Among this audience were a few of the elite who would strongly influence her decisions and dictate her policies. Operating from the shadows, they would essentially write her marching orders. Right now, that didn’t matter. Right now, it was all about Katherine Karlson, and she loved it. Her smile beamed brightly with the warmth that thousands of movie fans had fallen in love with. The teleprompters flashed and queued up to the first line of her speech.
“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished and courageous members of the labor organizations, the backbone, the muscle that propels this great nation, good evening! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support and your attendance here tonight. Make no mistake, this is the turning point and the time to re-write the script for our country’s future. It starts here, it starts now, with you and me and the promises I will make to all of you. And with God as my witness, I swear that I keep my promises!”
The room exploded with a fresh round of applause and cheers with nearly every attendee on their feet. Karlson felt a sense of control that she had only dared to imagine. Here were her loyal followers. The ones she needed to fall into step so that millions more would follow suit and join the parade. She hosted many fundraisers in the past few months. This one, however, signaled the actual beginning of the slow, steady walk down Pennsylvania Avenue to that seat of power, and that grand monument of all past presidents. To her new home. At this moment she felt as though she were being handed the front door keys. Every problem of the past would now be a minor formality.
50
“You can’t do this to me!”
Jordan struggled against the vice-like grip of the private security agent. A second dark-suited mass of muscle stepped in and grabbed her other arm, nearly lifting her off her feet. They directed her down a short hallway toward a nearby exit.
“I refuse to go with you,” she yelled, hoping someone would hear her pleas. “You have no authority to do this!” She dug in her feet and resisted. It had a negligible effect. They moved her as though she presented no opposition at all.
The first agent used his elbow to push through the exit door. He directed them out into the back parking lot toward an awaiting black van. Jordan stared at it as the last of her confidence drained away. She half expected to be confronted by her mother’s guards but not taken by them.
Murray promised she would be safe. No harm would come to her while she collected the needed evidence. But the vision before her exceeded her worst fears. They were going to take her, and she would disappear. This time, no one would ever find her.
“Daddy, where are you!” Jordan pleaded under her breath. “I need you now.”
She desperately scanned the parking lot and rooftops of adjacent buildings, searching for her rescuers. They were nowhere to be found. Despair tightened around her chest, and she found it difficult to breathe. An angry tear formed in her eye as she grit her teeth in defiance. Every step closer to that van diminished her hopes of ever seeing freedom again. No! She told herself, fighting through the fear. I am not going in there. No! These bastards are not getting away with this a second time! Adrenalin surged through her pounding heart as Jordan summoned every bit of strength. Core survival instincts took over. In one swift move, she shot her arms up and then rolled them out while throwing her weight backward. It was a simple self-defense maneuver taught to her by a school friend. It worked perfectly, taking her captors by surprise. She broke free, then turned and ran across the parking lot. Jordan had put ten feet between them before they recovered from their shock and gave chase. Their footsteps echoed off the walls. The sound willed her to go faster, faster than she’d ever run before. She searched for a path of escape, caught sight of a bustling intersection ahead, and ran toward it.
Suddenly, from behind the building, from behind parked cars, from every direction, agents came running toward her with weapons drawn. An overwhelming dread consumed her as she realized her momentary escape had been for nothing. It was over. Her legs stopped pumping and she came to a halt, still disbelieving this was how it would end. Her eyelids fluttered as though working to expel the terrible images from sight.
Murray hadn’t lied, but he’d been so wrong. “They won’t take you again,” he promised. “You’ll be safe, but you have to let them try.” She closed her eyes and awaited the inevitable. What a foolish daydream, she thought. Who were they to believe they ever stood a snowball’s chance in hell to beat her mother at her own game? Still in all, it was better to try than to accept the fate being imposed. A noble and worthwhile effort at that, she had to admit. Even though his plan ultimately failed, she loved Murray for trying. She loved them all for what they attempted. It had been the most amazing experience of her life and the most precious gift she’d ever received.
The squeal of tires tore away the thought. Jordan opened her eyes as another black van skidded to a halt directly before her. The side and rear doors burst open as more agents clamored out and poured into the parking lot. . .then ran right past her.
Jordan turned to watch in astonishment, only now noticing the large, yellow FBI letters emblazoned on the backs of their jackets. The passenger door of this new van flew open. A man in a gray suit leaped out and ran toward her with a look of dogged determination. It was her father. He grabbed her in his arms and pulled her down between two parked cars.
The sound of a bull horn cut through the surrealistic backdrop of the charging onslaught. “Drop your weapons. Drop ’em now! You are completely surrounded!”
Jordan peered out from between the cars to see the two agents who had dragged her from the auditorium unholstering their sidearms and tossing them to the ground. Their hands went in the air. A small army of FBI agents swarmed in from every direction and laid them face down on the black asphalt, cuffing their hands behind them. Another group surrounded the first van and ordered the occupants out. Two men opened the doors, climbed out, and got on their knees with hands on their heads. FBI agents rushed in, and within seconds, they, too, were cuffed and down.
