Selected: A Thriller

by J. Allen Wolfrum

  Susan drove away from the coffee shop. In her rearview mirror, she spotted a new white Ford pickup truck pull into the road as she turned the corner. Susan knew she was being followed. She went into survival mode.

  Susan drove toward work and took a quick detour for gas. She looked up from the pump and saw the white Ford pickup pass through the intersection. Her concern shifted to the safety of Greg and Tommy. She dialed her father.

  “This is Earl.”

  “Dad, this is Susan.”

  “I know who it is. Who else calls me Dad?”

  “Dad, this is serious. Did the kids make it to school today?”

  “Of course. Why?” asked Earl.

  “Do you know for sure? Did you see them go into the school?”

  Susan looked up and saw the pickup pass the intersection one block north. They were working a parallel grid pattern. A good technique in a crowded city, but in a small town like Coeur d’Alene it was much easier to detect.

  “They were late this morning and missed the bus so I dropped them off myself,” replied Earl.

  “I need a favor. Do not tell Mom. I need you to go check on Tommy and Greg at school. Make up an excuse. Get eyes on them and stay alert for anything that feels out of place. I think I’m being followed.”

  “Roger. I’m on it,” Earl said as he hung up the phone.

  Susan leaned on the truck as she heard the click of the gas nozzle shutting off. She raced through possible scenarios.

  Back at the house, Earl walked into the kitchen. Rose stood at the counter emptying the dishwasher. She turned her head toward Earl. “Who were you talking to on the phone, honey?”

  “It was the school. Tommy forgot his backpack in the car today. The teacher’s assistant called to ask if I would run back to school and drop it off,” replied Earl.

  “I can do it once I get done with the dishes.”

  “No, don’t worry about it, honey. I need to stop by the hardware store this morning anyway.”

  Earl walked into the bedroom to get the car keys and his jacket. He opened his top dresser drawer and pulled out an old cigar box. Inside the cigar box was his snub-nosed .38 revolver. He opened the cylinder, checked to make sure it was loaded, and tucked it into his waistband.

  Susan pulled out of the gas station and headed back toward downtown. She parked on Fourth street and walked across the street to the Breakfast Nook, a new diner in town. No sign of the white Ford. She walked through the front doors and saw a young woman with a microphone at the counter talking to the owner. Before Susan could turn around, the reporter recognized her.

  “Good morning president Select Turner, do you have time to answer some questions? You haven’t made a public statement yet. Have you seen the headlines?”

  Susan ignored her question. “Have we met?”

  “No, I don’t believe we have, my name is Brittney Johnston.” She shook hands with Susan.

  “Nice to meet you, Brittney. Yes, I have seen the headlines. I’d love to talk to you but I left my purse in the car. Let me go grab it, freshen up for the camera, then I’ll give you a statement. How does that sound?”

  “Of course, I’ll get the crew ready.” Brittney Johnston was at the Breakfast Nook doing a piece for the morning news about the first restaurant in Coeur d’Alene to offer cronuts on their menu. An interview with the new president Select was a career-changing moment.

  Susan walked toward the restrooms and slipped out the delivery door into the alley. She quickly walked for three blocks being careful to not be seen from the street. She came around the corner and took a peek down Fourth street. She saw the white Ford pickup parked next to the curb; it stuck out like a sore thumb. The passenger had his head stuck out of the window and was straining to see the entrance of the Breakfast Nook.

  Susan was two blocks behind the white Ford pickup. She quickly moved closer and positioned herself to be hidden from the pickup as she approached. Their reaction under stress would tell her all she needed to know. She walked up to the open passenger window from behind the truck and loudly announced, “Hey there! You look new in town… need directions?”

  The man in the passenger seat turned around with a startled look on his face. Before he could reply, Susan jumped up on the side step of the truck and leaned her head into the window. “If you’re looking for a place to eat, the Breakfast Nook has the best ham and cheese omelet in town and I heard they’ve got cronuts now.”

  The driver quickly shot back, “Thank you, ma’am, we’ll give it a try.”

  Susan leaned back and looked the passenger in the eye. “Why are you following me?”

  Both men looked at each other but no words came out. Susan saw a Beretta M9 pistol and a radio lying on the console. It was the same type of pistol General LeMae’s men were carrying.

  “Are you working for General LeMae?” Susan said.

  The driver and passenger both looked as if they were being scolded by a piano teacher. Both nodded their heads and replied in unison, “Yes, ma’am.” The driver immediately followed up their admission of guilt: “Ma’am, this is our first security detail with the general. I really don’t want to go back behind a desk. Have some mercy. Please don’t tell the general.”

  “Aww, aren’t you cute? I bet you still wait for Mommy to tuck you in at night.” Susan raised her eyebrows right before jumping down from the side step of the pickup. She gave the hood of the truck a quick slap. “Be good boys and don’t let me catch you following me again.” She shook her head in disbelief as she walked away from the white Ford pickup toward the Breakfast Nook.

  Susan felt her phone vibrate. It was a text from Earl. “Boys are fine. All clear.” Susan walked into the Breakfast Nook and locked eyes with the reporter. “This is going to be quick. I need to get to work. Are you ready?”

