Access to Power

by Robert Ellis

  He watched Brown pass, then waited a beat before getting up and exiting the theater. When he found the lobby empty, he moved to the glass doors and looked outside, but all he saw was Merdock’s limo idling at the curb with its parking lights on.

  Frank turned back to the lobby and noticed the restroom. Pushing open the door, he called out Brown’s name in a low voice but no one answered.

  It occurred to him that Brown probably hadn’t left the theater. That the consultant had only been moving to a seat in back for a better view of the audience. Lou Kay wouldn’t be mentioning what Merdock had done to him until the debate was nearly over. It would have more impact that way, and Merdock wouldn’t have the time or opportunity to undo what was about to happen. Brown would want to be behind the audience so that he could gage their reaction and savor it.

  Frank left the lobby and started down the hall toward the stage entrance. The theater was on the other side of the wall and he could hear the audience clapping through the exits. He needed to keep walking, keep moving, maybe watch his client take the big fall to nowhere from the wings. He found the steps at the end of the hall and started downstairs. When he turned the corner, the space narrowed and finally came to an end as it met a darker passageway. The walls were unfinished, the stage creaking overhead. He stopped to get his bearings and noticed the set of stairs to the left leading directly to the stage. Above the handrail, a red light was mounted on the wall blinking on and off. Cameras were rolling. He heard the moderator ask Merdock a question, the words so loud and clear that they might have been in the same room.

  Frank had another idea where Brown might be when he turned away from the stairs and noticed the dressing rooms. They could talk freely here without the fear of being seen together. He started down the passageway, keeping his eyes on the light leaking from a door at the very end. The door was cracked open. Reaching for the handle, he heard someone talking inside and stopped as he recognized the voice.

  It was Juliana Merdock. Frank had picked the wrong dressing room.

  “We’re renting this space on election night,” she was saying to someone in the room.

  Frank peered through the crack. Juliana was holding a dress against her body and displaying it like a model working a runway. She seemed pleased with herself, in command.

  “What do think of my dress?” she asked. “We’re meeting the governor for dinner tonight.”

  Frank noticed the TV on the counter beneath the makeup lights. He couldn’t see who she was talking to, but guessed that it was the man with spiked gray hair. Frank could see his shoes, his slacks, a piece of the couch that he was sitting on as he watched the debate on TV. From the tone of Juliana’s voice, it seemed obvious that they’d spent a lot of time together.

  Frank turned away from the door, looking for Lou Kay’s dressing room in the darkness.

  “You’re not listening, are you?” Juliana was saying. “You’re thinking about what it would be like if I took off my clothes...”

  Her words had a certain reach about them.

  Frank turned back, watching Juliana unfasten her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Her legs were wrapped in black stockings. She had a lazy smile going as she unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. Frank came up for air. Leftover images of his sex-talk dinner with Juliana-the-innocent appeared before his eyes, mixing with other images from darker places of a young Juliana doing Merdock’s crippled father on silk sheets. It made sense, he realized. The man with gray hair had been Merdock Sr.’s bodyguard. This wasn’t their first time.

  Juliana opened her bra, pulling it away from her shoulders and tossing it on the counter. As her breasts bounced out, they looked soft and buoyant. Her husband had just been asked a question and was answering it on TV. Juliana crossed the room, kneeling before the killer and pushing his legs open. She pressed her chest against his thighs and began unfastening his belt. She was looking toward his face, opening his pants and reaching inside.

  “You think that I’m impressed with you,” she said in that earthy voice of hers. “That I think you’re brilliant. Devious. Able to keep secrets just the same as I do.”

  She was squeezing him, stroking him. Frank saw his hand touch her breasts and begin kneading them. When the man didn’t say anything, Juliana flashed a sleepy smile his way and went down on him.

  The veil was gone. Frank eased the door open an inch. When his view cleared, he let go of the door and recoiled.

  It wasn’t the killer. It was Stewart Brown.