Jordan looked at her father. His suit was a mess from shielding her when they dove for cover. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight, finally feeling safe again. Knowing now that the terrible nightmare was really over.
“You did it!” she exclaimed, sobs of joy catching in her throat. “You came for me!”
He looked through misty eyes, unable and unwilling to fight back his own tears as he finally held his daughter again. He brushed a lock of hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “Little girl, I will always be there for you.”
51
“Friends,” Karlson spoke into the microphone, then paused until the room fell whisper silent. “We have been told by an elitist president that many of the benefits we propose are impossible to fulfill. He would tell you the costs are unsustainable. That such changes would challenge our constitution. That a nation built on capitalism cannot demand its wealthiest to shoulder the weight of redistribution, ensuring all Americans the essentials for a prosperous life. To that, I say, ‘just because you haven’t found a way does not mean it cannot be done.’ It most certainly can be accomplished. And it must be. I will find the answers. I will level the playing field to ensure that everyone among us has what they need. And that everyone with the ability to help make that happen will become part of the solution.
We will all share in the wealth of this great nation, and we will all be equal very, very soon. The answers are more straightforward than you would think. It is the commitment to implement change that is the greatest challenge. Well, I stand before you as the agent of change. I am here to make those difficult decisions. I am here to accomplish what those who came before me have failed to do. I stand before you and make this promise; trust and fight with me for all that is rightfully yours, and today’s dream of an equal America can and will come to pass. Then, when your friends ask why you choose to join me, tell them of these dreams we share. Tell them that with their support, we will have the power. Tell them that together we will change the wo
rld. Tell them, ‘Yes. . .Kat. . .Can!’”
From overhead, a thousand gold and silver balloons were released and floated down into the crowd. Each was emblazoned with the new campaign slogan, ‘Yes Kat Can!’ The sound system boomed out the Star-Spangled Banner.
The audience reacted in kind. They jumped to their feet, catching and swatting the balloons while roaring their approval. Karlson watched over the assembly of influential labor leaders as they played like children with a new toy. Her smile remained fixed as her eyebrows dipped maniacally. She scanned the exuberant audience, then looked backstage to Gene Lawton. How this excited her so! Her thoughts filled with having him inside of her tonight. The vision abruptly dissolved in the wash of stage lights. Standing beside Gene was her husband, Clifford West. His expression was unreadable. But she felt his eyes laser locked with hers, scanning her internally. Examining her every thought. A stab of disquiet tore at her confidence, and she grit her teeth behind the smile that never faltered. She was, after all, an excellent actress.
Murray listened to the live feed of the senator’s speech through headphones. Karlson reached her crescendo, and he watched on a monitor as the balloons were released from overhead and dropped into the cheering crowd. “Here we go,” he called to Ethan and Mark as he pressed a key on his laptop, sending the override command to the house system. The result was near-instantaneous.
Two floors above in the A/V control room, Duane Hershey pushed a master slider of his audio console, increasing the volume of the national anthem. He watched out the large window overlooking the controlled chaos. Below him, the formally dressed crowd romped and jumped at balloons like brainless idiots. Hershey chuckled at the frightful thought that these were the people who would be running the country. He rolled his eyes and spoke into his headset microphone. “Tommy, Queue video clip B in three, two. . .wait, what just happened?”
Hershey watched the signal lights flicker on his console. His mouth fell open as the motorized audio sliders began moving to new levels by themselves.
“What the hell is this?” He yelled, pulling the controllers back to the original positions, only to watch them return to the new values as soon as he let go.
“Tommy, I lost control of this board. Find the user manual, fast!”
He and Tommy began digging through empty road cases for the manuals on the new equipment he had used only twice before. He had no clue how this was even possible. His only hope was to call the manufacturer for emergency support. He prayed there would be someone standing by.
A single line of computer code containing a new IP address was all it took. Murray was successfully hacked into the house system and wrested control of all audio and video from his competitor. He knew that Duane would be unable to figure his way out of this until long after the night was over.
“We’re in, guys,” he said, grinning at Ethan and Mark, who stood ready to replay their edited audio and video clips. Murray readied the pirate master controller. “Stand by. The real show starts now.”
Karlson allowed the moment to play out as the audience remained immersed in frolic, giddily cheering and laughing. But then, something changed. Slowly, one by one, the crowd’s attention was drawn to the side monitors. The right screen displayed a shot of a large desk with people sitting before it, their backs to the camera. The left screen was filled with video noise, flashing like colorful snow. An attractive Middle Eastern woman stepped into view on the right monitor. She picked up a file from the credenza and held it up for the others to see. Even from the bad angle and marginal video quality, it was easy to read the bold red header. ‘TOP SECRET EYES ONLY.’
A collective gasp resonated through the audience as all other activities ceased. An unnatural silence rolled through the room, leaving only scattered conversations and the occasional clink of silverware. In time, even that dissipated to nothing. The entire stunned audience watched as the woman flipped through the classified file pages as a cameraman filmed the contents.
