Lady Justice and the Candidate (7 page)

    “This is my pledge --- I will not --- let me repeat that --- I will not accept contributions to my campaign from large corporations. I will not be bought!

    “Consequently, you will not see any TV ads from me, slinging mud at my competition.

    “You will not see my face on signs stuck in your neighbor’s yards.

    “What you will see, as the weeks go by, is more of my plan to reform our government and restore this nation to the greatness it once was.

    “My appeal to you is this; if you liked what you have heard this evening, I need your help spreading the word. We have videotaped this conference tonight, and it will be posted on my website, FosterForPresident.com. Share this video and the ones to come, with your friends and families.

    “Let’s show the political machines that not just millionaires and bought-and-paid-for candidates can be President.

    “If you want a president that truly represents YOU, then let’s do this!”

    The crowd stood and cheered.

    “Okay,” Mark said, “Pay close attention. This is where you fit in. We’re establishing a precedent tonight.”

    We watched as Ben left the stage and disappeared out of view for maybe sixty seconds.

    When he returned, he left the stage and entered the floor section where the attendees had been seated.

    He began shaking hands and I could read his lips enough to know that he was saying, “Thank you for coming tonight,” and “Thank you for your support.”

    I could see one problem right away --- Ben was a smiler --- I’m not.

    While I’m not a sourpuss, I could see that I was going to have to spend some time in front of a mirror making my pearly whites as genuine as possible.

    “This is where he’s most vulnerable,” Mark said. “There are just so many people to watch and so much confusion. If Ben becomes a target, this would be the perfect time.”

    I didn’t find that comforting since it would be me out there pressing the flesh.

    I would always be wondering if I were in the crosshairs of some assassin’s rifle.

    It was going to be an interesting four months!

    When Ben returned to the suite, his excited staffers greeted him.

    "Great job, Ben!"

    "We're on the map now!"

    "Fantastic opening salvo!"

    "The big guys had better pay attention!"

    When all of the rah-rah stuff had subsided, Ben pulled me aside, "So what do YOU think, Walt. Any regrets about throwing in with a wild-eyed radical?"

    "None at all," I replied without hesitation. "I believe that everything you said was right on target."

    I hesitated, not sure if I was overstepping my position as the new guy, "May I ask a question?"

    "Sure. Fire away."

    "I heard you mention your website, FosterForPresident.com. I was just wondering who was hosting and managing that for you?"

    He pointed to a guy across the room, "Luke has been trying to keep up with it, but with all the stuff going on, he's falling behind."

    "I don't want to butt in where I'm not wanted, but there are a couple of fellows that I think could be a big help with your website and social media campaign."

    "And who would that be?"

    "Arnold Goldblume and Nicholas Thatcher. I met them a couple of months ago and this stuff is right down their alley."

    Mark Davenport bristled when he heard me mention the names.

    "Goldblume and Thatcher! You've got to be kidding!"

    I should have realized that Mark would be skeptical. A few months ago, he had suspected them of being terrorists and had recruited me to infiltrate their little group. As it turned out, they were just part of a group that called themselves 'The Watchers,' and their goal was to keep tabs on the government agencies that were interfering in our private lives. After hearing Ben's address, it seemed that the three of them had a lot in common.

    "Mark may be a bit prejudiced," I said. "They got Homeland Security's attention by sending a whole slew of bogus faxes and emails to expose the government's Echelon program, and it worked."

    "That true, Mark?" Ben asked with a grin.

    He nodded reluctantly.

    "Tell me more about these gentlemen."

    After I had shared my experience with them, Ben was genuinely interested.

    "Making things go viral on Facebook and Twitter is their specialty," I concluded.

    "Can you get in touch with them?"

    "Yes, I think so."

    "Then call them --- now. I want to talk to them tonight because were out of here tomorrow."

    "But if Walt calls them, they'll know he's not dead!" Mark protested.

    "Do you trust these fellows?" Ben asked.

    "I do," I replied, "and I think they could really help your campaign."

    "Then do it!"

    Fortunately, I had Arnie's number programmed into my cell phone.

    I figured that, given the late hour, I would probably find him asleep, but he answered on the first ring.

