Five Suns Saga I

by Jim Heskett

  Contents

  Copyright

  Format

  Part I - TREASON

  Flash Drive Necklace

  Over Cornbread

  Kaboom stuff

  Blender in a Backpack

  Party at the End

  No Regrets

  PART II - SEDITION

  Take St. Jude

  The Coyote

  Chasing Rabbits

  Not Monsters

  Radio Free Vancouver

  The Last Blog Post

  The Spider Bite

  Suit, Dress, Duster

  Stem of the Rose

  Ball Peen Gavel

  Doubled Mattresses

  Shower Blowjob

  Note to Readers

  Bibliography

  About The Author

  Dedication

  Afterword

  Five Suns Saga: Part One

  By

  Jim Heskett

  Copyright © 2015 by Jim Heskett. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Royal Arch Books

  www.RoyalArchBooks.com

  Please consider leaving a review once you have finished this book. Want a free book? Click here to find out how to get one.

  THE FIVE SUNS SAGA I

  Five Suns of Treason (six short stories)

  Five Suns of Sedition (twelve short stories)

  PART I

  TREASON

  Flash Drive Necklace

  (BEFORE THE FALL)

  Beth, that bitch.

  The thought careened around Kellen Richter’s head like a goldfish in a too-small bowl. Around and around, swirling and repeating and clouding out anything else useful or productive.

  Kellen hated to think that way about any woman, but if someone deserved it, Beth Fortner did. She had stolen his idea to refocus the senator’s jobs speech from shipping to technology. Kellen was the one who had discovered that the union boss of the Longshoreman’s Association was close to an indictment. Kellen was the one who had, therefore, narrowly saved the senator from associating with a soon-to-be suspected criminal.

  And yet again, as she had done through two promotions, Beth found a path to lie, cheat, and steal her way into looking like the hero, while Kellen stood on the sidelines, holding his flaccid junk in his hands.

  But all that would end today.

  Kellen, Beth, and the entirety of Edward LaVey’s reelection team were staying at LaVey’s mansion outside Buffalo. The senior staffers populated the spacious library room, each of them clicking away at laptop keyboards and tapping at tablet screens, hunched over tables surrounded by high walls stocked with yellowing scholarly texts.

  On a chain around her neck, Beth was wearing the very same flash drive she had stolen from Kellen, the one that contained the only backup copy of the research he’d done on the head of the longshoreman’s union. Beth—or someone she’d hired—had hacked his email and online drive to erase his main copy, of course, and stolen the flash drive out of his bag two weeks ago.

  Kellen glowered from across the room, but she didn’t lift her head to meet his gaze. Why was she wearing it? To taunt him? To make the point that no matter what he did, she was always going to be a step ahead?

  He cleared his throat, but she still paid no attention. Her face reflected her laptop’s glow, her skin fluorescent in the dim light of the room.

  One of the newer staffers plucked a tennis ball from his jacket pocket and bounced it against the books, catching it on the rebound. “When the hell is the food coming?”

  “Please tell me you are not throwing a tennis ball against a two hundred-year-old set of Encyclopedia Britannicas,” Beth said, which made the kid shrink back into himself.

  “I’m just hungry,” he said, chin tucked and eyes low.

  Kellen watched, intrigued. The other staffers didn’t used to fear Beth, but she had risen through their ranks so quickly that the men’s room urban legend was that either she had made a deal with the devil, or she was sleeping with LaVey. Either one seemed plausible.

  Kellen watched the flash drive turn at the end of the chain as she typed, the little hunk of plastic and metal hovering just above the curve of her breasts. A college-aged Kellen probably would have wanted to see those breasts freed, but now the notion made him think of cow udders.

  Beth’s fatal mistake had been bringing the drive here. Whatever her purpose, she’d created an avenue for Kellen to prove to LaVey that he had discovered the career-saving indictment scoop, not her. If he could get to the files, he could use the timestamp in the metadata to prove his ownership.

  Unless she’d erased the data from the drive. Would she do that? No, she wouldn’t. She would keep it, a sign of her victory. That smug bitch.

  But he needed to think of a way to get the flash drive away from her. The senator was meeting some high-dollar donors later for drinks in his backyard, and all staffers were to wear black tie. Beth would change into something strapless, and no way could she pull off flash-drive-as-accessory then. All Kellen had to do was slip away, get into her room, and take it back. Then, justice.

  Sweet, sweet justice.

  He continued to type on his own laptop, but as his fingers flew over the keys, he might as well have been typing about the quick brown fox and the lazy moon, or about how all work and no play makes Kellen a dull boy. He was just biding his time.

  ***

  Kellen stood in front of the mirror in the guest bedroom he shared with Reggie, a deputy deputy communications guy. Reggie provided grammatical copyediting services for the deputy communications director, who provided copyediting for the communications director.

  As Kellen inserted cuff links, Reggie rolled a joint on top of a copy of GQ magazine.

  “You know that door’s not locked,” Kellen said. “Anyone comes in here, you’re done.” The room to Beth’s door probably had a lock. She was on the top floor, right next to LaVey. Only three rooms on the top floor: LaVey’s master bedroom, Beth’s room, and a room reserved for Peter Anders, LaVey’s chief of staff.

