The pierced guy looked down thoughtfully at his chain-wrapped biker boots for a moment, then added, “Now look at the trouble with this triple alliance in the Middle East. Three tribes of people, three slices of a big ass pie coming together as one. Scary, man. The new Persia has arisen. Now is the time we should cut our losses and run. We’ve been fighting and giving back pieces of that sand trap for twenty years, and for what? It’s still about the oil and our government trying to control the world.”
Without thinking, Jordan blurted out, “Nearly every war ever fought has been over the control of resources.”
They both turned to her as if in rehearsed unison.
“Oh crap,” she said, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry, you guys. I guess I was thinking out loud.” Jordan felt their eyes upon her and immediately regretted her outburst. But the subject was one on which she had strong opinions.
“No, no, that’s cool,” said the one with the sixties haircut. “Finish the thought.” He grinned at her as though she was already part of the discussion.
“Forgive me for crashing in, but why do you think things are so different now? The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor to cripple us in the Pacific so they would have unfettered access to oil. Germany invaded Africa and Russia for the same reason. Israel was conquered and re-conquered throughout history because it was the natural land path between Africa and Europe. And there was fresh water to fight over. Honestly, it’s stupid that we’re still dependent on foreign oil when we’ve achieved energy independence here. But could you imagine the economic chaos if suddenly we had no access to oil? Global manufacturing stops, commerce quits, all the money dries up, and the military is crippled. Then we’re invaded, and we learn to speak Chinese, or Farsi, the end.”
Jordan finished her quick summary of the history of war and looked from one guy to the other. They both grinned back. The one with the sixties hair held his hand out and said, “My name’s Ethan, and this is Cody.”
Jordan introduced herself and stepped over to shake their hands. They both still grinned back mischievously. “What?” she asked.
Cody, the multiple pierced blonde one, said, “It’s not very often someone finds our debates interesting enough to join in.”
“And never by someone who uses facts in their arguments instead of pure emotion,” added Ethan, the Buffalo Springfield look-alike.
“Yes, well, I’m surrounded by this stuff every day, so I hear some pretty compelling points of view.”
Ethan smiled again. “Tis the town to argue politics. Do you work on the hill?”
“I guess you could say that.” Jordan enjoyed the conversation but knew the potential danger of revealing too much information about herself. She was not required to have a secret service escort and didn’t look forward to dealing with such a boat anchor in her life. She had been careful to ensure she remained incognito enough to lead a nearly ordinary life. The day would come soon enough when a small security force would become mandatory. Certain people would always be eager to exploit her, even harm her if they knew who she was. She decided this was not the time to let her guard down. “I’m an assistant on the Karlson campaign,” she offered, thinking that should be enough information for now.
“Well, she’s on the right side,” said Cody, elbowing Ethan. “I was hoping for Michael Lacrosse to get the nomination, but Karlson got it, so she gets my support.”
Jordan wasn’t thrilled with the lackluster endorsement for her mother. Still, it was better than the alternative. She was careful not to show emotion to such statements. She bit her tongue and kept silent.
Ethan wasn’t so kind. “This is part of the great divide between Cody and me,” he said. “Let’s face it, one party thinks with its head and the other with its heart. I have a few friends running businesses, and I watch the government take more and more of what they earn. People in this country have been convinced that businesses are evil things. They are treated as though they’ve done something terrible because they work harder to earn more and want to keep it.”
“We’re just saying everyone should pay their fair share,” Cody said.
“And what is fair?” Ethan asked. “How much more than fifty percent of all that I earn should a government be entitled to take unquestioned? Didn’t we already have a revolution because of taxation without representation?”
That was her cue. Jordan knew American history, and no amount of self-control would hold her from commenting on her favorite subject. “The funny thing is,” she said, “it’s your representatives that keep pushing for more taxes. Alexander Hamilton would have taken up arms against his new government if this had happened in his lifetime. And he’s the one that created the American tax system in the first place, modeled after the British structure of all places. Well, not income taxes, of course. That came much later. But government and military to be funded by the people was his doing. What we have now, this tax and spend nightmare, is not at all what he had in mind.”
“Wow,” exclaimed Ethan, nodding and eyeing her like he’d discovered a hidden jewel. “Senator Karlson must not require her staffers to share her opinions on spending policy.”
“Oh, believe me, she does!” Jordan laughed. “So she and I just don’t have these conversations. I think that’s why I jumped in when you two were talking. Sometimes I just need to vent. And I did, and I’m good to go.” With that, Jordan stepped back to her table and packed up her laptop.
“Hey, wait,” called Ethan. He jumped up from his seat to catch her as she headed toward the door. “Cody and I play tonight at Nancy Whiskey. Can I put you on the guest list?”
“Seriously, you two political talk show hosts are in a band?” After listening to twenty minutes of point-counter-point, Jordan was having trouble imagining these guys rocking out. But now that she thought about it, they definitely looked the part. Even if they turned out to be a mundane DC garage band, it would be a nice change of pace, and she was happy for the invitation.
“That might be rough, but I’ll see what I can do, thanks.”
