by David Hearne
The waitress came back to our table and wanted to know if we needed refills, and if our friends were still on their way. Katherine assured her that they were, and took the waitress up on new drinks. As she stepped away from our table Kat asked her if they served the soda Moxie. The waitress gave Kat a sad look and said, “No, but it is available at the local stores.”
I smiled at Katherine as I wiped grilled onions off my lips. I remembered vividly her story of Hulagu. I also remembered drinking bottles of Moxie when I was a kid. Katherine flipped out her cell phone and called her aide who was still waiting in her car, and asked him to cruise around town to the local grocery stores to see if he could buy a case or two of M O X I E. Her sedan backed out of the parking place and merged into the Rockingham street traffic.
Katherine smiled at me and said, “I wanted to keep him busy, and I really do want to introduce Moxie to friends back in Texas and Washington. Most of the country has never tasted it.”
Katherine returned to her views on Iraq. “I think making Iraq a friendlier country to the US will deter worldwide terrorism in the long run. Many will disagree with me, but we have to help make things better for these people who have been taught to hate us. We have to give them a reason to like us. The youth in these fanatical tribes and clans in Iraq love our technology, music, big cars, and modernization. This stuff is as mesmerizing to them, as it is to our kids. The youth of Iraq should be our target. The radical Islamists target them to use for their cause as Mujahideen or suicide bombers, so we must offer them an alternative, something better. If we do not we will end up with millions of walking suicide bombers in our midst.”
“So, it is not a quick fix for Iraq that you have in store?”
“No, but it will be a very new beginning without all the bloodshed that our present direction ensures. Right now we have an elusive enemy that is as difficult to fight as my chance of winning the Power Ball. Many here in the states do not even admit that terrorism exists or poses a threat. It is like the mentality of someone with cancer when they refuse to accept that they have it. We cannot win an insidious war by avoiding the battles. Fighting a virtually invisible enemy is very difficult. They are so secretive that the names of their members are hidden, even from other associates. It will be a damn hard job. And, Islamic terrorists are even a threat to individuals like Saddam Hussein. So, making peace with Iraq will free up more resources to fight them, and perhaps even align another ally in fighting these maniacal barbarians.”
“If our plans succeed, I will announce my candidacy, and I will be in a very powerful position to win the election. I also have one more major plank in my platform that is equally as controversial and will surely make me many enemies.”
She let me hang for a minute as she took a long drink and slowly put the glass back down. “So what is this other thing?” I asked.
“I want to get rid of the Federal Income tax and replace the whole cumbersome system with a National Sales Tax modeled after the one proposed by the National Retail Sales Tax Alliance. This will help millions of Americans and make paying taxes effortless. The government will receive taxes from anybody who spends a dime in our country. It will eliminate tons of regulations and everyone will be easily taxed. Aliens, drug dealers, visiting foreigners, prostitutes, gamblers, and basically anyone spending money will be taxed accordingly. A higher sales tax will be levied against luxury items and rebates given to those who are living on social security or under a certain income level. It will cost us much less to maintain and be fairer to all. However, lawyers, accountants and IRS agents will hate it.”
“How much will that add to everything we buy?” I asked.
“It probably will be around fourteen to 17 percent. At first glance that might sound high to you, but remember, no federal tax will be taken out of your pay, so your check will be much higher. Once we determine how much money we can save by eliminating the cost of existing compliance issues, we can adjust the rate. Right now it is estimated that $300,000,000 is spent by the IRS for purely collection expenses and compliance issues. That is a tremendous waste of tax paper’s money.”
“Well, if you win, it will be like a revolution here in America,” I remarked.
“Oh yes, this will be a major change. It is not the first time it has been proposed, but it will be the first time it becomes part of an election campaign. A lot of congressmen support it. Big names like John Linder, Billy Tauzin, Collin Peterson, Max Baucus, Dr. Alan Keyes and a host of others sponsor the Fair Tax proposal. But I am not going to be able to make this work if I fail in my Iraq mission.”
“You will do great!” I offered.
“Please don’t patronize me. I won’t stand a chance in hell to win this election if I cannot demonstrate I am as tough as a man when dealing with tyrants like Saddam. It is a perception thing. With our war on terrorism and this decade old standoff with Iraq, I have to show I am a leader strong enough to deal with national security issues.”
“Seriously Kat, I am not patronizing you. When we were kids you were the toughest of all of us. We all looked up to you, and we still do. Look at you, a Senator from Texas, and that in itself demands respect. People will see you as a force that has to be taken seriously.”
“I hope you are right. I will be up against a pretty strong incumbent for the primary. And if I win that, I will be up against some very seasoned tough Democrats. I need to get the women’s vote, and believe it or not, they are the hardest votes for me to win. The majority of women vote for men. They vote for the handsome guy, or it is just some old patriarchal culture ingrained into our female subconscious. I still have some very high hurdles to jump.”
“You think women have a little of the Stepford Wives syndrome when it comes to voting?”
