by Ed Gorman
Table of Contents
Cover
A Selection of Titles by Ed Gorman
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Part Two
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Part Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
A Selection of Titles by Ed Gorman
The Dev Conrad Series
SLEEPING DOGS
STRANGLEHOLD
BLINDSIDE *
FLASHPOINT *
ELIMINATION *
The Sam McCain Series
THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED
WAKE UP LITTLE SUSIE
WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME TOMORROW?
SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME
EVERYBODY’S SOMEBODY’S FOOL
BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO
FOOLS RUSH IN
TICKET TO RIDE
BAD MOON RISING
* available from Severn House
ELIMINATION
Ed Gorman
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
This first world edition published 2015
in Great Britain and the USA by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of
19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.
Trade paperback edition first published 2015 in Great
Britain and the USA by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.
eBook edition first published in 2015 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited
Copyright © 2015 by Ed Gorman.
The right of Ed Gorman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Gorman, Edward author.
Elimination. – (The Dev Conrad series)
1. Conrad, Dev (Fictitious character)–Fiction.
2. Political consultants–United States–Fiction.
3. Politicians–Assassination attempts–Fiction.
4. Suspense fiction.
I. Title II. Series
813.5’4-dc23
ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8466-4 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-595-7 (trade paper)
ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-646-5 (e-book)
Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
This ebook produced by
Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,
Stirlingshire, Scotland.
To my longtime friend and agent, Dominick Abel
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my sweet and hilarious first editor Linda Siebels, one of the finest people I’ve ever known.
Thanks to all the organizations dedicated to keeping all of us with the incurable cancer multiple myeloma alive as long as possible. Thank you, my friends.
There was one of them that scared Dave.
The one who was always talking about Lee Harvey Oswald and the guy who popped Martin Luther King.
What that would’ve been like.
The balls that would’ve taken.
Dave agreed with a lot of what the other ones talked about. How all the minorities got privileges the whites didn’t. How the fags were making a mockery of normal life. How the things they were teaching in school were making gullible kids ashamed of their country and its history.
But actually assassinating somebody …
Cindy hated his friends enough already. If she ever heard them talking about that kind of thing …
So it was kind of funny that he would be the one the man with the money would approach. The man who wondered if he could interest Dave in doing a certain kind of job …
PART ONE
ONE
They’re still out there.
‘You bitch. I hope somebody gives you a mastectomy the hard way.’
‘I’m watching you. Every single day I watch you. I own about a hundred of those guns you’re trying to take from patriots across this country.’
‘God is planning to make an example of you for how you’ve forced homos on our families. He has promised me that you’ll be dealt with within forty-eight hours.’
When Timothy McVeigh detonated a truck bomb, killing 168 people and injuring more than 600, I remember thinking maybe this country will come to its senses again. Move back to the center. Get together again without all the acrimony.
I was wrong. The militia movement McVeigh had championed had grown stronger than ever. The rhetoric had become bizarre, then clinically insane. Not that I disagreed with everything the far right said. I consider the massacre at Waco and the murders at Ruby Ridge reprehensible. Waco is a crime of historical proportions. Many government people should have gone to prison. Needless to say, though I work for the liberal party I don’t always agree with its conventional wisdom.
But what brought all this to mind were the emails I was reading on this rainy autumn afternoon in Danton, Illinois, population eighty thousand and home of Congresswoman Jessica Bradshaw, whose reelection campaign I was running. Her friends called her ‘Jess,’ and we’d begun to use that in some of our radio ads.
My name is Dev Conrad. I own Dev Conrad and Associates in Chicago, a political consulting firm. Previous to that I was in the army, serving as an investigator for several years. This election cycle my firm of fourteen people was running eight campaigns. We hired freelancers as we needed them.
I was in Danton because in the past three weeks we’d dropped three points in general polling and four in our own internals. We were now only one point ahead at best. The easy excuse was that our far-right opponent Trent Dorsey was reaping the rewards of having a fanatical billionaire uncle spending five times as much on TV attack ads as we were. I’d flown in early
that morning from Chicago at the request of the congresswoman’s chief staffer, Abby Malone.