Ethan reached for her hand, shook it, and slipped her a band business card. “There’s a Facebook page for the group on the back. We go on at eleven. It would be nice to talk with you again.”
As he released her hand, Jordan slowly stepped back, their gazes remaining fixed. She smiled and began thinking that this had been the most enjoyable moment she’d had in weeks.
12
Arlington, Virginia
Gene Lawton washed down a stale sandwich with cold coffee as he paced past his desk. He eyed the pages of ideas he’d scribbled so far. The answer wasn’t among them. This was beginning to feel like the quest for the holy grail. There had to be a way to make this work. Every instinct told him so. Still, the elusive perfect plan danced beyond the periphery of his imagination. He was exhausted but would not, could not consider quitting. Nothing else mattered until he figured this out.
He had spent the last twenty-two hours brainstorming. Scribbling down every thought that came into mind. He’d even called on a small group of trusted advisors for additional input. It was a fine line to tread as he sought their ideas without giving away too many details. Most of what he’d learned could not be shared with anyone. That made the task all the more challenging. He glanced over at the remaining day-old sandwiches as he got a whiff of his own odor. All thoughts of hunger quickly dissipated. At least he could take time out to brew a fresh pot of coffee. An infusion of caffeine might spark some life into his numbed brain. He headed for the reception area to get one going.
The implications of what he was attempting rattled him, and rightfully so. Interfering with a clandestine military mission to save this campaign could be considered treason. What if his actions cost the lives of the people involved. He would be forced to live with that grief behind bars. But did the reward equal the risk? Was getting his candidate into the White House still the best and most logical plan of action? Lawton was not the type to accept failure in any form. The answer then was an
emphatic yes.
So, on to question number two, how to go about scuttling a military mission? He would also have to guarantee it could not boomerang back on himself or his candidate. God, she would owe him big for this one. Who else could she find that would even ponder these questions before turning tail and heading for the hills.
He poured himself a fresh cup and decided to take a short break. He found the remote and clicked on the TV, then dropped into the couch.
The television was tuned to a news network with a short clip from Afghanistan looping over and over. It was a common practice used when the story’s length was longer than the accompanying video footage. He watched as the same four Marines kept climbing out of a Humvee to take up defensive positions. The image then switched to a group of Afghanis burning an American flag. Same old same old, he thought as he stood up and began pacing the room.
His head throbbed as though it were filled with gears out of synch, grinding and squealing like metal on metal. His mind was exhausted, incapable of any new thoughts. He fumbled with the remote, flipping mindlessly through channels, paying little attention to anything displayed. Two-hundred stations, he thought, and nothing worth watching.
A blip of a news story on an unfamiliar station caught his attention. He stared at the images, feeling a connection being made deep in the folds of his brain. He thought of the documents and photos laid out on his desk and then looked back at the news network. Neural synapses suddenly sparked and returned online, pulsing and firing. His head hummed like a rebooting dynamo. The new thought came to him like a vibrant dream. An incomplete framework of a massive idea revealed itself. He immediately began constructing the missing segments to complete the plan. Brainstorms such as these were the reason he was so valuable to his clients. But this one took even him by surprise. This was incredible! And assuming the demeanor and tenacity of the people it would involve, he could all but guarantee the results would be exactly what he needed.
He rushed back to his desk, grabbed his notepad, and began scribbling the steps necessary for his plan. He had filled three pages and was halfway through a fourth when the phone chirped on his desk.
“Where have you been?” Karlson demanded, sounding as much concerned as annoyed. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”
“Katherine, there’s been a rather significant development. I think it best that we meet in private to discuss the details.”
“Well, aren’t you the voice of doom and gloom! What’s happened?”
“I received a bit of a bombshell from a new inside source. It’s going to change everything one way or another. I’m still developing a strategy so we can use it to our advantage.” Lawton looked over his notes like a general studying field maps and battle lines.
“What could possibly hurt us now?” she asked. “We lead in every poll, and we’re still gaining ground.”
“If we play this right, it may amount to nothing more than a speed bump. But it’s big, and there’s much to discuss. We have major decisions to make that can’t be done over the phone.”
“You’re scaring me, Gene,” she said. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”
13
Washington, DC
Jordan was pleased that the business meeting had taken less time than anticipated. The company executives made an appearance and took some photos with her. Brief statements were made to the press expressing their gratitude and loyalty to the Karlson camp. She’d seen it all before. This was a typical dog and pony show. Jordan was polite and engaging during their conversations, which she found vague and short on specifics. It was clear they didn’t expect her to know much about their product. They would have been surprised. She didn’t take it personally, though. It was the way things were done in this town. Another hoop to jump through for the team.
A chauffeured town car awaited at the Essex Hotel’s main entrance. Jordan’s stomach grumbled as she climbed in. She rarely ate while on the clock and had shied away from the impressive spread of sandwiches and appetizers. Jordan had seen candid photos of others caught with a mouthful of food or sipping a drink and was not about to offer up such an embarrassing photo op. The campaign didn’t need that kind of negative press right now.
