The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology (23 page)

“Right here, Gordy.” He gave Grant a six-page
memorandum.

“You'll find that memo gives you a lot more leeway in dealing
with those bastards. And it's Top Secret/USAP, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You'll see in there that we're getting rid of all that softy
politically correct bullshit jargon that the last administration
foisted on everybody. These guys are radical Islamists and
terrorists, plain and simple, and we're gonna call 'em as we see 'em.
No more pussyfootin' around, no more walking on eggshells for any of
us. We're at war, period, and they are the fuckin' enemy, period.
And my priority is intelligence over prosecution; kill or capture.
This nation's security is my top priority, period. And Lannie is okay
with that, and will make sure the DOJ and FBI are on board. Right,
Lannie?”

Lannie responded, “Already started. I'm getting some backlash,
of course. But Mere is on board.”

“Keep it going, and keep me posted on that, and feel free to
point the finger at me. It is my policy, and I've got pretty thick
skin.”

“Will do. Oh, Mere is Olivia Meredith Gwynn, FBI Director.”

“Grant, you and Lou can go over that later, and if you have any
backlash, same thing; feel free to make me the bad guy, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now, your people are paying special attention to anything at
all around the holidays coming up and the anniversary of bin Laden's
death next May, right?”

“Absolutely, Gordy; HUMINT, SIGINT and all the rest, everything
lined up on that. We've already heard some things and we've closed
down seventeen cells around the world that were planning attacks,
some here, some in Europe and a few in Indonesia and the Philippines,
even one in Australia. Got 97 AQ's in custody, and we're
interrogating them in thirteen locations around the world, some with
the host government's permission, some way under the radar.”

“Good. Again, no incidents, okay? Keep all of your hotheads
in line. But squeeze 'em hard and get the intel.”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, good. And I've pardoned all your guys and the soldiers
that the previous AG prosecuted, and they've all been released.
Politics, yecchh. I've also ordered them to be reimbursed for their
legal fees and added some big bonuses for damages to their lives and
their reputations.”

“We and they all appreciate that, sir.”

“No, no, Grant, no more 'sir,' okay? It's Gordy. And that
goes for you, as well, Lou.”

“Yes, si- – I mean Gordy.”

“Good. Okay, anything else – oh, I know about the fatwa
that's been issued on me by that nutjob in Iran. You guys are on top
of that, right?”

“Of course, Gordy. But you know that a bounty like that brings
all sorts of pros, amateurs and nutcases out of the woodwork. But
I'm sure you've got enhanced protection around you, even beyond the
Service.”

“We're on top of that, Grant. Got some new technologies that
even you don't know about yet.”

“Really?”

“Really. Some are still only in prototype at DEI, but some are
fully operational. And when you do see them, they'll blow your
mind.”

“Looking forward to that, Gordy.”

“Soon, Grant, soon.”

“Okay; I'll be patient.”

“Good, good. Okay, any questions, thoughts, concerns?”

“I've got one.”

“Go ahead, Lou.”

“Well, sir --”

“Gordy.”

“-- Gordy … sorry ... you know the ACLU is coming after
us, and they'll keep up the pressure.”

“Don't you worry about them, Lou. Lannie and I have already
intervened and closed down all of their lawsuits with you, and we've
put them on notice that the rules have changed and they're almost out
of business as far as any branch of the federal government is
concerned. Another week and they'll all have gotten the message, and
poof, no more ACLU problems. We are at war, period.

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Nothing from me, Gordy.”

“That was it from me.”

“Lannie?”

“Nope, all clear.”

“Okay. Go over that memo and if you have any questions, just
get in touch with Emily, Alex, Taylor, Jodi or Maria, and I'll get
back to you or get you in here ASAP. Go for it. And I've got your
six, okay?”

“Okay, Gordy; appreciate it.”

Donne stood and shook hands all around.

“Oh, if you want a DVD of this meeting, check with Alex on the
way out. Thanks, everybody. Now I've got to get back to prepping
the Medicare speech for tonight.”

Everybody left, and Donne went back to his desk, buzzed his chief of
staff and asked her to gather up his social media team and bring them
into the Oval Office in twenty minutes.

“Will do, Gordy. Twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Emily.”