    "Goldblume here."

    "Hi Arnie. This is Walt Williams."

    "Oh, hi, Walt ---- wait a minute --- you're supposed to be dead!"

    "Obviously, I'm not. It's a long story. Can you keep your mouth shut?"

    "Hey, discretion is my middle name. What's up?"

     "Actually, I'm working undercover for Ben Foster. Have you heard of him?"

    There was a long silence.

    "Wow! A political conspiracy. I love it! Sure we've heard of Foster. He's kind of the poster boy for what we've been trying to get across to people."

    "How would you like to meet him --- maybe work with him?"

    "Sure, how much does he pay?"

    "I've been authorized to give you twice as much as you earned for your speech at the Plaza Fountain."

    I knew that I was on solid ground. Two times nothing is nothing.

    Arnie and Nick didn't do what they do for the money. They both had received a sizeable settlement from Merck Pharmaceuticals because their fathers died from taking the arthritis drug Vioxx.

    "Gee, that much, huh?"

    "Ben doesn't take campaign contributions from big oil, big pharma or any other corporate giant, so his coffers aren't overflowing."

    "Then I like the guy already. When do we get to meet him?"

    "Right now. Grab Nick and get your butts over to the Marriott."

    One of the SS guys met Arnie and Nick in the lobby and escorted them to our suite.

    When they walked into the room, Ben and I were standing side-by-side.

    Arnie's jaw dropped.

    "Walt?" he asked, looking at Ben, and then he turned to me, "Walt? Oh, this is soooo cool! I love it!"

    I noticed that Mark rolled his eyes.

    After we made the introductions and explained our little ruse, Ben got down to business.

    "Walt tells me that the two of you are cyber geniuses. Do you think you could help our campaign?"

    "Well somebody certainly needs to," he began. "We've looked at your website --- boooooring! You've got good stuff on there, but you have to do something to make people want to sit down and watch a twenty minute video. It needs some pizzazz!"

    "I would agree with that," Ben conceded. "It is pretty dry. What do you have in mind?"

    Nick broke in, "You need some cartoons, some characterizations, to capture the people's interest."

    He thought for a minute, "Maybe a cartoon with a corporate fat cat stuffing dollar bills into the president's back pocket --- How about a scene with the governor peeking into someone's bedroom window? --- Oh, I've got a good one --- Can you see a guy bent over and a doctor sticking him in the butt with a big syringe filled with dollar signs?"

    Ben had a big grin on his face.

    Arnie couldn't sit still, "A slogan --- you need a slogan. Remember Eisenhower's campaign in 1952 when he beat the crap out of Adlai Stevenson? Everybody had pins saying, 'I like Ike.' You gotta have a slogan."

    He thought for a minute more, "You're running on a platform of change and people definitely want a change from the status quo, so why not capitalize on that. 'Ben Foster, our champion for change!' I can just see it everywhere, 'Champion for change!' Whaddya think?" 

    "I think I like it," Ben replied. "Paul, do you buy into this?"

    "I do," he said enthusiastically. "We have needed something to capture the younger voters and these guys just might be the ticket."

    "Then it's settled," Ben declared. "Welcome aboard!"

    "A word of caution," Mark interjected. "Ben and Walt's lives depend on keeping our little ruse a secret. Only the people in this room know about it. Can you keep your traps shut?"

    Arnie and Nick both made the 'zipper sign' across their lips.

    Mark rolled his eyes again, "Good grief!"

CHAPTER 7

    It had been past midnight when all the hoopla surrounding Ben’s Sprint Center appearance subsided, and when I hit the sack, I was out like a light.

    The next thing I remembered was someone shaking my bed.

    It was still dark outside.

    I looked at the clock and 4:00 was glowing in bright red letters.

    Apparently these people weren’t aware that my body was geared to a particular schedule --- in bed at ten, up at seven, lunch at noon and supper at six. Maybe they did know and just didn’t care.

    Mark Davenport gave my bed another shove, “Up and at ‘em, bright eyes. We’ve got a plane to catch and we have to get you ready.”

    “Where are we going?” I mumbled, trying to force my eyes open.

