The Election (38 page)

“What do you want, Mr. Reed?”

Everything was falling into place for Jake. He lay helplessly in a hospital bed with a broken leg, but he had the upper hand on the deputy director of the FBI. It was a wonderful, powerful feeling, and he savored it ever so slightly.

And then he made his demand. “Until we know that everyone involved has been apprehended, I want around-the-clock protection for me and my family, in addition to that being provided by the sheriff's department.”

“I believe we can handle that without any trouble,” Mr. Armacost replied and glanced around at the other agents to make sure they understood as well.

“That's not all.”

“What else?”

“One million dollars.”

“That's going to be more difficult.”

“That's the deal, Mr. Armacost. Take it or leave it.”

“Without more information about the contents of the video, I can't make that kind of deal with you. I need more to go on.”

“Like what?”

“Like what exactly is on the tape.”

“I'm not going to tell you what's on the tape, or where it is, until we've got a deal. But I will tell you who's on the tape.”

“That's a start.”

“Milton McAdams.”

Jake noticed that Mr. Armacost cut his eyes toward Mr. McCullough, who was standing on the other side of Jake's bed.

“I take it that you recognize the name,” Jake said.

“Let's just say that you've tempted us, Mr. Reed. But I need to know what McAdams says on the tape before I can agree to pay what you're demanding.”

“Looks like we've got a problem, Mr. Armacost. Because I'm not showing anybody that tape until I get one million dollars.”

“Done,” said a voice from behind the FBI agents. The three agents turned toward the voice, and Jake could see through the crowd that two men were standing in the door. One of them he recognized as Dalton Miller. The other was unfamiliar. The unfamiliar one stepped forward through the FBI agents and spoke to Jake.

“Mr. Reed, I'm Shep Taylor with Mac Foster's campaign. You provide that tape to Mr. Armacost, and I'll guarantee you that you'll get the money you've demanded.”

It was over, Jake realized. He had made the right decision in contacting Dalton Miller. He turned his head toward Rachel, who was standing beside his bed in stunned silence.

“Rachel, call Barrett and tell him to meet Mr. Armacost at the office. There's something in the safe behind my bookcase that he needs, and Barrett knows the combination.”

 

Orlando, Florida

Ed Burke, oblivious to the developments in Jackson, was wrapping up a campaign stop in Orlando and walking back to his limousine when the question came.

“Mr. Vice President,” the female reporter with Fox News screamed above the crowd noise, getting Ed's attention. He stopped just before entering the opened rear door of the car and turned to the horde of reporters that followed him.

“Mr. Vice President, there's a story in
The Jenkins Report
today that says you were involved with the murder of Jesse Thompson and the attempted murder of the attorney who was hired to defend the man accused of killing Thompson. Do you have a comment?”

Ed's staff had already seen the report. Daily they read every article, story, and report written about Ed in every publication in every city around the country. So he had been briefed on the story in
The Jenkins Report
, and the appropriate response had been prepared.

Ed delivered it perfectly. “It is totally absurd to think that I had anything to do with either of those events. Mr. Jenkins publishes an extreme right-wing publication, and this time he has gone too far. I trust that the people of this country will see the report for what it is, and that is a desperate right-wing attack on my candidacy at the eleventh hour of the campaign. My campaign already has lawyers working on filing a defamation lawsuit against Mr. Jenkins.” Ed looked straight into the bright lights and television cameras and, with as much conviction as he could muster, made one final, convincing statement. “And to make sure nobody is confused about what I'm saying, I categorically deny everything contained in Mr. Jenkins's report.”

Safely inside the limousine, Ben Tobias said, “I hope that's the last we hear about that ridiculous report.”

“Me too,” Ed replied, but he was worried. He knew he'd just looked into the eyes of millions of voters and lied. It wasn't the first time he had lied. But he knew that the truth was right behind him. He didn't want to think about the consequences if it caught him before the election.

Next Tuesday can't get here soon enough
, he thought.

Jackson-Madison County General Hospital, Jackson, Tennessee

Ruth joined Naomi at Jed's bedside Thursday morning for their daily vigil. Naomi knew that she and Ruth were the only ones in the world who still had some hope for Jed, but even their hope had begun to dwindle. Naomi said her daily prayer and thanked God for Jake's rescue and salvation. Now if he would only perform a miracle for Jed, she prayed.

“Good morning,” Jed's doctor said to both ladies as he entered Jed's room on his morning rounds. “How's our patient today?”

“'Bout the same, I guess,” Ruth responded. “Things don't look good, do they?”

“No they don't, Ms. McClellan,” the doctor said honestly. “We probably need to start thinking about moving him to a long-term-care facility. We've done about all we can do for him here, and we need to discharge him from the hospital. You're not going to be able to take care of him without some help.”

“I've been afraid of that,” Naomi replied. “I wish we could take him home.”

The doctor checked Jed's pulse and examined his eyes as he continued talking to Ruth and Naomi. “I don't think that's a good idea. He's going to need around-the-clock attention, and you're not equipped to provide that for him. The best thing for Jed is a long-term-care facility. My office can provide you with a list so you can begin evaluating them.”

Naomi continued to watch the doctor as he moved around the side of the bed to check the monitor that measured Jed's brain activity—or more accurately, the lack of it. She knew he did it more out of habit than in anticipation of anything new being reported.

“What's this?” he said as he ran his index finger along the printout that had accumulated overnight. Naomi could hear in his tone an element of disbelief.

“What is it, Doc?” Naomi asked.

“This report is showing brain activity.”

 

Sheraton hotel, Orlando, Florida

“What's Armacost up to?” Ed Burke asked Ben Tobias as the two of them and Millie gathered around the television in Ed's hotel suite to watch the press conference scheduled to begin in ten minutes. Ed didn't usually watch press conferences, but relied on his staff to brief him on what was said. He was concerned about this one, though. More concerned than he let on to Ben and Millie.

