Payback, page 5
Jim Kent stepped forward. “Good morning, Madam Vice President.”
She looked up and locked her nearly black eyes with him, moving her short, stocky body inches from his, then folded her arms. “Get out of my way. Right. Now.”
But the agents didn’t move. “We’ve been instructed to bring you to your temporary office.”
“I said... get out of my way.”
“President’s orders, Madam. Your office is currently being painted so everything you need has been brought to another location for your convenience.”
She brushed her long black hair behind her ears. “What the hell is this? I need to see the President right now.”
“I’m sorry, but the President instructed me to tell you he is unavailable until further notice. Please let us escort you to your temporary office.”
“If I can’t get to my regular office I’m going to the briefing room and talk to the media.”
“Also closed to you, Madam Vice President.”
“What, is that being painted too?”
“The briefing room is currently off limits. To you. Besides, the reporters are already gone from the briefing room.” He leaned forward, noting a ton of cameras outside pointing in their direction and lowered his voice. “Please don’t make a scene.”
“And don’t you tell me what I can and cannot do! If I were you I’d start typing my resume. You’ll be cleaning out your office by the end of the day. And not because it’s being painted.” She whipped out her cell phone as the agents surrounded her, led her inside and down a hallway. She noted several staffers either turned away or shook their heads at her in disgust as she passed. She punched the speed dial button for the Attorney General and waited for him to pick up.
The call went straight to voice mail.
Agent Kent stopped at a door and opened it. “We’ve got you set up here for the time being.” He gestured toward the room.
Her eyes filled with fire as she stepped inside.
There was nothing in the small, windowless room except a desk and a chair.
She whipped her head toward Kent. “Are you kidding me? I’m the VICE PRESIDENT OF THE FRIGGIN’ UNITED STATES and you’re putting me in a goddamn closet? This is everything I need?”
“President’s orders, Madam. Two agents will be outside the door. But I’ve been instructed by the President himself that you are not to leave this room.”
“Where’s my computer?”
“It is considered evidence and has been confiscated. Along with everything else in your office.”
“The hell with this. I’m going home.”
The agents blocked her path.
“Get out of my way.”
“Someone from the Justice Department will be here shortly,” said Kent, who then closed the door and locked her inside. “You are to wait here until then.”
DEXTER MORSE NODDED as he listened to the party chairman on the burner phone while his eyes locked on the next front-page story sent to him. “I must say, I never expected an actual coup by the Vice President. But obviously you did or you wouldn’t have the article written before it happened.”
“No comment.”
“We’ve lulled the readers into thinking nothing will change.”
“I love what you’ve done. Everything is so very subtle. Love the unflattering photos of every single Democrat.”
“Well, subtle ends today. Wait till they see this on the front page. It will be on the website shortly.”
“And the beauty of that is the liberal networks follow your newspaper like lemmings.”
Morse laughed a bit. “So I’ve noticed in the few days I’ve been here. Yeah, over the cliff they go. They don’t even realize what we’re doing they’re so used to cutting-and-pasting. By the way, is the story about the Vice President true?”
“Mister Morse, I’ll just say that everything you print from now on you should consider to be true. Talk soon.”
“Understood. Can’t wait to see what’s next.”
“Well, I can already tell you if you don’t want to wait an hour.”
“Sure.”
“It will be a photo of the Vice President being led out of the White House in handcuffs.”
“You gotta be friggin’ kidding me!”
“Picture will be worth several billion words in this case. Have a great day!”
Morse ended the call and beckoned to his new executive editor.
She got up from her desk and walked to his office. “Yes, Mister Morse?”
“I just sent you our latest front-page story. Get it up on the website as soon as that devious headline writer we just hired can come up with something devastating.”
“On it. You wanna approve the headline before I run it?”
“I trust you. Surprise me.”
VICE PRESIDENT DESOTO was ready to throw her cell phone against the wall.
No one was taking her calls.
Everything going to voice mail.
Even the burner phones of her operatives were “no longer in service.”
The White House had gotten to everyone. So much for due process.
She got up, walked to the door and twisted the knob.
Still locked.
She pounded on the door. “Open this door now or I’ll have your job!”
No response.
She paced around the room, wearing a trench in the royal blue rug.
Her pulse spiked when she heard the door knob turn.
She quickly moved to the door just as it opened.
The Attorney General.
“Blair, thank God. I’ve been going crazy—”
“Bella—”
“Do you know the absolute bullshit they’re trying to hang on me? They’ve actually had me locked up in here—”
“Bella—”
“I’m going to get even with whoever was behind this. I’m gonna rip out their throat and shit down their neck.”
The short, white-haired Attorney General put up his hands. “You need to calm down and listen to what I have to say.”
She exhaled audibly. “I’m listening, but I’m not calm.”
“Thank you.” He looked over his shoulder and waved in two uniformed police officers. “She’s all yours.”