  The reporter eagerly nodded her head as the camera and sound men got into position. “Mrs. Turner, how does it feel to be the next President of the United States?”

  Susan looked directly into the camera. “Thank you for asking, Ms. Johnston. Although it is a great honor, I will be declining the selection. I have faith that the alternate will carry on the great traditions of the United States of America and lead the nation to a prosperous and peaceful future.” Before the reporter could get out another question, Susan turned around and walked out the door. She dug in her purse for the scrap of paper General LeMae had given her and dialed the number.

  “This is General LeMae,” said the voice on the phone. Susan heard the whistling wind in the background.

  “Tell your men to stop following me. I don’t appreciate it. I can take care of myself.”

  “What are you talking about? My men aren’t—”

  “Spare me the lies, Curtis. Enjoy your fishing trip and leave me alone.” Susan hung up the phone, got in her car and continued her drive to work.

  General LeMae turned to his security guard. “Find out who’s following Susan Turner. And why.”

  5

  Susan’s statement to the local news caused an uproar in the media. Susan and her boss Mr. Frederick agreed it was best for her to take a vacation until the selection process was over. The thought of relaxing at home for the next week was a welcome break from the chaos of the last two days.

  The evening after her press announcement, Susan sat down at the dinner table with her family.

  “Mrs. Kline said that 200,000 people marched in Washington, DC, to celebrate your selection. Why did you have to tell that reporter you were declining? Why can’t you just say yes? Everyone wants you to be the president,” Tommy said.

  Susan let the silence linger in the air for a moment. “Do you remember last year when you changed positions from striker to midfielder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you switch positions?”

  “Because Chris was a better scorer. I was a better passer and defender,” replied Tommy.

  “Right… and?” prompted Susan.

  “And it was better for the team,” ad
mitted Tommy.

  “That’s why I’m declining the selection. There is someone else out there better suited to lead. I’ve done my duty for the country,” said Susan.

  Rose broke the tension. “Boys, I made peach cobbler for dessert. Help me clean up the plates and you can have some ice cream on top.”

  Before Rose brought out dessert, the doorbell rang. Tommy sprinted from the kitchen to answer the door. Susan overheard their conversation from the dinner table.

  “You look an awful lot like your dad. Are you Tommy or Greg?” the stranger said with a smile.

  “My name is Tommy Turner, nice to meet you.” Tommy extended his hand.

  General LeMae chuckled and shook Tommy’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Tommy Turner. My name is Curtis LeMae. Can I speak to your mother?”

  “Mom! Mr. LeMae is here to see you,” shouted Tommy.

  She stiffened in her chair. “Come on in and make yourself at home, Curtis. I’ll be right there.”

  The sight of General LeMae talking with Tommy in the foyer sent Susan’s heart racing. Susan hid her panic. General LeMae was a good friend but he also brought with him heavy emotional baggage that she hoped would remain in the past where it belonged.

  She walked into the foyer and gave General LeMae a hug.

  “Good to see you again, Curtis. What brings you to town? Doing some fly-fishing up at the cabin?”

  General LeMae smiled. “You know me too well. I can’t resist the challenge of battling those cutthroats on the North Fork.”

  “Where are my manners? Come on in, Curtis. You’re just in time for dessert.” They walked into the kitchen and Susan introduced General LeMae to her family. Rose made another plate of peach cobbler with ice cream for General LeMae.

  Earl broke the awkward silence after the introductions. “Curtis, you mentioned you’ve been doing some fishing. Any luck?”

  “It’s been pretty good. But nothing close to the twenty-five-inch cuts that the locals at the fly shop brag about. You do any fishing, Earl?”

  “I did in my younger days. I spent a good many years chasing brown trout. I used to take Susan with me,” said Earl.

  “Mom, can we be excused?” Greg and Tommy had already finished their dessert and fidgeted at the table.

  “Yes, you may. No video games or TV until your homework is done,” replied Susan.

  The boys jumped up from the table and chased each other upstairs. Earl wiped his mouth and pushed his chair away from the table. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m late for Antiques Road Show. Very nice to meet you, Curtis. It’d be a shame if I don’t find out whether poor old Alice’s rocking chair is worth ten thousand dollars.” Earl grinned and walked into the living room.

  “I need to walk off this cobbler. Curtis, would you like to join me?” asked Susan.

  “Sure, I could use some exercise. Thank you, Rose. The cobbler was fantastic. I hope my unannounced visit didn’t cause you any unnecessary trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. Any friend of Susan’s is welcome here,” replied Rose.

  Susan and General LeMae walked down the driveway to the sidewalk in silence. Susan turned toward General LeMae. “You better have a damn good reason for coming here. If you wanted to talk to me, you could have called.”

  “You’re right I could have called. But I needed to talk to you in private.”

  “What’s so important? I already told you I’m declining the selection. And I told the world yesterday morning.”

  “You and your family are in danger. You hung up on me yesterday before I could explain. If you’re being followed, it’s not by me. I have my men looking into who’s following you and why. But they haven’t reported back. How did you decide you’re being followed?”

