Rose knows in her gut that Coulter was murdered. And that the people behind Peek Industries and possibly others in the Pentagon know far more than they’re willing to admit. And who ordered the autopsy to be fast-tracked? Regardless of whether it was Maynard or not, it’s clear someone else wants to know the truth about Coulter’s death.
She has a disquieting sensation. As if she is being watched by someone. Followed. Instinctively she glances up at one of the security cameras trained along the length of the corridor. The lens, black and shining, stares back. A tiny red LED blinks above it. Rose is aware that anyone could be watching her movements right now and she would never know who.
28.
Jeff and Senator Keller are leading his entourage as they approach the rear of the University of San Diego’s auditorium where tonight’s debate is going to take place.
After a long day preparing the senator, Jeff is feeling tired and aching all over. During the day, Pandora has sent him a few more pictures, with Jeff obliging her with an old holiday pic of him bare-chested. He is torn between aching sexual anticipation and guilt. He tries to push aside such thoughts as he admires the lush tree-lined campus, close to the dazzling expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
‘I hope the lighting is better this time. I nearly fainted under those spotlights in Sacramento,’ says Keller.
They enter the lecture hall. The BNC crew are already there, testing the lighting, rigging and sound. A balding, tubby man in a blue checked shirt and jeans walks towards them and shakes Keller and Jeff’s hands.
‘Pleased to meet you, Senator. I’m Paul Armbrust, the producer. We’ve nearly finished setting up. Make-up department have set up in the annexe just over there.’
Soon after, make-up assistants dab Keller’s face with a light layer of powder.
‘Jeff, could you find me a bottle of water? I’m parched,’ Keller says.
‘Of course.’ Jeff nods, exiting out into the hall. He wanders down the hallway and sees Pandora. She’s handing out flyers to students who are entering the lecture hall.
Jeff walks up to her. She suddenly turns, her elbow knocking his smartphone from his hand. It lands squarely on the wooden floor and the black case shatters, ejecting the battery. A TV crew member pushing a trolley wheels over the top of it, crushing the smartphone into the tiled floor.
‘Sorry, buddy!’
‘Watch what the fuck you’re doing! Fucking moron!’ Jeff snaps.
‘It was an accident! Jerk!’ the man says, disappearing into a corridor.
Jeff feels the urge to vent more, but Pandora takes his arm.
‘Oh my God! Jeff, I’m so sorry!’ she says, stooping down to retrieve the smartphone.
Jeff can’t help but notice the smooth expanse of thigh above the hem of her skirt. She hands him his mangled phone. He feels unexpectedly depressed.
‘I’ll pay for it. It might take a while but I’ll pay you back,’ she says, putting her hand on his arm. Jeff’s eyes catch the nail polish and French manicure. She squeezes his bicep.
‘Hey, look, don’t worry about it,’ he mumbles.
‘So . . .’ She tilts her head and smiles. ‘Are we OK for that drink tonight?’
‘There’s a quiet bar in my hotel.’
‘Perfect,’ she says.
Jeff grabs a bottle of water and heads back to the stage where Keller is standing behind the podium. The stage is draped with royal-blue curtains and a US flag hangs in the middle, between the candidates. Jeff hands him the bottle.
‘Thanks. I was beginning to wither and die.’ He takes a sip before placing the water bottle out of view on his lectern.
‘Looking good, Senator.’ Jeff winks. ‘Senator today . . .’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my boy.’ Keller wags a finger. The lecture theatre is filled to capacity. From stage right, Braxton Grindall enters. A tall, well-built man, with narrow eyes and a large square jawline, his wide face is lightly pockmarked, the marks of a difficult adolescence. His hair is unnaturally dark for a man of his age. He shakes Keller’s hand firmly. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and neat silver tie.
‘Good luck, Christopher,’ he says, before standing behind his podium.
Jeff descends the steps and takes a seat in the front row. Pandora sits with the other interns in the second row. The MC for the evening, George Pope, reads over his cue cards. A sound technician places small black mikes on the candidates’ lapels, runs some soundchecks.
‘OK, everybody, quiet please,’ Armbrust calls out over the hall’s speakers. ‘We’re live in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two . . . And George!’
Pope looks directly into the lead camera, moving in on a dolly track towards him.
‘BNC is proud to host this event tonight in San Diego. We’d like to thank the good people of the city for welcoming us here. Let’s begin by introducing our senatorial candidates tonight, beginning with Republican Braxton Grindall. He made his fortune in real estate and investing in digital start-ups, including the rising star of the industry, WadeSoft. He’s fifty-one years old, married, with two daughters, and is on record as saying that he, too, wants to make America great again.’
The audience laughs at the comment, but there are some catcalls and boos before Pope waves them down.
‘All right, people. That’s enough . . . In the other corner we are pleased to welcome Democrat Senator Chris Keller, current chairman of the Senate Judiciary Subcommittee on Privacy, Technology and Law. Served in the US Army Communications-Electronics Command. Also a graduate of Washington State University. Forty-five years old, married with one daughter.’