The first officer moved in front of her. “Bella DeSoto, please turn around and put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest for treason—”
Her eyes filled with fire. “Are you fucking kidding me, Blair? What the hell are you doing?”
The seventy-year-old Attorney General said nothing and stepped aside as the officer continued to read the VP her rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”
She glared at the officer. “Touch me and I will destroy you and your family.”
The cop looked at the other officer and nodded. “Go ahead. Do it.” The second cop moved behind the VP, pulled her hands behind her back and handcuffed her. The first officer finished the Miranda script, then extended his hand toward the door. “Come with us and do not resist.”
“I’ll fucking resist all I want!”
“Shut up, Bella!” said the Attorney General. “You’re a traitor and you’re going to jail.”
“You can’t silence me!” Each officer took one of her arms. “Get your hands off me!” She tried in vain to twist away as they led her out of the room, down a hallway and then quickly hustled out a door into a sea of waiting media. Who wasted no time shouting questions as she dropped f-bombs at the police and the Attorney General.
“Did you change the President’s speech?”
Before she could answer one of the officers grabbed her head and pushed it down as he shoved her into a waiting car and slammed the door.
A HALF HOUR LATER DEXTER Morse looked up to see his executive editor smiling. “I assume you have something good?”
“It’s on the website and the presses are rolling with a special edition. And my God, that photo of her in handcuffs. The look on Bella’s face is priceless.”
He quickly logged on to the paper’s website and nodded. “Oh yeah. Perfect.” Morse laughed at the clever headline, then his eyes lit up. He remembered something his personal intern had found which would make the story even better. Something he didn’t think much of when he first saw it since it was so obvious, but so important now. He pulled out the large file of incriminating evidence. “Time to open Pandora’s Box.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
COLLARED AND CUFFED: VP HEADS FOR SLAMMER AFTER BEING CHARGED WITH TREASON
No, she wasn’t being outfitted with a Chippendale’s costume for Halloween. But this will certainly be the biggest collar two DC police officers will ever have.
Vice President Bella DeSoto was hauled away from the White House kicking and screaming in handcuffs after it was discovered she had edited the speech that embarrassed the President last night. The now infamous address to the nation during which President Damien told working women to stay home and bake cookies (along with other matrimonial duties) left the Commander-in-Chief furious while demanding his Vice President’s resignation. Or impeachment.
Attorney General Blair Washington addressed the media after DeSoto was driven away in a police car. “The Vice President is being charged with treason. The Secret Service has already shown you rock-solid proof that she added some embarrassing passages to the President’s speech last night in an attempt to discredit him and make him look foolish. While President Damien has given her till the end of the day to resign, whether she does so or not will have no effect on this case. She will be booked and held in custody until brought before a federal judge.”
Meanwhile, Press Secretary Cassie Yates remains under siege after trying to spin the reason the President did not catch the changes in the speech, which only added fuel to the fire that his mental faculties are not as sharp as they used to be. “Sometimes when you have a long speech, you’re reading and not talking... and you can often not realize what’s on the prompter.” That excuse was immediately dismissed by spunky Florida Congresswoman Johanna Bishop, who said Damien has lost more than a step. “Look, we all get older and slow down; there’s no shame in that. But it’s pretty clear that the President is running the country under diminished mental capacity when he doesn’t catch words that are so incredibly offensive to all women. That’s like not noticing someone has hit you in the face with a pie. America needs a Commander-in-Chief who’s at the top of his or her game... and not living in the 1950s.” When asked if ‘her game’ meant she was running for the Oval Office, Bishop smiled and said, “Right now I think I’ll be busy with impeachment hearings for Bella DeSoto. ‘Cause you know damn well she isn’t going to resign. They’ll have to drag her out of Washington. Though I do hear some federal prisons are quite comfortable. Maybe she can take up tennis.”
Meanwhile, Democratic National Committee members cannot be happy that Damien has already voiced his preference for DeSoto’s replacement. Senator Ed Hester, long known as “Hester the Molester” for his handsy approach with women along with several instances of marital infidelity, is surely not the choice of the DNC. It will be interesting to see how that plays out as Damien is known for being incredibly stubborn. Johanna Bishop had the best line of the day in regard to the situation, saying, “Hester brings new meaning to stop-and-frisk. Last time I was in the same room with him I had to hire a CSI tech to dust me for prints.” Names for possible replacements are already flying around Capitol Hill, with several members of Congress not wasting any time jockeying for position. “I’m surprised some people can get a cell phone signal, they’re so far up the President’s ass,” said Bishop.
As for the Vice President, she was quickly booked and is now cooling her heels in a jail cell, awaiting a hearing in front of a federal judge that will surely be expedited. If convicted, she could spend the rest of her life in prison or even face the death penalty. The Attorney General did not indicate if a plea deal would be on the table should DeSoto resign.