  A moment passed as if Frank had been hit in the face. He staggered down the passageway through the red haze. Stumbling past the blinking light, he lumbered up the steps onto the stage. He was in hell—everything dream-like—and it stung. He looked past the cables and props. Merdock and Kay were standing before their podiums like puppets. He noticed the moderator staring at him and turned away. Off to the side, he found a chair against the wall and managed to sit down.

  He needed to get a grip on things, but couldn’t. At some point in the next few minutes Lou Kay was supposed to destroy Mel Merdock. That was the plan. And Frank realized that it wouldn’t be happening now.

  “But Mr. Merdock,” the moderator was saying. “What about the character issue and the politics of personal destruction? Haven’t we had enough?”

  When Frank looked up, he saw his client smiling at him, then turn to the camera, waxed and polished like a complete fraud. Frank turned away, feeling the rage roll through his body in hard waves.

  “Voters have a right to know who they’re voting for,” Merdock said in a smooth voice. “That’s what the character issue is all about. And that’s why I’m calling for an end to politics as usual. I think everyone would agree that it’s time to reclaim the values that made this country great. We can’t do that as long as our streets aren’t safe. Our schools. Crime is the big issue right now and I want to do something about it.”

  The election was fixed. Juliana was blowing Stewart Brown.

  The audience started clapping. Frank heard it through the haze. Merdock had segued between the moderator’s question and his own talk-points almost seamlessly. While the moderator caught it, no one sitting in the theater seemed to notice.

  “I’d appreciate direct answers,” the moderator said. “Mr. Kay, what about the politics of personal destruction?”

  Lou Kay looked at Merdock with contempt, then acknowledged the audience and turned to the camera. Kay’s hair was graying at the sides and though he may have been ten years older than Merdock, he didn’t look it. Instead, it was a difference of experience. Kay had a certain wisdom about him. The look of someone who had dug both hands into the work of life and wasn’t afraid of getting scraped or bruised. His face was bright and forceful. And as he stood on stage in a dark suit, a crisp white shirt and red tie, Frank could tell that the man still had the enthusiasm of youth. He wasn’t relaxed or even smooth. His words were heated and straightforward, as direct as an arrow speeding to its mark.

  What difference did it make now?

  “The character issue,” Kay said. “If we look at it as Mr. Merdock does, then ladies and gentleman, every one of us is a machine. That’s right. If something goes wrong with a machine, we look at it and say it’s broken. Only we aren’t machines. No human being can be reduced to a single moment in their life and said to be broken. People build on the mistakes they’ve made, not their victories. It’s called character. But politics isn’t about character anymore. Politics is about winning, as if it were some kind of sport. Only there aren’t any rules because politics isn’t a sport. And there isn’t an umpire on the field to cry foul every time someone running for office crosses the line. The press likes to write these tactics off by calling it a tough campaign. Nothing could be further from the truth. If politics is about winning at all costs, then Mr. Merdock, I say we’re relinquishing our souls.”

  Kay believed in what he was saying and it had rubbed off on the audience. The clapping gave way to cheers, and some people even stood. Frank c
ould see Merdock shifting his weight uncomfortably and fighting the urge to look down at his notes for help.

  “But Mr. Kay,” the moderator said. “You’ve been taking some pretty big hits lately. Aren’t the polls indicating that voters agree with Mr. Merdock? Isn’t it a voter’s right to know who they’re voting for?”

  The moderator had opened the door to the big moment without even knowing it. This was the point when Lou Kay was supposed to tell the world who Mel Merdock really was. But Kay didn’t have the whole story. He didn’t know who his consultant was.

  Frank glanced into the audience and noticed Stewart Brown returning to his seat. His bloated form seemed to bob as he sat down. His pasty skin was flushed and he had a certain glow about him. He looked like he was sweating, and Frank wanted to vomit.

  “Mr. Kay,” the moderator said. “Is anything wrong, Mr. Kay?”