    “The Big Apple,” he replied. “Ben has been invited to the
Morning Show
on NBC. It’s a fantastic break for his campaign.”

    As I slung my feet over the edge of the bed, what Mark had first said finally registered.

    “What exactly did you mean when you said ‘We have to get you ready’?”

    “Your disguise, of course.”

    This was the first I had heard of any disguise.

    “Disguise? I thought that I was supposed to be another Ben Foster.”

    “You are --- just not in public. We can’t have two Ben Foster’s running around the airport, now can we?”

    That did make sense.

    “So what do you have in mind?”

    He tossed a bag on the bed. “Nothing elaborate --- just a wig and a moustache so you won’t look like Ben’s double --- something easy to get you in and out of.”

    I took the bag into the bathroom and after showering, I pasted the black moustache on my upper lip and slipped on the wig.

    I looked like Sonny Bono.

    Mark had been patiently waiting for me in the living room, and when I emerged in my new do, he smiled, “Perfect!”

    He handed me a packet. “Here is your new identity for the next four months. You’ll find everything you need in there, driver’s license, passport, even a debit card, but don’t get too excited, it has a $500 limit.”

    I examined the contents of the packet.

    “Marvin Fitzwater? Really? With all of the cool names available, that’s the best you could come up with?”

    “It’s a name that nobody will notice --- I mean, who could possibly care about Marvin Fitzwater? By the way, if anyone asks, you’re part of Ben’s publicity team. That could mean most anything.”

    He looked at his watch, “The limo leaves in fifteen minutes. Better hustle.”

    As I was packing my suitcase, I marveled at the expediency of our government.

    In less than a week, Walter Williams had ceased to exist and had been reincarnated as Marvin Fitzwater. I began to wonder if the real Walt would ever return.

    I had expected to be whisked aboard a private jet, but when the limo pulled up at the curb of the KCI airport, I noticed that we were at the Southwest Airlines gate.

    “What, no private jet?”

    Paul Ford smiled, “Sorry, Marvin. Since Ben won’t accept any money from the big corporations or Super PACs, we operate on a tight budget. I’m afraid it’s commercial --- coach!”

   
Swell
, I thought.
With my luck, I’ll be seated by a lady with a screaming kid.

    After checking in, we made our way to the boarding gate and the line stretched out for a hundred feet.

    While we stood there waiting to be frisked and x-rayed by the TSA, a guy came up to me and sang quietly in my ear, “
You babe. I’ve got you babe,
” and wandered away grinning.

    Mark saw the exchange, “What was that all about?”

    “Nothing that involves national security, I assure you. That fellow and I just shared a sixties moment.”

    He shook his head and walked away.

    I had only been to New York once and it was many years ago.

    As we drove the streets of Manhattan, if Marvin Fitzwater was supposed to be a country bumpkin, awestruck by the magnitude of this bustling city, then I was perfect for the part.

    We parked in front of the studio and were ushered into the sound stage. The program was already underway and we had barely made it in time for Ben’s interview.

    We were all seated in a room just off of the set where we could watch the program as it was being broadcast.

    Make-up people had a go at Ben and he was whisked off to the set where Ann Murray, one of the co-hosts, greeted him.

    “Good morning, Mr. Foster,” she said, extending her hand. “I hope you had a pleasant flight from Kansas City.”

    “Please,” he said, “call me Ben. We’re going to be here for awhile and Mr. Foster is just too formal, and may I call you Ann?”

    Ann was somewhat surprised. She was obviously not used to the guests taking control of the interview.

    “Certainly, Ben. I had the opportunity to watch the video of your presentation last evening and you raised some interesting points.”

    She glanced at her notes, “You said, and I quote,
‘The government has no business in the bedrooms of its citizens
.
'
The Republican and Democratic candidates have been at odds over the issue of contraception. What is your position on this topic?”

    Ben didn’t hesitate, “Ann, I don’t believe that whether or not I wear a condom or what position I use or whether I wear briefs or boxers has any bearing on the upcoming election.”

    Thanks to the miracle of modern color television, it was impossible to miss the fact that Ann’s face turned a bright crimson.