The left screen suddenly flashed, then resolved into the image of a woman and two men with their backs to the camera. They were watching a monitor as it displayed the people in the next room rifling through the top-secret document.
“They’re watching it happen!” someone yelled from the back of the room. The missing audio signal now crackled to life through the forty-thousand-watt sound system. A familiar voice commented, “Christ, she’s good! Tell me she hasn’t pulled that one before.”
One of the men said, “I think we have what we need here. Let’s finish this up.”
All three abruptly left the room.
Seconds later, Katherine Karlson reappeared on the right screen. By that time, the secret folder had been returned to its original position. The film crew now sat patiently, waiting for the return of their host, unaware that their act of espionage was both planned and captured on video.
The audience remained deathly still, watching in disbelief as the likeness of Karlson ambled behind the desk, sat, and faced the group, wearing a deceptive smile. No one dared move or utter a syllable in the palpable silence.
Oblivious to the images revealed to her audience, Karlson stood perplexed behind the podium. What had stifled their mood? She found out soon enough as a recording of her own voice began playing back through the massive sound system. Her jaw dropped, mouth agape, nails clawing into the sides of the podium. This could not be happening!
The audience paid no attention to her and stared instead at the images on the large monitors. Her beaming Oscar-nominated smile replayed as she apologized for her brief absence to the people who had just photographed state secrets.
“Now, where were we?” She asked. Her demeanor did nothing to cloak the undeniable truth that she had betrayed her country. Everyone in the auditorium now knew it as well.
News reporters broke out their cell phones to call in the story while their cameramen filmed the video.
Karlson listened to the audio track, aware now that it was the security footage from her office. She glanced nervously to the side of the stage for Lawton. He was nowhere to be found. One of her security team was talking into his wrist microphone. Karlson moved out from behind the podium and waved to get his attention. She pointed up at the audio-video control room four levels above the auditorium floor.
“Stop them!” she screamed.
She fought to regain her composure, searching for the words to convince this crowd that what they were viewing was not at all as it appeared.
She looked over once more to the place where Gene last stood and saw her husband instead, staring back with an odd expression. This hadn’t surprised him at all. Did he know this was going to happen? That outside forces would seize control of her speech? “No, damn it,” she growled, refusing to accept that this was where and how her story would end.
She stepped back behind the podium to console the shocked audience. “My friends, I don’t know who is playing this terrible prank on us, but I assure you it is not what it seems. If we can get the perpetrators of this hoax out of the control room and stop this horrid lie from playing any longer, then I’m sure that—”
“Reasonable? You revealed military secrets to the enemy. Why? Why would you betray your own country like that?”
A new audio track reverberated loudly through the sound system. It took Karlson a moment to make the connection. It was Jordan’s voice, but where did this conversation emanate?
“Because that’s how things get done in this town. Give and take. I gave up the details of a mission that had the potential of destroying everything I’ve worked for.”
A collective loud murmur went up from the room.
“It would have probably shortened the war,” the other voice replied.
“Oh, there’s so much more at stake here than just that.”
Karlson pounded her fist on the podium, shaking her head as she listened.
“That mission would have jeopardized everything we’ve been working for.”
“Oh, dear God,”
Karlson choked out. A jolt of panic tore up her spine as she began to comprehend the full gravity of the situation. Her diaphragm muscles convulsed, emptying her of breath. She swooned but remained on her feet, clinging to the podium for balance. “Not this,” she mumbled, realizing the origin of this conversation. Hot, acidic bile burned up the back of her throat. “Jordan,” she whispered, “Jordan wore a wire and recorded our conversation! This can’t be happening! This can’t be…” She looked up at the control room and noticed the expression of helpless frustration in the face of the sound engineer. He threw his hands up in resignation. He had no control over anything being broadcast. Karlson stared in disbelief, her hands held up and out as if pleading to a higher power for intervention.
“Bullshit! How could ending the war sooner possibly be a bad thing?”
Few in the audience recognized the other voice as Karlson’s daughter, Jordan.
“We couldn’t allow that to happen until after the election. Only then could we use diplomacy to end it on our terms.”
“Diplomacy? Mother, let’s be honest, you don’t know a fucking thing about diplomacy. That’s why you pay people like Gene to negotiate for you.”
A small cheer erupted from the audience. Now everyone knew the identity of the other voice.
“If that mission had been allowed to go forward, then yes, it could have ended the war before the election. But do you have any idea what that would have meant? Hell no, you don’t. It would have meant that the current president would take credit for the victory on his watch. His poll numbers would have shot through the roof. That would have been the end of my campaign right then and there. But now we can wait until I’m in office. I’ll send in my diplomats and broker a peace treaty. We will end this war on my watch, on my terms. History will reflect that I accomplished what five presidents failed to do before me. My legacy will be carved in stone, with a second term all but guaranteed.”
ENEMY WITHIN THE GATES Page 29