  Susan’s posture and tone moved from agitated to concerned. “Two men in their mid-thirties at Calypso’s coffee shop. Looked like former Special Forces Operators. Another team of two in a new white Ford pickup. Following me from a distance using a parallel grid pattern.”

  “Did you get a license plate?”

  “No. But I talked to them. That’s why I assumed they were your men.”

  “You talked to them? What exactly did they say?”

  “I caught them by surprise and accused them of being your men because I saw a Beretta M9 on the console in the truck. The same as your security guards were carrying. They’re standard military issue but no professional would carry one.”

  General LeMae interjected, “Pretty weak association. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, when I approached their truck, I came up from behind and surprised them. First I asked if they needed directions and I followed up by accusing them of being your men.”

  “And?” prompted General LeMae.

  “They both looked down like they’d been caught by the principal in a high school prank. And immediately begged me not to tell you.”

  General LeMae frowned and muttered, “Professionals.”

  Susan nodded. “No kidding. Where do you learn that kind of reaction response and bearing? I surprised them from behind the truck—no way could they have seen me coming. And they both rolled with it.”

  “Yeah, not good at all. This is a problem. We need to be careful until we figure out who they are and who they work for.”

  Susan picked up the pace of the walk. She wanted to get back to the house. A feeling of general unease settled into her psyche. “Before I start losing sleep over the men following me, you said there was something else?”

  “Susan, you’ve already given more to this country than the world will ever know. And no person in their right mind would blame you for declining the selection. But you can’t. The country won’t survive the next year if a truck driver named Andrew Trumble from Woodlawn, Arkansas, is leading our response to the Soviet Union. Can you imagine what would happen if we ended up in a war against the Soviets? The whole world would get dragged into it. Millions would die for no reason. The world would never recover.”

  Susan slowed the pace of her walk as she talked. “Not every president has been a great leader. That’s why the Joint Chiefs are appointed to span multiple presidencies. There are plenty of bureaucrats in DC who’ve been there for decades; everyone knows they really run the government. The president is just a figurehead.”

  “True… in the past, that’s essentially how it worked.” General LeMae stopped at the end of the driveway, turned to Susan, and looked her in the eye. “Over the last decade, Boris Rosinski has been carefully maneuvering to increase the Soviet Union’s influence over other countries. The bureaucrats have been lulled into thinking this is business as usual. They don’t understand the risk of playing political games with another nuclear power. If things go bad with the Soviet Union, the course of human history could be altered in less than ten minutes.”

  Susan looked down at the ground before responding. She put her hands in her pockets and kicked at the dirt. “Do you have any proof of Rosinski’s plans?”

  “What I have is on a flash drive. I can’t give it to you. I shouldn’t even be telling you about it. It’s too dangerous. The drive has documents proving collusion between a large international corporation and several foreign governments. I have copies that will be distributed if anything happens to me. If the wrong people find out what’s on that drive, they’ll kill anyone associated. They won’t take any risk of the information getting to the public.”

  Susan nodded her head, beginning to process the gravity of the situation.

  “Like I said, think about it. The country needs you.” General LeMae’s security detail pulled up to the driveway in a black Suburban. General LeMae jumped in the backseat and they pulled away.

  6

  On September 14, one day before she needed to reach her official decision, Susan folded clothes in the laundry room. Her mother yelled from the kitchen, “Susan, if you get a chance today, can you run to the store?”

  “Sure, Mom. I’ll go after I finish folding the laundry.”

  On her way ups
tairs, Susan set the laundry basket down on the couch next to her father. Earl set up the television in the living room to be a split screen. The conservative station was on the left side of the screen and the liberal station on the right. Both stations showed a picture of Andrew Trumble, the alternate selection for president. Susan’s curiosity got the best of her; she had to watch.

  The conservative news correspondent interviewed one of Andrew’s former army buddies. They’d been deployed to Iraq together. The screen rotated through pictures of Andrew in the army. In every picture, he was either driving a truck or riding in the cargo bay of an airplane—nothing to indicate he’d been involved in any combat operations or held any leadership position. The highest rank that Susan could make out from the pictures was specialist, a junior enlisted rank.

  Out of the corner of her eye Susan saw Earl staring at the old family photo with a nostalgic look on his face. “What are you thinking about, Dad?”

  Earl smiled. “I was just thinking about when you and your brother were kids. And the summers we spent up at the cabin in Sand Point.”

  Susan chuckled. “Uggh, the snakes.”

  “Yup, the snakes. Your brother would torment you with those things. Then you’d come running back to the cabin screaming bloody murder. Scared the hell out of your mother.”

  Susan shrugged her shoulders. “Hey give me a break, Brad shoved a gardener snake down my shirt. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Fair enough.” Earl smiled. “Brad has always been a prankster. He sure knew how to push your buttons. Do you remember those games of Risk we played at the cabin?”

  Susan gave her father an annoyed look. “How could I forget? Brad and his freakin’ alliances. Right before I had an army strong enough to take him on, he’d form an alliance to stop me. God I hate that game.”