  “You’re paranoid,” said Reggie. “Everybody else is already out on the patio having drinks. The weed police aren’t going to come barging in here like it’s a DEA raid.”

  “And where did you intend to smoke that thing?”

  “Why, you want to join me?”

  Kellen took a lint roller from the dresser and caressed his sleeves with downward strokes. “Nope. Just trying to do some internal cost-benefit analysis to see how long it’s going to take you to get caught.”

  Reggie chuffed a laugh. “Edward has literally hundreds of acres back there. After everyone else is all good and liquored up, I’ll just take a little midnight stroll.”

  “You call him Edward? Better not let anyone else hear you say that.”

  “Oh, oh, my bad, I mean the venerable senator from New York, Mr. Edward LaVey.”

  Kellen figured the likelihood of Reggie getting caught was high, so he should probably request a room reassignment, by tomorrow morning at the latest. They were due to stay three more nights at the mansion, and he didn’t need to get mixed up with this stoner. Reggie’s dad, or uncle, or cousin–whoever it was that secured this cushy campaign job for him–wouldn’t be too pleased with Reggie leaving in handcuffs.

  Kellen flashed Reggie a frown in the mirror, then let it twist into a smile when an idea for a backup plan struck. “Tell you what. You do a little favor for me, and I’ll help make sure you get away unnoticed later to smoke that thing.”

  ***

  Kellen joined the rest of the party in the backyard, standing amo
ng New York’s wealthiest and most devious. Everyone vying for the senator’s attention or at least the ear of his chief of staff.

  Funny enough, neither LaVey nor Anders seemed to be anywhere outside.

  Kellen walked past the bar, through the hedge sculptures and pool area, past the fountains and gazebo, but found no sign of the senator. Just a few dozen men and women in tuxedos and formal gowns, sipping expensive drinks and figuring out ways to turn other people’s money into their own.

  Beth appeared at the corner of his eye, standing next to a rapidly melting penguin ice sculpture. As predicted, strapless dress, and no purse or bag, so unless she had the flash drive stuffed up her danger cave, she didn’t have it anywhere on her person.

  He considered approaching her, being coy, but she was too smart for that. Best not to give her any sense of what was coming. Maybe he shouldn’t have come out here at all. She wasn’t looking at him now, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen him walking across the yard.

  And what was he doing out here, standing around and gawking at everyone? He didn’t have any time to waste. A debutante like Beth might go up to her room at any point to powder her nose, and then the game would be over.

  Unless she had nothing to worry about because she’d already erased the drive and had wanted him to see her wearing it, to toy with him. No. He had to stop thinking like that. There was still a chance he could fix this mess and save his career.

  He crisscrossed through the people in the yard, stopping briefly to accept a flute of champagne from a silver tray, which he gulped dry and deposited on an empty lawn chair next to the pool.

  Inside the house. Up the first flight of stairs. Round the corner to ascend the second flight of stairs.

  “Kellen,” said Reggie, leaning against the railing above, tracing a finger up and down the varnished wood.

  “I don’t have time for this right now, whatever it is.”

  “You’re gonna wanna make time. George wants to see you.”

  Why would Reggie’s boss want to see him? What could they possibly have to talk about? Kellen checked his watch. 8:45. At 9:15, senator LaVey would make a speech to the party guests, so Kellen had to be done with his adventures before then. “Fine, where is he?”

  “He’s in our room. We’re still on for that thing, right?”

  “Yes. We’ll do it. Let me find out what George wants and then I’ll be ready.”

  With that, Reggie bounced down the stairs, patting Kellen on the shoulder as he passed.

  Kellen’s pulse reverberated in his neck, thudding against the too-tight tie and making him short of breath. The weed. Reggie must have stashed it in Kellen’s things to avoid capture.

  You’re about to walk into an arrest, a set of handcuffs, and no hope of any further career in politics.

  He blinked the sinister ever-present voice away and leaned over the railing, but Reggie was already gone.

  Maybe he could talk his way out of this. There was still a chance.

  Each time he lifted a leg to ascend a step, lowering it felt like dropping a sandbag. This was a terrible idea. He should run. Maybe go outside first and throw a drink in Beth’s face, but then, definitely run.

  But he didn’t. He climbed the stairs and skulked down the corridor, the velvety carpet underfoot masking the sounds of his Italian loafers.

  He rounded the corner, saw his bedroom door open. George Grant, a man with broad shoulders and arms like tree trunks, was reclining on Kellen’s bed.

  But alone. No DEA, no secret service.

  George looked up. “There he is. Get on in here, Kellen.”

  Kellen stood in the doorway, looking for a copy of GQ with the indisputable evidence, but didn’t see anything. “Um, Reggie said you were looking for me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, indeed I am, m’boy. He tells me you’re good with numbers, like some kind of mathlete or something like that.”

  “Well, sir,” Kellen said, “I do have a master’s degree in Applied Statistics from—”

  “Blah blah blah. You could have just said yes. Come in, come in,” he said, waving Kellen forward.