‘Uncle Ken,’ as Dorsey always referred to him, had also hired a team of hit men who were experts at using automated phone calls – called robocalling – to smear opponents. You could reach thousands and thousands of voters this way in a single day. Robocalling became widely used after George W. Bush’s people started the rumor that John McCain, their opponent, just might be the father of an illegitimate black child. The phone calls were particularly effective in the South.
This district was being bombarded by robocalling, suggesting everything from Jess as Commie, Jess as lesbian, Jess as drug addict, and that Jess’s rich father had been mobbed up. Jess had won before because the man who’d held the seat ended up going to prison for taking bribes that unfortunately (for him) were videotaped by the state boys and girls. This time her run was different. We’d never faced a machine like Dorsey’s and anti-incumbency was a formidable platform this time.
Danton itself was a river town that was heavily leveraged by a gambling casino. It had been known for decades as the place where Al Capone had sent his soldiers when the feds were getting ready to move on them. Not much had changed. The law, police and judges alike almost always ruled in favor of the gambling establishment. Jess Bradshaw’s family had made their money in the stock market. They had not only survived the Depression, they had prospered from it. Everything was cheap, and if you had the money you could become unthinkably wealthy. Jess was an example of how wealthy. And she was typical of a Congress where sixty percent of its members were at least millionaires, if not much wealthier than that.
They’re still out there.
‘You have a lovely daughter. I wonder what her face will look like after I cut it up. One cut for every abortion you’ve made possible.’
‘Fun, huh?’
Abby Malone had once worked directly for my shop in Chicago. At that time she’d been married to a young attorney everybody liked. She spent part of her time in Danton keeping Jess’s constituency office running well and always preparing for the next election. Then one day she came into my office and announced she was getting divorced and would like to work for Jess directly. It would help her get over the end of her marriage. How could I say no? And having her there was probably a good idea anyway, even if it meant losing one of the finest employees I’d ever had, not to mention a world-class smart ass.
‘I read them every day,’ she said. ‘I never tell Jess about them. If they’re really bad I tell Ted. Some of them are so terrifying they’re funny in a strange way.’ In a simple red blouse and straight black skirt she was, to understate, compelling to see.
‘Yeah, like those two morons in Florida who sent ricin to the White House a few months ago. One of them was an unemployed Elvis impersonator and the other a taekwondo dude who was running for president.’
Her smile parted the heavens. She was one of those slight, efficient blondes whose comeliness almost distracts from her skills as a planner and organizer.
‘How’s the prep going?’
Abby had spent the past four days in a rented dance studio firing questions at Jessica in preparation for tonight’s televised debate. Given the polling numbers we were looking at, tonight’s debate had become damned consequential. Jessica had to respond to and overcome all the lies Uncle Ken’s money had been spreading for the last five months.
‘She’s good. So smart. I wish Ted was.’ She allowed a wry smile for Jess’s vainglorious husband. ‘God, he’s as narcissistic as a gigolo.’
‘I guess I hadn’t noticed that.’
‘Yeah, right. You hadn’t noticed. The old Dev Conrad deadpan. Cory told me he can’t tell when you’re joking sometimes.’
‘The intern?’
‘Yeah. He’s good. I like having him drive me places. Makes me feel like a movie star.’
Cory Tucker was a political science major at Danton University. He was an amiable twenty-year-old who considered politics to be a cool and desirable calling. He also admitted that with so many young female volunteers it offered the possibilities of frequent hook-ups.
Then she said, ‘Are you nervous about tonight?’
‘Very.’
‘Dorsey’s an idiot but he does well onstage.’ She checked the delicate silver watch on her delicate wrist. ‘Hey, lunchtime. You really scared me when you said you were scared.’
‘I didn’t say I was scared. I said I was nervous. Big difference.’
‘Well, whatever. So come on and have lunch with us.’
‘“Us” being?’
‘“Us” being me and Joel.’
‘Well, it’s tempting. I’m just so damned busy.’