Kat smiled and retorted, “Not just a little, a whole lot. Unfortunately, women the world over easily succumb to the idea that they are inferior. Look at what happened in Afghanistan and even now in the Sudan. You have women who are treated no better than farm animals in those countries, yet they make no real effort to change their position in life. Many will even tell you that it is the way it is supposed to be, and that they are content living as chattel. It is maddening to me.”
I didn’t really know what to say to all of that and for a moment there was an uncomfortable silence between us.
Kat broke the silence, “Dealing with Saddam is a huge challenge to me. This guy has outlasted three of our Presidents in this stand off so far. I think anyone with any knowledge of him would agree that he is cunning, charismatic, and megalomaniacal. He is a legendary figure, regardless of the evil we see in him. Without him, Iraq would probably still be a hellhole of warring tribes, clans, and feuding religions. Iraq had been in a virtual coma since Hulagu’s beating centuries ago, and I have to give Hussein credit for reviving it. With his Stalin like brutality and iron determination, he pulled these Dark Age feuding factions together again and turned Iraq into the center of the Arab World. He amassed a huge army to retain control and protect his people from the next Hulagu.”
“I take it, he considers us the next Hulagu?”
“Absolutely, Saddam refers to the United States as the ‘new Hulagu.’ He also makes sure that all are reminded of the many biblical experts who believe Iraq was the location of the fabled Garden of Eden, the birthplace of Adam and Eve. That is why he refers to Iraq as the ‘mother of civilization.’ A famous quote from one of his speeches is: “It is the mother of civilization of Iraq, which Hulagu of this age wants to attack. So, tell him in a clear, loud voice, ‘Oh, evil, cease your evil doings against the mother of civilization.’”
Once more our cute waitress interrupted us, and convinced me to try another dessert. Kat decided on the same.
Katherine had another observation she wanted to share with me. She told me the story of Gilgamesh, the fabled king of Uruk Iraq who ruled that city approximately 4700 years ago. He was said to have had a dream that was described in Tablet 4 of the story of Gilgamesh, and it went as follow
s:
The skies roared with thunder and the earth heaved,
Then came darkness and a stillness like death.
Lightening smashed the ground and fires blazed out;
Death flooded from the skies.
When the heat died and the fires went out,
The plains had turned to ash.
“Gilgamesh’s friend Enkidu would often interpret these dreams. This particular interpretation is missing from the ancient tablets. Most believe that Enkidu, like most political hacks, would have put a positive spin on this dream for his boss like he did on the other dreams, but was this dream perhaps more?”
Katherine leaned over the red Formica table with a mouth full of apple pie and asked me seriously. “Was this the vision of today’s modern warfare at the gates of the cradle of civilization? Is this the Hulagu of Saddam Hussein speeches? Or is Saddam Hussein the incarnation of Hulagu’s spirit, which has arisen again to continue the slaughter of the Iraqis?”
She leaned back into her seat, and I could sense that Senator Laforge was looking at me for some sort of reaction to her last question. I looked at her and said. “Hell Katherine, I have no idea. I certainly do not understand what Hulagu of old has to do with today at all. It sounds to me like just another way to complicate, or to legitimize or to give some brutal tyrant a reason to be who he has demonstrated himself to be.”
Out of the diner window, I could see Katherine’s sedan returning to the parking lot and resuming its old position again.
Katherine asked the waitress for the bill and to make those other hamburgers ‘to go’. She locked her eyes on mine and said, “You are basically right. Hulagu of the past has little to do with today, but we do have a new Hulagu that Saddam Hussein will soon meet, and the new Hulagu will be the savior of Iraq.”
Katherine reached down, grabbed her cup and finished her coffee.
I was not sure what she meant by her last statement, but I could sense we were about to end our meeting. I asked, “What do you want me to do for you?”
Senator Laforge replied, “You have already started doing it. Just being my friend and someone I can safely confide in. I am beginning to know so much about things. For my own safety, I want others to know what I know. I want others to be aware. So, what we are doing now is basically all I really need you to do for me. Hopefully, I can repay you big in the future for this favor. In the meantime, I want you to have this as a reminder of our conversation.”
She handed me a small plastic container displaying an old worn coin of some sort. On the case was a label that read “Ilkhanids, Hulagu 654-663 AH.”
She said, “This is a 700 year old coin. It is not worth much today, but keep it and someday it may become very valuable. You know I am still a big coin collector, and I thought a Hulagu coin would be very appropriate for our conversation today.”
I thanked her for the gift and told her that I thought I understood what she wanted, and I was glad to be there for her. We shook hands and Kat told me that she would like us to leave separately. She motioned to the waitress to bring me one more cup of coffee, and left a $20 tip on the table.
Our meeting was over.
I still had little idea of what, if anything, I was involved in, but had enjoyed the conversation with my old friend, Kat. I had the feeling that the reason for our visit was something like the old Czech proverb that stated: ‘Do not protect yourself by a fence, but rather by your friends.’
