The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  “Oh, geez; hmm – ah; Wendi. I think I have an idea of how that might have happened.”

  “Yeah?”

  “There's Wendi, this woman I knew up in Myrtle Beach who was a total Obamabot, and I emailed her a link when I had Donne's speech done.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yup. She emailed back and told me in no uncertain terms that she did NOT like my dissing her 'kid.' That's what she called him. She could well have passed that along to some higherup Dems.”

  “And she was a fanatic?”

  “Oh, god, yes. But I think it was more anti-Republican and that her kid filled the bill for her when he made his appearance. I mean, before any of us had ever heard of him, she would do things like … if someone pointed out a pretty tree, she'd say, 'Tree? Reminds me of Bush, arrrrgggghhhhh,' and go off on a passionate anti-Bush rant. And she had a whole coterie of libs with similar feelings, and they'd reinforce, coddle and support each other.”

  “I know how that works, on both sides. Like pep rallies in high school.”

  “Yeah. Or sports fans as so-called adults, like Boston fans versus New York fans.”

  “I wonder if that's how it got to my ex-boss's bosses.”

  “From Wendi? Don't know; could be.”

  “But I don't remember how it got to me, and that was way before it got to them.”

  “And then there was Frank, an equally passionate Republibot, and he could have done the same thing on the other side. And all I wanted to do was get some feedback on some specific things in Donne's policies.”

  “Red flags in front of angry bulls, Jake; both sides. I sure hope whoever is tailing you is a friendly and can also protect you.”

  “Oh, geez, oh, geez. Back to paranoia.”

  “Paranoia is what keeps us alive, in our business; that's what we used to say in the Agency. Jake, I gotta tell ya, I'm still looking over my shoulder, 'cause I made some pretty dangerous enemies back in the eighties, and they do have long memories. Believe me, I speak from experience.” She shuddered and stroked the scar on her shoulder. After a beat, Jake reached over and stroked her hand, then took it in his.

  “I believe you, Pam, and I'm … I'm … I don't know … what do I – what do we do now?”

  “We wait, and watch, and see what happens, keep our eyes open and stay cool, very cool. But you should stop giving every Tom, Dick and Harry the link to the web site.”

  “I can do that, I think.”

  “Geez, Jake, your shoulders are really tight. How about you try to compartmentalize all that stuff and go lie down and I'll give you a massage?”

  “That sounds great, Pam; thanks.”

  “Just put the tailing stuff in a little box in a back corner of your brain and take several deep breaths … and take your clothes off.”

  Jake smiled for the first time since they had gotten to the condo and complied. Pam, also in her birthday suit, got to work on Jake's shoulders and back.

  Ten minutes later, with Jake's back and shoulders feeling as relaxed as a plate of spaghetti (cooked, of course), Pam did a final feather-light tour of his back, arms and legs and then rolled off of him and stood up.

  “Okay, Jake, now roll over, take out your teeth and keep your eyes closed, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jake mumbled and did as she asked.

  A minute later, as Jake gasped and squirmed, Stevie Bruce was the ecstatic recipient of a Neapolitan Suzanne, and a few minutes later, of a Neapolitan Ginny May, the latter accompanied by the Bolero.

  Seventeen minutes after that, Pam's “Oh, my GODD” was louder and much longer than usual, followed immediately by yet another … and another … and another … and another, and then she collapsed onto Jake's chest, breathless and gasping.

  When she finally caught her breath, she whispered, “Oh, Jake, I love it that you quit smoking. Did you quit again between the airport and here? My god!!!”

  Jake, also breathless and gasping, managed to mumble, “I guess it was good for you, too.”

  Pam started with a giggle, then a chuckle, then a full-out laugh, to the point that she started snorting again. She rolled onto her back, pulling him over on top of her, Stevie Bruce and Ginny May still in their joyful but now relaxed communion.

  “I so missed this, Jake. I love having you in and on and around me.”