“He's probably going to talk about who's in charge at the Bureau since Sanders committed suicide,” Ben reasoned.

“He can't do that,” Ed retorted. “That's up to President Harrison and the attorney general. Armacost doesn't have anything to say about it.”

“If that's not it, I don't know what it could be,” Ben replied, looking perplexed. “We don't have anybody close enough to Armacost to find out. We'll just have to watch and see.”

Ed didn't like the thought of not knowing about something before it happened, and he didn't have a particularly good feeling about what was taking place. Nervously he perched on the edge of the sofa in his hotel suite and stared at the television as the press briefing began.

 

FBI headquarters, Washington, DC

Shep knew that late the previous night Deputy Director Charlie Armacost had announced to the media that he'd be conducting a press conference at ten o'clock Thursday morning from the briefing room at the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building. It had been Shep's idea to put out the advance notice of the press conference.

Saul Sanders's body had been discovered Wednesday evening by two FBI agents who went to check on him when he didn't arrive for work at his FBI office on Wednesday. Shep knew that the media anticipated Charlie would talk about Sanders's death. But that wasn't the kind of information the media would get. It would certainly be a surprise…for everyone.

FBI technicians had worked through the night, splicing together several copies of the tape of Milton McAdams to distribute to the media at the press conference. The tape was too long to provide full copies and contained information that didn't need to be disseminated. Shep had viewed the tape with Charlie several times throughout the night, and together they had decided which portions to incorporate into the edited version. It contained just enough information to accomplish the goal of destroying Ed Burke, and was brief enough that it could be shown in its entirety numerous times throughout the day Thursday on all the news networks. A typed transcript of the edited version of the McAdams tape was also prepared for the print media so they could immediately get it onto their Web sites and run it in Friday morning's print edition.

Shep knew that in the life of a political campaign, the Thursday before a Tuesday election was a crucial day. Every campaign in every election, from local elections all the way to presidential elections, feared the Thursday before a Tuesday election. Shep knew it seemed rather silly to fear a particular day, but the reason was simple: if there was any election-altering news, it would break on Thursday. After weeks and months and years of campaigning, it was strange to think that an election could be altered in a span of time as short as five days. To the general population it may not seem like a sufficient amount of time to accomplish anything. But those who worked on a campaign, like Shep, knew it was the perfect day for news to break—good or bad. It was a long enough period of time for the news to be fully disseminated to every part of the country, but too short a period of time for the other side to respond.

Yes, Shep thought, Thursday was the perfect day for the beginning of Edward Burke's demise.

The briefing room at the Hoover Building was filled to capacity, and white light heated the stage when Charlie Armacost stepped to the podium. When Charlie began to speak into the bank of microphones, Shep smiled. Although it was Charlie's first press conference, he sounded like he'd given thousands of them.

What a great FBI director he'll make,
Shep thought.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Charlie Armacost, and I am the deputy director of the FBI. Yesterday we discovered the body of Director Saul Sanders in his Arlington, Virginia, home. There did not appear to be any forced entry, and the investigation into his death continues. I believe of graver concern to the American public was a different discovery my office made yesterday, and it is that discovery that I want to talk to you about today.”

On cue, several members of Charlie's staff emerged from different doors around the briefing room and began to distribute the edited videotape and transcript.

“My staff is distributing copies of a videotape that I'm going to play for you in a moment. First, I want to tell you how we obtained this tape, and what you can expect when you view it.”

Shep listened as Charlie gave a brief recount of the developments over the last three months. When Charlie was finished, the entire room was surprisingly silent. Everyone sat in quiet anticipation of the forthcoming videotape.

“And now I want to show you what we have named
The McAdams Tape
,” Charlie announced.

The lights dimmed as Charlie pressed the Play button on the remote control, and Milton McAdams's face appeared on the television monitor positioned beside the podium. Reporters from every major broadcast and print media watched the edited McAdams tape that Shep and Charlie had prepared overnight. Shep knew that the Federalists's conspiracy had now been exposed to the world, and with it, Ed Burke. Charlie allowed the tape to play for fifteen minutes before pressing the Stop button on the remote control. After the screen went black and the lights brightened, Charlie continued his prepared remarks.

“As you can see, Mr. McAdams described activities by Mr. Winston, Mr. Montgomery, andz Vice President Burke that threaten the highest levels of national security. We don't know at this point the accuracy of all Mr. McAdams's statements, but my office has opened an investigation into this matter to determine the full extent of the involvement of the people mentioned in the tape, including Vice President Burke. We have confirmed that part of the tape is in fact accurate, and that is why we believed it appropriate to allow you to view it. We are now trying to determine the whereabouts of Pierce Montgomery and Randolph Winston. We will provide more information as the investigation progresses.”

Charlie left the stage to choruses of “Mr. Armacost, Mr. Armacost,” as reporters tried to ask him questions.

But Charlie ignored them. Nothing further needed to be said, Shep knew. The damage to Edward Burke's presidential aspirations was done.

 

Bern, Switzerland

It was 5:00 p.m. in Bern, Switzerland, and 11:00 a.m. in Washington, DC, when Pierce Montgomery's Learjet touched down at a private airstrip north of the city. He knew he could claim political asylum in Switzerland and escape extradition to the United States.

Exiting the aircraft, he strolled toward his waiting Rolls Royce limousine, which would take him to a chalet he owned in the Swiss Alps. Just before entering the rear of the car, Pierce spotted a similar limousine. As it drove slowly past Pierce, the rear window of the car lowered and a face was revealed.

The passenger smiled at him as the car passed.

It was a face that Pierce had hoped he'd never have to see again.