Jeff reflects on the candidates. Politics is inherently a dirty profession, but Keller is one of the cleanest players of them all. Grindall, on the other hand, is one of the dirtiest operators around. During the campaign they’d caught a Republican spy posing as an intern snooping around Jeff’s in-tray, and Keller’s own email account had been hacked.
George continues his introduction. ‘Now, in this debate, the candidates will speak for ten minutes, and then the questions I’ll be asking come from the viewers of BNC, social media users and community leaders. Each candidate will have one minute to answer each question, before commenting on each other’s response . . .’
Jeff finds himself taking a deep breath. A verbal dog fight is about to begin.
29.
Jeff looks up at Pope, who shifts his cue cards.
‘Among the many issues to cover tonight, the one I’d like to kick off with is Senator Keller’s controversial Social Media Bill.’
Damn it, Jeff winces. Straight for the jugular.
‘Social media, and especially WadeSoft’s StreamPlex, have been garnering a lot of controversy. Senator Keller’s proposal is that social media should be actively regulated by a new law-enforcement task force. Senator Keller, tell us more.’
Keller smiles at Pope and the audience.
‘Thanks, George. The bill will impact on a whole range of issues, but its ultimate purpose is to aid law enforcement and online safety right across America. We need to sacrifice some of our hard-earned freedoms to ensure our safety in a digitally saturated world. Of course we must talk it through with the American people first, getting their views and consent, but I believe that most people already share my concerns. For the last twenty years we have been undertaking a massive social experiment, only the test laboratory is the real world and we were never asked for our permission. The internet has forever changed the ways we communicate with each other, how we work, our family life, even our sex lives. And now there’s the StreamPlex.
‘A new chapter in this whirlwind romance with technology is nearly upon us. WadeSoft’s latest innovation is the Skin. The experiences it promises are undeniably impressive. But the potential for abuse has now increased one hundredfold. Just li
ke in a real city, how should we regulate wrongdoers, criminals, terrorists, without some lawful presence inside the StreamPlex?
‘Most of you will know this already, but my son Thomas . . . Tom,’ he says, his voice wavering a little, ‘died with the complicity of complete strangers on the Stream, who did nothing to help him.
‘One morning Tom set up his webcam on the Stream . . . Over a period of three hours, he overdosed on paracetamol pills, while strangers typed in comments like “go ahead and do it”, “take more”. Others took the opportunity to insult him, telling him he was a coward, a pussy. Those were the very words they used.’
Silence.
Every cough and rustle of clothing seems like an assault on the ears.
‘He was bright, lovely . . .’ Keller’s voice grows husky. ‘If the Stream had been monitored more closely, maybe he’d still be alive today.
‘America needs this bill. We will seek out and bar makers of extremely violent or perverse content. When my bill is passed we can identify and neutralize threats quickly and effectively. And if it works, it will benefit every American citizen. So that no parent again has to endure what I have!’
There is thunderous applause from the audience, but also an undercurrent of murmuring.
‘Thank you, Senator Keller. Mr Grindall, a number of issues there. Your response?’ Pope says.
Grindall speaks with a deep, gravelly drawl.
‘Thank you, George. The senator’s intentions are noble, but what he is suggesting goes against everything we Americans stand for, and against our God-given constitutional rights. He proposes a high-tech surveillance state, snooping on us via the internet, and now the StreamPlex. He’s asking for censorship, treating adults like kids. The senator’s bill infringes on freedom of speech and the First Amendment. We should trust our citizens to self-regulate. With regard to his proposals for an executive unit monitoring internet usage, this is a tad extreme. I invoke the Fourth Amendment, which I know by heart.’
He places the palm of his right hand on his suit jacket.
‘The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.’
He pauses and looks directly at Keller. ‘What happened to your son was tragic, Senator, but one case—’
‘It’s not just one case,’ Keller interrupts, staring straight at the audience and the cameras. ‘This is not just about my son. Not by a long way. Many of you will know of Shane Koenig, a serial killer who is still at large. Would there be as many murderers, rapists, paedophiles without the internet? The internet is making the world smaller, but it’s brought all those dangerous things closer to us. It’s a new frontier that badly needs a sheriff. Perverts, criminals and terrorists can’t be allowed to hide behind new technologies, as the lawmakers, law enforcers and our security services struggle to catch up. With the people’s permission, I will get control of America again. We must protect our children’s future . . .’
Loud clapping starts from the back of the auditorium. Several audience members rise. Jeff and Pandora join a clear majority of the audience in a roaring standing ovation.
30.
Jeff studies his face in the hotel mirror. There are bags under his eyes. He splashes water over his face and paces towards his bed, where he flops down. The room is neat and simple, with terracotta walls and chrome furniture. A large flat screen hangs across the wall.
‘TV: on.’