I looked out the window and watched Kat drive away. The motorcycle guy and his lady friend were paying up and heading out also. I looked at his arm covered with tattoos, and suddenly he turned his head towards me, as if he had felt my stare. I glanced away from him and locked my eyes on the paper in front of me, but I could still feel his eyes glaring at me. A rush of adrenaline surged through me as I avoided looking at him. Then I heard the sound of the motorcycle, as it roared down Rockingham in the same direction Kat had just taken. With all the thoughts that were churning in my head from talking with Kat, I was probably thinking a bit schizoid, but a weird unease from his presence lingered within me as I sat there toying with my Hulagu coin.
* * * *
The sound of Stacie’s voice ended my interlude into the past. The shower door opened and she stepped into the steamy cubicle.
“I hope you do not mind sharing the shower, but you are using up all the hot water.” She said through the thick moist air.
I felt her cool firm breast press refreshingly up against my back as I welcomed her, “Please join me, honey, I need some distraction.”
Her hands reached up to my hair, and I felt her squirt shampoo on it. She ran her fingers lightly through the shampoo in my wet hair, working it up to a thick lather.
With a soft sponge from the shower rack, she began to spread shower gel over my shoulders and down my back all the way to my buttocks.
A swirl of heat ignited in the pit of my stomach, as I felt Stacie’s small pink tongue flickering down the small of my back. A rush of hot water crashed over my head as she lovingly slid her hands around my waist. I was now completely distracted.
“Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully
as when they do it from religious conviction.”
~ Blaise Pascal
Part THREE
The Accident
Prophet, make war on the unbelievers and the hypocrites and
deal rigorously with them. Hell shall be their Home: an evil fate.
~ at-Taubah 9:73
With steaming cups of coffee in hand, Stacie, and I walked through the attached barn to our unheated garage. My breath fogged in the chilly January air as I pressed the red button on the garage door remote. The morning quiet was broken by the sounds of ice and snow popping off the garage door as it noisily retreated into the ceiling. I was dressed in a warm parka, but still shivered as the icy morning air hit my face. Outside the wind blew and snow floated lazily to the ground. It was a light snow flurry, much less than had fallen during the night, but it still added to the three inches of fresh snow covering the driveway. A foot high mound of snow and slush deposited earlier by a snowplow sealed the exit. Beyond the driveway, headlights pierced the darkness, and I heard the crunch of tires on snow as a car passed slowly in front of our house. Other people were already up, heading to the town hall.
I opened the car door and mentally prepared myself for the harsh coldness of the leather seat. Quickly, I dropped myself behind the steering wheel. My teeth began to chatter from the hard cold inside the car. I pumped the gas, turned the key and a plume of condensation enveloped the rear of the vehicle. The windshield was iced up from the slush left on it from the previous night’s visit with Senator Laforge, so I switched on the defroster. We both sat in the car as the motor slowly warmed up. I reclined in the driver’s seat, and hugged myself for warmth while Stacie huddled next to me, with a scarf over her nose, already red from the cold.
When the car idled smoothly, I turned on the headlights and prepared for that lunge into our snowy driveway. Twin jets of water sprayed onto the dirty windshield as the wipers slapped the grime and ice away from my view. Peering through the streaked and fogged windshield, I searched for headlights on the road in front of our house. Convinced that no cars were approaching, I gunned the engine to make sure it would not stall. Then, pressing down on the gas pedal, I gripped my steering wheel and propelled the car out onto the driveway. The momentum of the car let me easily maneuver down the driveway and burst through the foot tall barrier of snow at its end. As the front wheels cleared the pile, I spun the wheel to the right turning us onto the road. This was always the point where Stacie would yell that she would never ride with me again.
We drove over the railroad tracks, and just as we passed the old Elm’s Hotel building, we could see the headlights of the traffic moving aimlessly along Main Street in our little town of 4000. Cars were driving around the block, some with their windshields almost opaque from frozen slush. Senator Laforge’s visit had attracted many flatlander
s and news agencies. In fact, Main Street swarmed with the media army. Vans and satellite trucks from CNN, FOX, ABC, CBS and NBC were all parked along the street. This morning, the eyes and ears of the world were focused on Charlestown, NH.
As we neared Main Street, the weather came on the radio. “Residents of Keene New Hampshire awoke to ten degrees below zero weather. The cold snap was brought on by a fast-moving storm that blanketed the East Coast last evening with up to five inches of snow. The storm closed airports and some area roads. This nor’easter storm - drifted northward along the coast after forming when moist air from the Atlantic collided with the cold air over New England. The storm system will affect Maine later this morning. A chance of more snow, sleet or freezing rain is forecasted for across the region for Monday and Tuesday.”
“Late breaking news: New Hampshire State Police have closed the section of Route 12 where Senator Laforge’s Campaign Bus was found stalled in a snow bank. All traffic going north or south between Walpole and Charlestown, New Hampshire is being rerouted to Route 5 on the west side of the Connecticut river. Chief Richardson from the Charlestown Fire Department stated that multiple bodies have been found at the grizzly scene. Bodies have been found in the bus and in the snow surrounding the bus. The campaign bus had been hit multiple times by bullets and possibly explosives. It is still unknown who is responsible for this brazen attack or the reason behind it. Stay tuned for further updates.”