  Kay was staring at Merdock, appraising the man and not answering the question. The long silence was working its way through the audience. Frank knew that Kay had seen his fax. Mel Merdock had paid his ex-wife a quarter million dollars to call him a wife beater. Now Merdock was standing just three feet away. It had to be eating him up inside. Once he’d read the fax, Frank imagined that Kay would’ve gone directly to his consultant. Brown would’ve looked the papers over and understood exactly what they had. Yet Brown needed to bury the information if he wanted to continue his fuck sessions with Juliana Merdock. He couldn’t tell his client that he hadn’t been laid in ten years—not ever by a woman who looked like Juliana. He couldn’t say what it did to him when she looked at him with those eyes of hers and then smiled and went down on him. Juliana was young, innocent, virginal-looking. Brown repulsed everyone he met. He couldn’t tell his client that when he pawed at her breasts with his fat fingers, they felt just like paradise. He couldn’t tell anyone that sex with Juliana was like gorging on forbidden fruit. That he really, really needed to eat the fruit.

  Instead, Frank imagined, Brown would’ve come up with an excuse. He would’ve given Kay a reason why the information Frank had sent them wasn’t as good as it seemed. Frank wondered how Brown might have put it. Whatever the argument, he could see Lou Kay still wrestling with the conversation as he gave Merdock one last look and finally turned to the cameras.

  “My opponent,” Kay said, coming to some sort of decision. “My opponent is the kind of man who chooses to read his answers out of a poll because he’s on TV tonight. He’s telling you what he thinks you want to hear. I don’t. Could the character issue be any more clear than that? My campaign has nothing to do with Mr. Merdock and what he can buy with all his money. Nor does it have anything to do with the people who tell him what to say. A person’s self-respect begins with a good education and a job they enjoy doing. That’s my campaign. That’s what I stand for and that’s who I am. It’s called the American Dream. And I think it’s time we dusted it off.”

  The audience clapped, but with less enthusiasm than before. The debate was over and people were rising to their feet and hurrying for the lobby doors. What Lou Kay had said was eloquent, even true. But the message was over the audience’s head and Frank guessed that the debate had been a draw. Kay needed more than that. He had everything he needed to win the election tonight, but he hadn’t used it. Somehow Brown had convinced his client to take the high road instead.

  The high road.

  Frank looked up and saw the candidates crossing the stage toward the stairs and their dressing rooms. He got to his feet as if facing a firing squad. Merdock was smiling at him, overflowing with excitement and giddy with laughter. Merdock hadn’t made a mistake tonight and that’s all he really needed to do. He was mouthing the words, I won, Frank. I won. As Merdock finally vanished into the darkness beneath the stage, Frank knew that his good wife would be waiting for him in her new dress. He wondered if they’d kiss.

  Chapter 57

  He found a bathroom off the stage. Leaning over the sink, Frank scrubbed his face with soap and water. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he guessed that it would take more than soap and water to wash away the memory of what he’d witnessed tonight. What he’d just seen.

  He wiped his face dry with a paper towel and walked out. As he crossed the stage, he passed the TV crew wrapping their lights and cameras. The theater was dark, the party over. But as he moved up the aisle toward the lobby, something caught his eye. It was Jake Merdock, huddled in the shadows of an exit nook with someone who looked like a college student or campaign volunteer. The kid was wearing thick glasses, a blue oxford shirt and khakis and appeared soft and round. They were speaking in whispers. Whatever the conversation, it seemed too intense for either one of them to notice Frank. As the student unfolded papers from his pocket and handed them to Jake, Frank legged it up the aisle to the lobby doors, relieved that he hadn’t been seen.

  He needed air. The kind with nicotine in it.

  The building lights had been shut down. A small group of Merdock supporters were waiting for their man on the front steps, chanting his name and waving banners in the darkness. Behind them Frank could see Merdock’s limo, still idling by the curb like a black cloud.