Needless to say, she was starved. She asked the driver to swing past her favorite Chinese takeout joint, phoning the order ahead to save time. She would eat and relax back at the condo for a few hours before heading out to see her new friends play. Hopefully, she could talk her best friend, Amy Pierson, into joining her.
Jordan sat back, took in a deep breath, and caught herself thinking about Ethan again. It was surprising how much she looked forward to seeing him. This was such an awkward feeling. She didn’t typically warm up to guys that hit on her. Then again, he really hadn’t, had he? She was the one who forced herself into a private conversation. They could have easily blown her off. But here was this nice-looking guy cut from the rough, yet so out of the ordinary, so unpretentious and sincere.
She had tried dating in DC and found herself paired up with young stuffed suited wannabes. They were typically so transparent, saying or doing anything to latch on to their next ride up to Capitol Hill. A few had shown interest in her. She found their actions, their demeanor, and for that matter, their lack of normal human traits not worthy of her time. They were perfect, with the whitest teeth, the brightest smiles. Hair arranged painstakingly to frame their handsome faces. They said all the right things, and they were painfully polite. Maybe that was the biggest turnoff. They were like talking Ken dolls. So polished, starched, and probably prettier than most of the women they dated.
She chuckled to herself, thinking she preferred a guy with a little dirt under his fingernails. Someone creative that didn’t always say the right thing or try to live life scripted. She wondered if she was describing Ethan or maybe hoping he was as genuine as he seemed. This wasn’t like her, and she thought about pushing the whole thing out of her mind. Then again, what harm was there in pursuing a relationship if it offered a temporary escape from the anything-but-honest world she worked in?
She pulled out her phone to call Amy, but it began vibrating before she could dial. She read the incoming caller ID and smiled as she pressed the answer button. “Hi, Daddy! How are you?”
“I should ask you the same, kiddo. Are you so busy that you don’t have time to check in with your dad once in a while?”
Jordan realized it had been over a week since she had talked to her father. Not a terribly long time, but unusual for them. She had an endearing relationship with Clifford West, and they conversed regularly. The subject matter of their discussions covered most anything, but rarely politics. She was grateful for that, especially now.
“You know mom,” she said. “She always has something for me to do. I just did a meet and greet with some local business bigwigs.”
“Ah,” he answered in a knowing tone. “Sending her lieutenant to muster support with the if-then delegation.”
“Exactly,” Jordan chuckled at her father’s quick and accurate assessment of the meeting. If Senator Karlson addressed their lobbying concerns, then they would continue to offer their support. That was how it worked, pure and simple.
“Keeping up with your classes?”
“Yeah,” she responded in a less confident tone. “Even with the reduced credits I’m carrying, a couple of these subjects are tough. And getting support online can be a bear.”
“You can always come home for a few weeks and do it the old-fashioned way sitting in a classroom.”
“Nice thought.” She paused, thinking how great it would be to go home and be nothing more than a student again. “Things are heating up here, but I would love to make that happen soon. I can’t recharge my battery as fast out here as I can at home.”
“That makes perfect sense. DC is a very demanding place. Some people live for that environment, but it hits you like it hits me. It takes away more than it gives back.”
“That’s exactly how it feels,” she exclaimed,
glad to know they both saw the land of superficial for what it was. But then, they always had that connection. A simple conversation with her dad could always bring her back from dark places.“Meeting any normal people out there?”
“Funny you should put it that way, but yes. I’ve had a few nice conversations with some locals. I’m looking forward to more.”
“Very good. Did your mom meet them?”
“No, not yet, we only met this week.”
“She will soon enough then. I think doing background checks on everyone you meet is your mother showing she loves you.”
Jordan laughed out loud. She had entertained that same thought on more than one occasion. “I do cut her some slack on that one. She’s in go mode, and you know how she gets when she’s hell-bent on a goal.”
“Yes,” the governor agreed, “and you’ve always known not to stand in the path of oncoming heavy machinery.” He chuckled at his own line. “She has her moments of lucidity here and there. Hopefully, you can get some plain old mom time soon.”
“True.”
“Speaking of having no time, I gotta run myself. Just wanted to check-in and make sure you’re holding up okay.”
“I am, and thanks. Hope to see you soon.”
“Same here. Love you, kid.”
“Love you, dad.”
She started putting the phone away, then remembered about calling Amy. The conversation with her father had topped off her tank. She smiled, noticing the sunlight that streamed through the side window now felt a little warmer and brighter.
14
Two straight days of non-stop activity, and Gene Lawton never felt more engaged and on target. The formidable list of contacts to call had steadily dwindled as he worked non-stop, downing pot after pot of coffee while pacing the room and talking incessantly into the ever-present phone earpiece. The plan was now in place, with most of the heavy lifting complete. The last piece of the puzzle would be to call in every favor and promise owed him or the senator. That could come later. For now, he concentrated on the multiple roles he would play in this twisted reality theater. He switched seamlessly from producer to screenplay writer, and finally, director.
ENEMY WITHIN THE GATES Page 7