‘There’s a very nice little restaurant about two blocks from here. And it’s “Take an Old Dude to Lunch Week.” I can find you a walker if you need one.’
‘The arrogance of youth. I’m forty-three.’
‘C’mon,’ she said, that slash of a smile always preceding a cynical remark. ‘You remember Joel. He’s always got really interesting bad news for us.’
And so he did.
TWO
I’d seen family photos of them when they were young. Ted and Joel Bradshaw. There was no doubt they were brothers – they were virtual twins. And poor ones at that, growing up in a tiny white-frame house in New Hampshire, their mother working in a laundry and their father a philandering husband who stopped in occasionally between his benders and his shack jobs. But even then Ted stood tall and straight while Joel slouched. As a teenager Joel had been put in a psychiatric hospital for depression. The county had had to pick up the tab, he’d once told me, making his situation all the more humiliating.
I thought of the photographs as I saw him walk toward our booth. He was an impeccable dresser, a man who preferred good suits and shirts and ties to any other kind of attire. And though he’d gotten even better looking as he’d gotten older, he walked with his head down and still had the slouch. I always feel sorry for the very obese ones, the crippled ones and the deformed ones who have to cross streets in full view of cars waiting for the light to change. Many of them keep their heads down. They know they’re being judged and all too often found to be creatures of amusement or contempt.
‘Here’s a nice surprise. Great to see you, Dev. Sorry I’m late.’
‘Hey, Joel, it’s great to see you, too.’ Abby overdid it but that temptation was always there with Joel. You just wanted him to feel better about himself. All the millions of assholes in the world and here was a decent if troubled man who couldn’t seem to muster the least respect for himself.
He sat next to Abby and nodded to me. ‘I’m sure glad you’re in town, Dev. We really need help. I’ve been crunching all the numbers three times a day.’
He really did enjoy bad news. There was so little good news in his life, apparently, that his only succor was drawing energy from the bad.
I said, ‘It’s not over yet, Joel.’ He always made me sound like a cheerleader.
To the waitress, he said, ‘Steak sandwich and Diet Pepsi, please.’
‘Dorsey’s not a very good debater,’ I said. ‘I think Jess can turn everything around.’
‘I’ve never seen her this scared before a debate and she’s been in a lot of them. She knows what’s on the line. It’s never been this close before.’
And that was true. While Jess had never won with runaway numbers she’d always ended up with a two- or three-point win.
‘Isn’t Ted giving her his usual pep talk?’
Joel touched Abby’s hand. Sometimes when I saw them together I wondered if Joel had a crush on her.
‘He’s trying. But it doesn’t seem to be working. And I’m not sure he’s giving her the right advice. He’s back on the “maternal” kick again.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Him and his “maternal” bit. He finally got us to try it in one debate last election cycle – she got pilloried by the press and we went down two points.’
‘I love
my brother but you know how he is when he gets an idea in his head. You really need to talk to Jess. Katherine flew in from college to be with her for good luck.’ A wan expression came over his face as he said, ‘Poor Katherine. I wish she’d meet somebody. She’s always gotten these painful crushes on older men. I think she has a bit of a one on you now, Dev. Jess was always trying to get her interested in boys her own age. But instead she’d fall in love with the UPS guy or somebody who was working around the house.’
‘That’s sad,’ Abby said, ‘but maybe she’s just compensating for neither of her folks being around very much. We thought of putting her on the campaign trail about five years ago but we could never be sure what she was going to say. That’s when I got to be her sounding board. She was a really lonely kid.’
‘I still think she could be an asset on the campaign trail.’ The only time Joel sounded as if he had the right to speak was when he talked about working on his sister-in-law’s campaign. In the D.C. office he was numero uno traffic manager. He had this ability to keep things moving. If somebody was a half hour late with a report Joel was standing at his desk. He had this enormous chart on his wall that he, along with most of the people in the office, called the Bible. He knew where everybody was for most of their twelve-hour days. What they were – or should be – doing. And if they needed him to stand at their desk or track them down by phone, so they could get their work done.