  He lit a cigarette. Then he stepped away from the building and headed into the parking lot, still thinking it over. The press would treat the debate as a nonevent, the stories on TV brief. Merdock’s rising poll numbers would be displayed beside the reporter, adding to his momentum. Even if Frank found a way to leak the information himself, it wouldn’t be coming from Kay on LIVE television. Instead, it would have the look and feel of a typical campaign tactic. The kind of thing no one would believe or want to see. The election would be over long before anyone even got close to figuring it out.

  Frank spotted his Chevy in the back of the lot. As he started toward the car, two men began rushing toward him from the shadows. He couldn’t make out their faces and quickened his step. Once they got closer, he turned back and realized that it was Lou Kay and Stewart Brown.

  Frank took a deep breath and exhaled, giving Brown a hard look as the two men approached him. Brown’s usually sweaty skin had passed through his shirt, soaking his suit jacket around the collar and underneath his arms. He looked worried and distraught. It seemed obvious that Brown didn’t want to be here.

  Frank turned to Kay, measuring him. “You were pretty good tonight,” he said. “Who wrote it?”

  Lou Kay stood before him just as he had on stage. “I did,” he said. “I do most of my writing. I didn’t hire Stewart to beat Merdock, Frank. I can handle Mel on my own. I hired Stewart to beat you.”

  Frank met his gaze and nodded. “But you didn’t mention the money Merdock paid your ex-wife to lie. You started to, then you stopped.”

  Kay shrugged. Brown took a step forward, his voice shaking.

  “How did you get a copy of that check, Frank?”

  Frank ignored him, keeping his eyes on Kay. He wanted an answer and waited the candidate out.

  Kay cleared this throat. “Stewart wasn’t sure that we could trust you,” he said finally. “We’ve been on the wrong side of your tricks before.”

  “Bullshit,” Frank said, almost shouting. “I gave you everything you needed to turn this thing around. We’re only two days out. This was the moment. This was your last chance.” He glanced at Brown and noticed the man’s eyelids quivering. “What the hell are you doing, Brown? What are you up to?”

  Frank tossed his cigarette onto the pavement and stepped on it. He didn’t need to ask Brown the question. He already knew what he was up to. Still, he found the man’s demeanor curious. Brown didn’t appear angry. Instead, he still seemed nervous, even confused.

  A van pulled up to them and stopped. When the middle door slid open and a young woman from the campaign called out, Kay waved her off and turned back to Frank.

  “I’m trying to run a clean campaign,” he said. “I don’t mind hitting Mel on the issues. Hitting him hard if I have to. But what good does it do anybody if I get in the mud with him?”
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  “What’s defending your name have to do with throwing mud?” Frank said.

  Kay climbed into the van, taking a moment to think it over. “If something’s wrong with Merdock,” he said, “then why are you letting the president campaign with him tomorrow?”

  Frank felt the pull in his gut. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the van as he tried to absorb what he’d just learned. He recognized the driver. It was the campaign volunteer, the student he had seen talking to Jake Merdock in the theater.

  Brown shuddered, his face still showing confusion. “What’s happened?” he said in a low voice. “Why are you doing this, Frank? Why are you trying to burn your own guy down?”

  A long moment passed. Then Frank grabbed Brown by his jacket and yanked him closer. They were standing face to face, and he gave Brown a good look as he smiled at him through clenched teeth.

  “Your fly’s down,” he said.

  Brown froze, his beady little eyes lighting up with understanding. Frank pushed him away in disgust. As Brown stumbled toward the van and climbed in, Frank glanced back at the driver and caught the kid staring at him with a haunting stillness in his eyes. When the van finally drove off, Frank followed its progress through the lot until he began to notice the sound of Merdock’s supporters chanting their candidate’s name in the gloom.

  He shook it off as best he could. Digging his cell phone out of his pocket, he climbed into the Chevy and sped out of the lot. Mario picked up on the second ring.

  “It’s me,” Frank said. “You need to get over to RAVE’s office and make sure Eddie’s ready with his camera. That check to Sylvia Kay. They’re picking it up tonight.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Kay didn’t use the negative on Merdock. Brown talked him out of it. Brown’s killing his own client.”