  “Me, too, Pam. Who'da thunk it?” Jake nuzzled her throat and ear, until Pam turned her head and began what turned into a solid half hour of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, cuddling and snuggling, with Stevie Bruce and Ginny May alternately throbbing and squeezing, until Stevie Bruce appeared to be fully resuscitated, at which point Pam hit the remote and the Bolero played once again.

  Three floors up, Sharon's voice rasped, “Good for you, Jakey baby, good for you.” Then she headed to the balcony for a smoke.

  One floor below Pam's condo, Michael and Janice McGilligan, 80-ish snowbirds from Indiana, had just returned from a bingo game at their church and were setting their walkers beside the bed as they slowly clambered in.

  “Do you hear that, Janice?” Michael asked. “Remember when we used to make love to it?”

  “That was fifty years ago, you old fart. Twenty years ago, you couldn't even last as long as the 'Hall of the Mountain King,' and now you probably can't last as long as a thirty-second commercial jingle.”

  “Ah, go to sleep, you old bitch.”

  “You too, sweetie.”

  They air-kissed and were sound asleep in minutes.

  Twenty-six minutes later, as Jake lay breathless and sweating and Pam lay breathless and glistening, a little box opened in the corner of Jake's brain and sent a message, which Jake tried but failed to keep from exiting his mouth.

  “I guess this would be a bad time to mention the death threats.”

  -94-

  Friday, March 2, 2012

  8:47 a.m. EST

  A network morning talk show

  After another solid week of promos for Donne's interview, using the first three questions and answers, Lindsey smiled at the camera after a commercial break.

  “Welcome back. I'm Lindsey Framingham, and I've now got another clip from my exclusive interview with Gordon Donne, the man we all now call boss.”

  The screen cut to the same shot of Lindsey and Gordon Donne on the chairs in the Oval Office that was used in the first promo series.

  “Mr. Donne,” Lindsey began, “on your foreign policy, what style do you intend to use?”

  “Well, Lindsey, I'm not a wuss like your last president and I'm certainly not a cowboy like the one before him. I intend to be flexible, since every foreign issue is full of its own nuance. But generally, as you've seen, I tend to be strong, but thoughtful. For example, when Iran -- ”

  The screen cut to a medium closeup of Lindsey in the studio.

  “If you want to find out what Iran did and how Donne reacted, we'll be running the whole interview on this show on Friday, March 16th. Be sure to mark that on your calendar. But now, back to Rose and Tom and their guest, the brother of a 57-year-old bodybuilder who told people he had the body of a 22-year-old, which proved true when the Toledo Police came and took her corpse out of his freezer.

  “Rose, Tom, take it away. Oh, oops.” She giggled and blushed as the camera cut to a three-shot of Rose and Tom and their guest.

  -95-

  Six Months Earlier

  Sunday, September 18, 2011

  11:05 p.m.

  Bonita Springs, Florida

  “What death threats, Jake? When? How many?”

  “There've been sixtee- – no, seventeen of 'em, I think. All anonymous emails, from untraceable email servers. The first one came in just after I dropped you at the airport last month. Then they sort of trickled in, with a few big spurts here and there, and I found the last one just before I left to pick you up tonight; it was sent this afternoon.”

  “Oh, geez, Jake. Were any of them credible?”

  “Maybe four, five; most of 'em were just rants, with a 'you should die' kind
of thing in there.”

  “But the others? Specifics? Reasons? Methods?”

  “Reasons, yes; specifics or methods, not really, at least as I remember them.”

  “You saved them, right?”

  “Of course. You want to see 'em?”

  “Absolutely. You know that was a big part of what I did in the Service, threat assessment, judging credibility and profiling and tracking down the senders.”

  “I figured that, but I didn't know for sure.”

  “Yup; four years out of my twenty.”

  “You want to see 'em?”

  “Do any of them have an immediate timeframe?”

  “No; all just sorta general.”

  “Can we look at them tomorrow?”

  “Oh, of course. I didn't bring them along. I just wanted this to be a big welcome home night for you.”