    I knew for a fact that Ben was a boxer man, and since I had to mimic his wardrobe, I had to be one too. I had always worn briefs, so Mr. Winkie and the boys were struggling to get used to the extra room. I had always fancied myself as more of a ‘tucked-away’ guy than a 'free-swinger.'

    Ben forged ahead, “Sorry if I embarrassed you, Ann. My position on contraceptives is a personal, moral choice. If you read further in my notes, you will see that I also said that it is not the government’s job to legislate morality and I also stated very clearly that my candidacy is about freedom and choices, and that with this freedom to choose comes responsibility.”

    Ann had regained her composure, “Can you give us an example?”

    “Certainly,” he replied, “our country was based on two very important principles, freedom from the tyranny of oppressive governments and the separation of church and state. I’m afraid that the two political parties have abandoned both of those concepts.

    “Let’s examine just one issue that touches on both of these points, the right-to-die-with-dignity.

    “Do you realize that there are absolutely no laws governing who can create life and bring a child into this world? Anybody can do it regardless of health, financial stability, age, criminal record or how many children to whom they may have previously given birth.

    “I suspect that this is because the scriptures tell us to ‘go forth and multiply’ and who in their right mind would suggest that the government has the right to tell its citizens how many and under what circumstances they may have children? That smacks of Nazi Germany, doesn’t it?

    “Yet on the other end of the spectrum, we have terminal cancer patients dying agonizing, painful deaths with no quality of life because those same scriptures tell us, 'Thou shalt not kill.' "

    Ann jumped in, “So you believe in euthanasia?”

    “Ann, you’re missing the point. It doesn’t matter whether I believe in it or not. The right to die is a moral issue and not a legal one.

    “Whether you believe euthanasia or any moral issue for that matter, is right or wrong, depends on whether you attend a church, a synagogue, a temple, a mosque or nothing at all.

    “For our government to say ‘you can’t do that’ is a clear-cut violation of the separation of church and state.

    “As I said before, my candidacy is about the freedom to make choices, but the choices that are made have consequences.”

    “So what you’re saying is that if the majority of American citizens feel that something should not be allowed, they don’t have the right to insist that it not be allowed?”

    “That would be true if the ‘something’ that you describe is a moral issue and not a legal one.

    Let’s look at smoking for a moment. Over the past ten years, it has been proven conclusively that the use of tobacco is detrimental to a person’s health and there are far more non-smokers than smokers today, so with this overwhelming moral majority, why doesn’t the government make the use of tobacco illegal?

    “We have certainly taken the stand that one person’s tobacco use cannot infringe upon another’s, but what do you think would happen if tobacco was banned?

    “All we have to do is take a look at what happened during prohibition. Did making alcohol illegal make people stop drinking? Absolutely not! All that it did was create a black market for a substance that people chose to use.

    “This is a perfect example of the government trying to legislate morality
.”

    “Then how do you decide what is the boundary between those things legal and those things moral? Where does gun control fit in this picture?”

    “Gun control is another perfect example. If strict gun control laws are ever enacted, millions of Americans will be transformed from law-abiding citizens into felons with the stroke of a pen. Like tobacco, alcohol, or a dozen other things that I could mention, the citizens of the United States simply DO NOT want their government making those decisions for them.”

    “So you oppose gun control?”

    “See, there, you’re doing it again. It doesn’t matter whether I like or dislike guns in the hands of our citizens. I’m not a member of the NRA, never have been and probably never will be, and I have never taken a dime of their money.

    “What I believe is that the American citizen has the right and the freedom to make that choice for himself.”

    “But it’s been proven that guns kill people.”

    “If you will pardon me for using a clichéd phrase, ‘Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.'

    “Do you remember that I said that my candidacy is about freedom of choice, but that the choices that we make have consequences?”

    She nodded.

    “Let’s take a look at all of the things that we have addressed this morning. I personally have never smoked tobacco, I use alcohol only moderately and I have never shot another human being. Those are personal moral choices that I have made.

    “If someone else chooses to use tobacco, I support their right to do so, but they must understand that the consequences of their choice may be lung cancer.

    “If someone chooses to use alcohol and they abuse that privilege by driving drunk and possibly taking another person’s life, then they must accept the consequences of losing their driver’s license or facing manslaughter charges.