Donne then picked up the printout of his speech and continued editing
and rehearsing it, nibbling from time to time on a turkey-and- peanut
butter sandwich, but ignoring a plastic container of sprouts, tofu
and parsley which had suspiciously appeared with the sandwich.

Twenty minutes later, the intercom on his desk buzzed and Emily said,
“The team is here, Mr. Donne.”

“Thanks, Emily. Bring 'em on in.”

Several twenty-something men and women followed Emily in and milled
about the room until Donne waved them to sit and get comfortable. He
also quietly handed Emily the plastic container as she gave him a
stack of papers. She smiled innocently and took the container with
her as she left. (She snacked on the contents at her desk for the
next half hour.)

Donne came around from behind his desk and smiled.

“Good morning, gang. Everybody comfy? Good, good.

“Okay. I've only met some of you, so could the team leaders
introduce their teams, please? Lexie, go ahead.”

“Yes, Mr. Donne. We're the Monitors, and we have a network of
over a hundred freelancers screening all the social media sites and
blogs, funneling what they find to the ten of us: Susie, Ellie,
Sydne, Selma, Katie, Tracey, Tammy, Riley, Ragan and me.”

“Thanks, Lexie, and welcome to you all. Maddie?”

“We're the Responders, Mr. Donne. My team and our network
respond to whatever Lexie's team sends us, positive or negative, with
the talking points Emily has given us. We are Bettina, Birgitte,
Bria, Becca, Belinda, Zoey, Dawn, Rhiannon and me.”

“Good, Maddie, and welcome to you and your team. Kennedy?”

“We're the Initiators, Mr. Donne. We get daily updates from
Emily and her staff and start feeding them out to the public through
our volunteer network of bloggers and other social media people, plus
several PR firms and media contacts. My team is Brittnie, Cassie,
Kiersten, Donna, Heather, Lacie, Brian and me.”

“Thank you, Kennedy, and welcome to all of you, too.

“I've been getting very good reports from Emily on how you're
all doing, and I applaud your dedication and inventiveness.

“Now, tonight I'll be giving a speech on Medicare, Medicaid and
health insurance, and it's definitely going to be controversial, so
you'll all need to be prepared for an explosion of activity,
especially from the organized health insurance companies, doctors,
the pharma companies and the other special interests that are gonna
be affected.

“Emily has prepared our talking points on this whole change,”
he said as he handed the stack of papers to the team leaders, “and
as you study those, you'll see that this idea is completely and
totally to put choice and control back into the hands of the people.

“So, Maddie, Lexie and Kennedy, you'll need to bring your teams
and your networks up to speed on all this, so they're ready to go
24/7 as soon as I give that speech. I wouldn't expect the spike to
last more than a week or so, but it'll be pretty intense, I'm sure.

“If you need more people for your teams, let Emily know and
she'll be sure you get 'em.

“And one important thing I need you all to remember. We don't
need to get defensive, no matter what lies and BS they shoot out.
We're gonna stay just soft and neutral, so no flaming, no personal
attacks, just the facts. And gentle, self-assured. Okay?”

Everybody nodded or said, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. If you have any questions at all this afternoon or at
any time as we go through this, I'll be available 24/7, and you can
reach me through Emily or any of her staff.

“Okay. Any questions now?”

The teams all glanced at each other, but nobody said anything, until
Lexie spoke up. “I guess not, Mr. Donne; I think we're good.”

“Okay, that's it for now, then. I'm counting on each and every
one of you to do the absolute best you can.

“So let's all get a good rest and be ready for the onslaught
about 8:45 tonight. And thanks again, gang.”

At that point, spontaneous and loud applause broke out as all of the
teams got up and headed out, all smiles, except Brian, the only guy
in the group, who was lagging behind and intensely studying the
papers he was carrying, so intensely that he bumped into the closing
door as he reached it. He backed up, re-opened the door and started
to head out, blushing deeply, but still studying the papers.

“Hey, Brian, do you play chess? Donne asked.

Brian looked up nervously. “Yes, sir, Mr. Donne.”

“Thought so. We'll talk later. For now, have at it. And
thanks.”

When the door closed behind Brian, Donne returned to his desk and got
back to work on his speech and on his sandwich, mumbling, “Tofu
equals protein minus taste.”