  “It sure has been, Jake, even bigger than I could ever have hoped for.” She giggled and then yawned. “I'm sorry, Jake.”

  Jake chuckled, too. “Oh, Pam, that's okay. And I'm sorry for even bringing it up; it just sorta popped out.”

  Pam giggled even more.

  “What? What'd I say?”

  Pam, laughing even harder, said, “Think about it, Jake.”

  Perplexed, Jake did, and then finally chuckled. “Oh, Pam.”

  “Bravo, Jake.”

  Then, again entangled in and around each other, they drifted off into a long, deep sleep.

  As the sun rose, the Bolero played … and so did they.

  -96-

  Friday, March 9, 2012

  8:47 a.m. EST

  A network morning talk show

  After another solid week of promos for Donne's interview, using four questions, Lindsey smiled at the camera after a commercial break.

  “Welcome back. I'm Lindsey Framingham, and I've now got another clip from my exclusive interview with Gordon Donne, the man we all now call boss.”

  The screen cut to the same shot of Lindsey and Gordon Donne on the chairs in the Oval Office.

  “Mr. Donne,” Lindsey began, “some people are still confused about your fix for Social Security. Can you clear that up for them?”

  “Sure, Lindsey. First, we eliminate the cap on earnings subject to the tax, we include investment income and capital gains, we drop the rate to five percent, and we exclude the first 20,000 dollars from that tax. Then --”

  The screen cut to a medium closeup of Lindsey in the studio.

  “If you want to find out more on that, we'll be running the whole interview on this show next week, on Friday, March 16th. Be sure to mark that on your calendar. But now, back to Rene and her guest, the mother of the eight-year-old girl who was arrested by Dallas police for operating an unlicensed business by charging neighborhood kids a quarter each for rides in her back yard on her imported Egyptian camel. Rene, what's the deal with that?”

  -97-

  Five Months Earlier

  Monday, October 10, 2011

  10:55 p.m.

  Cyberspace

  The Instigator finished editing the latest in his series of emails, added the appropriate attachment, leaned back in his chair and hit SEND.

  This email, similar to the others, read as follows:

  “Dear Sir/Madam(s):

  “This is to advise you that the enclosed document will be included in a forthcoming publication, and will be delivered simultaneously to law enforcement authorities and to the press, not only in your country of residence, but around the world.

  “Nothing you can do can stop this process, but I can. I can also solve the problem for you … permanently. However, since there is great personal risk and danger involved for me and/or whichever of my associates actually performs the action, it will be costly for you. In fact, the price is a non-negotiable 20 million euros, ten million as a nonrefundable deposit, the balance due upon completion.

  “I am sure, once you have perused the attached document, you will see that that is a minor cost for you compared to the damage that publication and distribution of that information could do to your organization and/or to you and your associates personally.

  “While this email address is untraceable (and I suggest strongly that you make no effort to try; you will regret the result), you may reply to it. I am in no rush for your decision, but the date of publication is coming upon us very quickly, and that should inform and hasten your deliberations.

  “Please be advised that the attached document includes some documents which the United States has classified, some up to the level of Top Secret/NOFORN, but I have redacted any information which could in any way reveal the identities of confidential informants or foreign assets who may have contributed information contained therein. However, that information is currently in my possession, and once your current problem has been solved to our mutual satisfaction, we may (I emphasize MAY) be willing to provide those identities to you in the future, at a price to be negotiated at that time.

  “Once I have received your reply, I will provide you with contact information and the process you will use to deliver the deposit and finalize the contract. Take your time.

  “Sincerely, The – no, you don't need to know that.”

  After sending the email, the Instigator shut down his PC, took his glass of very expensive wine to his recliner, switched on the hi-def TV and settled in to watch the local news and weather. Once the sports segment began, he turned the TV off, sipped the last of his wine, rinsed the glass and headed up to bed.

  -98-

  Tuesday, March 13, 2012

  1:30 p.m.

