weeks in the office, he and Evans hadn’t spoken much despite their now permanent assignment as partners. Such a pairing always required a feeling out period before a comfort factor settled in. Sometimes it never did. It was like a marriage. New partners had to come to trust and depend on each other to the maximum extent. Their lives depended on it. If something prevented that mutual assuredness, it was almost a certainty that an irreparable schism would occur and one or both agents would seek new partners. The bureau would rather have a divorce than a constantly squabbling couple.
Trust was a major issue with Jason. Anyone and everyone in the Service was suspect in his mind, yet he had to do
his job. Surreptitiously, Jason had investigated Nancy Evans’ background. Through that check he’d come to believe she was clean. He believed in the Reagan motto when dealing with the Soviets back in the 1980s: Trust, but verify. He wished his paranoia didn’t run so deep, but it did.
Because of his ongoing security concerns, Jason could only convey a portion of his suspicions about the case. Also holding him back was his pervasive personal connection. Drennan’s injunction not to pursue Gaiatic Charities made the situation even more touchy. Jason had to constantly monitor what he said for fear of inadvertently slipping. He had objectives and priorities that weren’t necessarily consistent with satisfying his superiors and not getting Evans into trouble.
Evans was a stoic woman who didn’t talk much about herself. Jason had learned that she lived alone and had two cats. Her voting record was consistently Republican, certainly a check in the plus column from Jason’s perspective. Prior to a certain date, she’d always voted Democrat. Something had turned her around. She’d been a high performer in school and had graduated from the IRS academy near the top of her class. She volunteered at an after-school reading program at her local library and helped out at VFW events. Her strong support of defense initiatives won her rave reviews with the veterans Jason queried.
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