  Kellen entered the room and narrowed his eyes at an array of papers on the bed around George.

  “Anders has us working on this technology jobs initiative, and I’ll tell you what, I can’t make hide or hair of all this gobbledegook. I need you to take a look at these numbers and help me find the positive in it. Areas for growth; that kind of thing.”

  Kellen checked his watch, barely slipping his hand out of his jacket sleeve. 8:50. “Does it need to be now, sir?”

  George’s tone soured. “As a matter of fact, it does. This speech is in two days, and I need to present Senator LaVey with an angle, so we can write the damn thing. I can’t do that without understanding what the hell I’m looking at.”

  Kellen shifted in his shoes. “I understand, sir. I’ll get right on it.”

  George crossed the room but turned back to Kellen before leaving. “I’m counting on you to do good work this time.”

  This time. Beth had poisoned them all against him. “Absolutely. I’ll take care of it.”

  When George left, Kellen walked to the papers and flipped through a couple. Half of them were handwritten, lazy pie charts scrawled in red ink and graphs that made no sense. He checked his watch again.

  Screw it, this could wait.

  He raced back to the stairs and ascended to the third floor. The house felt still and quiet at this level, as if sound barriers had been installed to mask the outside world. A large porcelain tiger stared back him from its marble perch at the top of the stairs.

  Kellen eased down the hall toward the three bedrooms, careful to hesitate at every step for the possibility of sounds. The darkened corridor seemed still. How would he explain his presence if someone caught him? An errand for Beth, maybe? That might work, but only for a few minutes.

  When he reached the three doors clustered at the end of the hall, he paused. Which one was Beth’s? He assumed the one straight ahead would be the master bedroom, so not that one.

  He made a guess at the left door. He pressed his ear to the door and heard nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat.

  He tried the knob. It opened.

  This isn’t going to work. You’re going to fail and they’ll catch you and send you to prison.

  “Be quiet,” Kellen whispered to the voice.

  His head swam as he crossed the threshold. No purse laying around, no overnight bag on the bed. The flash drive had to be hidden away in a drawer, or maybe in the closet.

  Atop the dresser was a collection of campaign pins, featuring pictures of a ring of burning suns encircling a pair of disembodied hands shaking. The graphics looked terrible, like some kind of amateur-hour designer tryout.

  He opened the top drawers, saw nothing but a collection of socks. He opened the drawers below that and found plain white t-shirts. Odd. The drawer below that, boxers. Men’s boxers.

  There wasn’t a piece of women’s clothing in the dresser. There was also a man’s watch resting on top of it, next to the campaign buttons.

  He was in the wrong room.

  As he gasped, the doorknob behind him jiggled.

  ***

  Kellen dashed toward the closet, desperate to get out of sight. A thought flitted through his mind that at least it was thick carpet instead of hardwood.

  Whoever had come in hadn’t started yelling and calling for security, so that was a good sign.

  “It’s not the speech I’m worried about,” said a deep voice as Kellen nestled between a rack of shoes and a pile of blankets. Edward LaVey, sounded like.

  “I know, I know,” said another voice. Peter Anders, LaVey’s chief of staff.

  “The whole thing feels paper thin. All it takes is one strong voice, and they’re going to tear right through it.”

  “You’re tense,” Anders said. “We still have a few minutes, why don’t you take your shoes off?”

  “I don’t think we have t
ime for that. I need a minute to myself here.”

  “It’s starting soon,” Anders said.

  LaVey sighed. “You’re sure the science is solid?”

  “I don’t want you to worry about that,” Anders said. “We’ve got policy-makers in every branch, people at every major news station and all the high-profile blogs, plus a thousand other points of contact. They won’t know what hit them.”

  A few seconds of silence passed, and Kellen felt a twinge in his back because of his awkward hiding spot. He willed it to go away because the last thing he needed was a rack of shoes tumbling on his head right now. The pain blinked on and off, and he breathed through it.

  “The stuff that comes after is what worries me more,” said LaVey. “No one has every attempted anything like this before.”

  “What’s Jefferson’s saying about the tree of liberty? You know the one I’m talking about.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better about this.”

  “Eddie, what we’re doing here is a good thing. It’s a necessary thing. When it’s all over, we’ll get the chance to do it right.”

  “Aw Christ, it’s almost nine,” LaVey said. “I need to call the governor before I address the donors.”

  “Okay, let’s get to it. Don’t forget to pass along congratulations to his son. He just graduated Yale law.”

  The voices continued and then grew faint, followed by the sound of the door shutting.

  Kellen counted to sixty before doing anything. He exhaled, pushed the shoe rack out of the way, then leaned out of the closet. He paused to be sure he was alone. What was all that about the tree of liberty? He couldn’t remember the specifics of the quote, but it had something to do with change, or disrupting the status quo. Maybe LaVey was planning a presidential run.

  All the more reason to get the flash drive and cast Beth into the fiery pit of justice.

  Kellen leaped to his feet and dashed across the room. But as soon as he opened the door, his entire world collapsed. In the hall, with a devilish grin on her face, stood Beth. She held the flash drive necklace in one hand, twirling the chain in a leisurely circle.