Johnee Tallent is on BNC:
‘Welcome to The Tallent Show. After a gripping and passionate debate in San Diego, the candidates Keller and Grindall are neck and neck in our latest poll. Grindall is still in the lead with 50.1 per cent, but Keller has closed the gap and is snapping at his heels with 49.9 per cent.’
Jeff sighs. The senator’s career is still hanging in the balance.
He unpacks the smartphone he bought from a service station on the way back to the hotel. Not as good as the one that got crushed, but as a temporary measure it will do. He presses his index finger and thumb together. He needs to get on the Stream.
‘. . . Hey!’
Jeff’s attention is grabbed back to the screen by Johnee.
‘WS’s Skin launch is next month. Exact details are still very much under lock and key – something of a trademark for Wade Wolff and his team! But knowing those boys, it sure is going to get the world talking. It will change everything . . .’
He inserts his old SIM card and boots the phone up. The signal is full and, skipping the registration steps, he taps out a message to Pandora.
J: Hey . . . got me a new smartphone . . . How’s your room?
After a few minutes, there’s a pop-ping.
P: Hi sexy . . . It’s a bit crappy. I had to get some new sheets.
J: Charming. You’re not sleepy?
P: No . . . far from it. Are you?
J: Not really.
Jeff’s lying. He’s weary from such a long day.
J: So how about that drink? My hotel bar in half an hour?
P: Sure. See you soon. xxx
Jeff’s heart skips a beat. He knows he’s taking a risk. Maybe making a big mistake. But he can’t help himself.
31.
Jeff sits in a booth in the hotel bar. It has a warm, classic feel, with oak bar seats and the glow of concealed lighting on the walls. He has showered, and is wearing a blue denim shirt and jeans. He sees Pandora pausing by the entrance, looking for him. Jeff waves and she approaches him. She’s wearing a fitted black top, tight blue jeans and a brown leather jacket.
‘Hi . . . You look great. Can I get you something?’ Jeff offers, beckoning to a waitress.
‘A margarita.’
‘Good choice.’
The waitress returns with her drink. Jeff holds out his glass. Jack Daniel’s.
‘To the campaign.’
They chink glasses.
Pandora sweeps her long hair back. ‘It was so awesome – honestly, Grindall didn’t get a word in edgeways. Keller’s got some serious firepower. His trending is sky high too. He’s going to win, I know it.’
Jeff’s eyes ease down the fall of her midnight-black hair, the slender length of her neck, the dip in her collarbone. He can see the outline of her bra pushing against the blouse.
He has resigned himself to being unfaithful to Rose, and justified it by telling himself this will be a one-off. Something to get out of his system. As long as Rose never finds out, then what harm can it do?
‘You know, I’ve been thinking . . .’
‘Oh really? Thinking what?’
‘I’d like to open Pandora’s box.’
Pandora smiles. ‘Like I haven’t heard that one before.’
‘You play up to it though, don’t you?’
‘Maybe a little.’
‘So why don’t we stop talking and head back to my room?’
Her eyes widen. ‘Jesus . . . No flirting around first?’
‘Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for weeks now?’
‘Yes . . . I mean, you’re a handsome guy, Jeff. And smart with it, and close to Keller. That ticks a lot of boxes in terms of being attractive. Sure, I flirted with you. You’re quite the catch.’
‘. . . But?’
‘I have a boyfriend.’
‘Now you tell me?’
‘I thought you knew. It’s on my profile. I met him a month back.’
‘After you had been working for the campaign for over three months, and playing me for the last two. Nice.’
She looks hurt. ‘It wasn’t like that. I was drawn to you. I liked you and you t
urn me on. Then Dave came on the scene, and there’s been a kind of overlap. And now I’m worried that you’ll kick me off the campaign if I say no to you.’
Jeff shakes his head. He feels cheap and corrupt and angry that she would accuse him of such a low reaction to her news about her boyfriend.
‘Do you really think I’d do that?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll have to wait and see, won’t I?’
‘I didn’t know about your boyfriend.’
‘It was on Facebook.’
‘Didn’t see it. You can’t rely on Facebook for everything.’
‘True. But I definitely know you’re married,’ she says, pointing at his wedding ring.
Jeff looks down, ashamed at the pathetic figure he must cut chasing after a woman much younger than him.
‘So it’s no as in no?’
Pandora smiles.
You fool. Wake up, Jeff. All this has been a silly infatuation. He burns with embarrassment. There’s going to be no future with her. He’s still trapped by the choices he made all those years ago. Is a man meant to have one woman for the rest of his life? Looking at Pandora is painful now that his bluff has been called. She leans forward, as if to rise from her seat. Then she kisses him on the cheek. Jeff’s not sure how to react. Her scent is overpowering.
‘You’re a great guy, Jeff. Sometimes, we’re just looking.’
Pandora finishes her drink. ‘I’m beat. I’m going to head back. Thanks for the drink.’
She leaves the table, caressing his shoulder briefly as she passes. Jeff sits very still.
Playing With Death Page 15