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  via a 24-hour news channel

  Gordon Donne strode into the Press Room and directly to the podium, dressed casually, as usual.

  “My fellow Americans, members of the press, it's a pleasure to meet with you all again.

  “I'm sure you all know that February's jobs report, released on the 2nd, showed even better job growth than January had. We had a net gain of 613,000 jobs, even with the offset of 153,000 job losses in the federal government; that means the private sector added about 766,000 jobs in the month. Bravo!

  “Now, two reminders. First, the new national sales tax begins in about two weeks, so if you want to stock up on things before that goes into effect, now's the time. Word to the wise.

  “The other reminder has to do with the announcement I made last month of the corrupt proceeds clawback program. The deadline for taking advantage of the reduced penalties is April 3rd, about two weeks from today, and compliance has been, as we expected, only minimal. So if you have even the remotest idea that you might be on our list, you've got only two weeks before we start coming after you with the big penalties. Another word to the wise, okay?

  “And a big thank you and keep at it for all the investigative journalists whose ongoing efforts at unearthing corruption, current or historical, have helped us expand that list. Keep at it, guys and gals, okay? And thanks in advance for all your help.

  “Now, I'd like to read you a letter we received last week from a young girl in Topeka, Kansas. And here it is for you to follow along if you want to.” Donne pressed his tablet and a handwritten letter on yellow lined paper appeared on the TV screen on the wall.

  “'Dear Mr. Donne,' she begins, 'My name is Melinda Galt (no relation; my mom made me put that in, I don't know why) and I am twelve years old. I live in Topeka, Kansas, with my mom; my dad left us when I was four or five, I think. My mom has a pretty good job at a company that makes a lot of plastic things for furniture.

  “When I was eight, she opened a checking account for me, with her being the bank and using some checks and a check register (my mom helped me with that word) from an account she had closed.

  “'Each week, when she gave me my allowance, she would give me a quarter of it in real cash money, and I could do whatever I wanted to with that. The other three quarters she put in the checking account and told me that that was for me to save for things I
might want to buy later on.

  “'When I opened my lemonade stand, we did the same thing with the money I earned from that; a fourth to me, three-fourths into the checking account. Sometimes I spent my share right away, but sometimes I gave some of it back to Mom to put in the account.

  “'When I was nine, I used some of that money to buy a bike I wanted, and now I'm saving to buy a motorcycle when I get my driver's license.

  “'I think I learned a lot from doing this with my mom, and I think you should make everybody in the whole country do that so their kids learn about saving money for later and only spending part of it now.

  “'I keep hearing on the news and in current events programs at school that my country has a big problem with a debt of some kind. So I'm putting a check for ten dollars in with this letter to do a little bit to help with that. I know it's not much, but I wanted to do something to help.

  “'Sincerely, Melinda Galt.'

  “And here's the check she enclosed.” Donne held up a check, covering the magnetic codes with his index finger.

  “Melinda, if you're watching, first of all I want to thank you for sending your letter. It was inspiring to me to hear from you. I will be sending your check back to you, though, in part because we can't deposit it because the account is closed, and in part, the bigger part, because I want you to keep your money and keep saving for that motorcycle you want; maybe you can use that ten dollars to help pay for a safety helmet, okay?

  “And, Melinda, I would love to order everybody to do for their kids what your mom did for you, but I can't do that. I can, however, put on my bully pulpit hat and encourage everybody to follow Melinda's mom's example and teach your kids about personal finance as soon as they're able to understand the idea.

  “What I CAN order … and I've done it with Directive Number 514, which I signed this morning … is that all schools include a module on personal finance in the sixth, eighth, tenth and twelfth grades. We've got free age-appropriate sample modules, with rubrics and tons of supporting materials, on our __________.gov web site; just click the link for 'Education,' then the one for 'Personal Finance' in the list on that page, and you can view or download those modules. They're set up for teachers of any subject to use and understand, so you won't need to hire special teachers to implement them. Parents, you're welcome to get those, as well; again, free.