-42-

Four Months Earlier

Saturday, August 13, 2011

10:10 a.m.

Bonita Beach, Florida

With his stitches removed ($146) and the cuts nearly healed, Jake was
floating on a couple of noodles in the Gulf on this already hot day,
bicycling his legs under the surface, a dead cigarette butt tucked
under a bow of his sunglasses at his temple and a book in his hands.
His fashion statement was completed by a slightly tattered bucket
beach hat, which had originally been white, but now verged on ecru.

He'd arrived about 7:45, set up his lounge, cooler and beach bag,
watched the X-Fit with Kevin exercise group until he got vicariously
exhausted, exchanged “Good Mornings” with some of the
early walkers and had made several notes in his notebook. But now,
as he floated in the warm, clear Gulf water, he was reading a thick
nonfiction paperback book, a process someone had called
“aqua-literating.”

“Good book?” a female voice asked from behind him.

“Can't put it down,” Jake replied as he swiveled to see
who was there. “Oh, hey, Ann Louise. How's the Bitch of the
Beach doing?”

“Oh, so-so,” she said. “You?”

“Waking up. Should be done by maybe Tuesday.”

“So whatcha reading now?”

Jake showed her the cover and said, “It's a pretty scathing
history of the Federal Reserve and the worldwide banking cabal, from
colonial times up to now. Already raised my blood pressure up to
near normal three times in the last half hour or so.”

“That's nice. Listen, I got something for your book.”

“Okay.”

“Well --”

“Now, this will be of national significance, right, not like
your last one, that people from New Jersey sit too close to other
people's chairs and blankets?”

“Well, they do do that all over the country, not just here,
don't they?”

“Okay, but what's Donne gonna do about it, make a law that they
have to stay at least, what, two feet away? Three? Five? C'mon.”

“Well, I think it's a legitimate complaint. Okay, okay. Now,
you know how the Collier lot is set up so that it's a long walk from
the east end to the boardwalk, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, a lot of people come early just to walk the beach, get
some exercise, with nothing to carry, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And a lot of families come for the day and they have tons of
stuff to carry, like chairs and toys for the kids, umbrellas and
coolers?”

“Yeah.”

“So doesn't it piss you off that the exercisers park up front,
close to the boardwalk, and take up all the spaces in the circle, so
the families have to walk so much further with all their stuff?”

“Never thought about it, but it does seem ironic.” He
chuckled. “I guess if I had a family and a lot of stuff, yeah,
it'd be annoying.”

“They come for the exercise, but can't walk the little bit
further to the end of the lot, get just a little more exercise.”

“I guess that's sort of inconsiderate, but, again, national?”

“Probably happens everywhere.”

“Could be, but a vital national interest?”

“Well, I think so.”

“Tell you what, Ann Louise; I'll think about it, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” she said, downcast. “But think hard.”

“I will, I will; promise.”

“Okay. Well, see ya later. Have a nice day.”

Jake gave her a Benny Hill salute and said, “Yes, ma'am, I
will.”

“Oh, can you do anything to get Sonya to shut up? She runs on
and on about nothing, can't get away from her. And she's so angry,
on and on, bitching about (N-word deleted)s and Jews. Jesus.”

“I've got some super glue in my bag, if you want to sneak it
into her lipstick. But she and Herb only come on weekends, now that
he's working again.”

“Yeah, but – oh, shit, they're here and I think she just
saw me.”

“Well, don't hang around me anymore. Go, go.”

Just then a harsh nasal female voice called out from shore, “Hey,
Ann Louise!”

“Oh, shit.”

“Go, go. I'll talk to you later.”

“I'm going.”

“Hey, Ann Louise! Wait up!”

But Ann Louise wasn't fast enough, and Sonya caught up with her about
twenty feet from Jake and stayed with her as she headed back north as
quickly as a woman of her girth could in chest-deep water.

Jake breathed a sigh of relief and started for the shore, filling a
bag with water to wash his feet when he got to his lounge. Once there
and with that done and the cigarette butt in an empty pack, he pulled
a plastic container of ice cream from his cooler, ate a spoonful and
let it slide down his throat. He followed that with a drink of water
and some lip balm, then lay down and went back to his book, with a
goal of staying on shore in the hot sun for at least twenty minutes.
He also made a few notes in his notebook.