FROM THE PUBLISHER, DEXTER MORSE
One of the things I heard from many people as I was buying this newspaper was that journalism credibility was dead. That no one trusted the media anymore, that those in power were in the pockets of politicians. I’ll be honest, I tended to agree. But what I’ve already seen in my short time here went far beyond anything I imagined. I’m committed to bringing unbiased coverage back to this publication. Those unethical connections between journalists and politicians need to end.
That said, in light of what happened last night, my staff has uncovered a bombshell communication between the Vice President and the former Managing Editor of this newspaper, Murray Handlestern. The following email chain took place during the Democratic National Convention before President Damien had announced Bella DeSoto would be his running mate.
DeSoto: I appreciate all you’ve done to promote me as VP. That fake poll showing me to be the best addition to the ticket was incredible.
Handlestern: Hey, it was your idea. I think you have a good chance. You had a chance to talk with Damien?
DeSoto: Not that it made any difference. The old fart can’t even remember my name. The (expletive) called me Betsy twice. The guy is (expletive) senile.
Handlestern: Well, he’ll never make it through the first term. Then the Oval Office is all yours.
DeSoto: I’ve got some ideas to speed things up and get the old fool out of the way.
Handlestern: I’ll do my best to torpedo him once he’s in office. But he’s gotta pick you first. That shouldn’t be a problem since I’ve got dirt on the DNC chair to improve your chances.
As you can see, even before DeSoto was added to the ticket she was already making plans to get Damien out of the way. While other emails between the two don’t outline anything specific, this really shows her true feelings about the President along with her connection to the media, how this newspaper printed a bogus poll to help her chances and how she planned to take down a sitting President.
As for the editor who I fired on my first day here, I can only apologize for the outrageously biased coverage this newspaper provided during his employment.
It won’t happen again.
DAVID CHEN SAW THE young guard enter the exercise area and knew his hour was up. Too bad, it was a beautiful day. He leaned back to let the sun bathe his face for a moment, then headed toward the guard.
But the guard closed the door.
David furrowed his brow. “What’s going on?”
“You’re being moved. Follow me.”
His blood pressure spiked. “You’re putting me in the general population?”
“Hell no, Chen. We wouldn’t do that to you. Just the opposite. Someone up there likes you.”
He followed the guard to another wing of the building, which he recognized as the old section of the prison. “I thought this part of the place was closed.”
“Not exactly.” The guard opened the door and led him inside.
The air was a bit musty and the place was quiet, except for the sound of a television at the end of the hall. “So... I’m here now?”
The guard nodded and led him down a long hallway past empty cells. “The warden puts people here who really aren’t a threat and don’t need to be with the rest of the scum that inhabits this place. We call this the example wing.”
“Example?”
“Yeah. For people who the government wants to make an example of who really should be in Club Fed. I know your story, kid. You don’t deserve to be in a place like this and I understand why you did what you did. Anyway, this is your new home. And the welcome wagon already arrived.” He gestured toward one of the cells that was open.
David’s jaw dropped as he walked into his new cell. A few cardboard boxes were stacked against one wall. A small television sat on top of a mini-fridge. A stack of science fiction books, his favorite, were on top of his bunk, along with a few decks of cards. A box with a new pair of sneakers. And a top-of-the-line laptop that was hardwired. “Where’d all this come from?”
The guard shrugged. “Hey, I just work here. But I will say the delivery girl was pretty hot.”
David moved toward the boxes and started to open them. His eyes widened as it was apparent his benefactor had been grocery shopping. Candy bars, snacks, canned goods. He opened the fridge and saw it stocked with bottles of soda, fruit juice and sparkling water. He pulled one out, opened it, and savored a long drink or orange juice. He shook his head in amazement as he sat on the bunk, instantly realizing it wasn’t a typical prison four-inch mattress but an actual bed. He looked up at the guard. “So... you want a soda?”
“Nah, I’m good, but thanks. Only other person on this wing is down the hall. Follow the noise. Nice guy. Another one who pissed off someone in the federal government.” The guard turned and left.
“Hey!”
The guard stopped and turned. “What?”
“Aren’t you going to lock my cell?”
“Why? You’re not going anywhere. Enjoy your newfound freedom, kid. Run up and down the hall all you want. Go introduce yourself to your neighbor. I’m sure he’d love some company.”
“Thanks.” David quickly drank the rest of the juice, then tore open a candy bar and wolfed it down. He decided he wanted to see what was going on in the world before he met his new cell mate so he turned on the television.
The screen instantly cleared with a shot of the White House.
The graphic across the bottom read VP hacks President’s teleprompter.
“Ho-lee shit.”
He plopped down on the bed, riveted to the screen.
A half hour and two bags of potato chips later, he was ready to do anything to help that mysterious woman.
That’s when he noticed the envelope taped to the side of the fridge.
He quickly opened it, found a single page of instructions.
