“Bailouts?” Colin said.
“No…not bailouts…loans.” Larry let it rest. Everyone in the room knew exactly what had been said—it was essential to play them as loans that would be repaid, unless one was going to let the big banks fail.
“What about letting them fail?” Katrina finally asked.
“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, Colin,” the sage Larry said. “Congress will get a bill about the loans, but we are concerned more with the media queries now with Super Tuesday round the corner. You must criticize the administration for letting this happen and reluctantly agree to the loans…very reluctantly, but make sure that—”
“It doesn’t happen again,” Colin said. “Hey, it gives us an opportunity to once and for all get Wall Street under our complete control.”
“Indeed…glorious, Mr. Spain, gloriously right.”
Meanwhile, a few hundred miles away, Uncle Frank was telling stories again, and little Jimmy was listening, rapt with attention.
“Out on this little desolate island, Jimmy, there lived ninety-nine people. They all did something for a living. Someone went fishing, someone protected everyone from the wild animals, someone built houses, and so on. Every evening, they used to gather in the island market and exchange things with each other…after all, if you landed a hundred fish in your net, you could hardly eat them all. All was well. Then one man started giving gold coins to others in return for getting something, like fish or clothes or whatever. They had no refrigerators, and the fish needed to be sold quickly, so the angler would come home with three fish to feed his family and a whole lot of gold coins, which they then used over the rest of the week to buy other stuff they needed.
“All was still well until a hundredth man showed up. He told them they could exchange everything for pieces of paper instead of gold. For a while, the man gave gold for paper when asked to. Then he stopped, but people trusted the paper that they exchanged since the paper could be used on the nearby mainland to buy stuff.
“Then one day they found out the man was cheating. He had never done a single day’s work. He never went fishing or built huts or shoes or even told jokes. He just used to turn up with bits of paper that he already had lots of, which he had brought over from the mainland. He had bought a whole lot of things for paper, and then he disappeared.
“The poor islanders rushed over to the mainland in a boat. They found out that the pieces of paper the man gave them were useless. They had given away what they worked hard for, with nothing in return. When they came back, this cheating man was still nowhere to be found. He had run away with a lot of shoes, gold, weapons, ornaments, clothes, and all the wonderful things the islanders had made.”
“Was he a thief?”
“Yes, but rather than rob people, he tricked people.”
“What was his name, this man who never worked?”
“They used to call him Uncle Sam.”
“Did they ever catch him?”
“No, they are still trying to.”
“I hope they catch him.”
“I hope so too, Jimmy.”
21
Medical Bankruptcy
Gary Allen looked back several times to make sure he was not being followed. Since the near-accident following the threats, he had become paranoid. Having recovered his car from his mechanic friend, he always left it in his garage and drove around in the family wagon whenever he could, just in case.
Parking the X99 as close to the pub as he could, he swiftly got out of the car and went inside, wearing a hat over his thick overcoat and, oddly enough, sunglasses even though the sun had long since set.
Making his way to the crowded bar, he was surprised to see that his childhood friend, Dr. Jules Bing, had already arrived.
Jules looked tense. Jules was the same age as Gary, just older by a few months, and the two had gelled together at high school, pulled together as much by their lack of jock interests as common hobbies. Jules was very skinny and very tall. Stooping, gangly, and wearing thick glasses with receding light-colored hair, Jules looked every bit the school nerd who never quite made it to the world of adulthood and confidence.
“Hey,” Gary said, wondering whether Jules needed even more reassurance than he did. Gary had mentioned he was having troubles, and the quickness with which Jules wanted to arrange a meeting suggested it was going to be a two-way conversation.
“Vodka and lime,” Jules said in response to Gary’s curious look at his glass. “Sorry, I didn’t wait, will you have your usual?” Jules was turning toward an attractive bartender when Gary stopped him. “No, just a beer.”
“You first,” Jules said after they had exchanged the usual pleasantries.
Gary looked around, decided to move, and found a less crowded spot.
No words had been exchanged when Jules said, “It’s Olivia, isn’t it? You are the house husband now.”
“No, no…I mean it is Olivia, but not the house husband bit.”
Jules didn’t miss a beat when Gary said, “My marriage is over…I think.” Among all their friends and schoolmates, Gary and Olivia were the perfect couple: sharing interests, fond of children, laughing at the same jokes after years of being together, and walking down the shopping mall holding hands after fifteen years of marriage—and here was Jules, almost expecting it.
“What does she think?” Jules asked.
“She doesn’t know.”
Jules’ eyebrows shot over his gold-rimmed glasses.
“Not yet, I mean,” Gary said.
“So she thinks she is still in a perfect marriage?”
“I am not sure what she thinks anymore.”
“So how do you know?”
“I…” Gary hesitated. “I…”
“Met someone else,” Jules finished his sentence. “Young, pretty…the usual.”
“What do you mean, the usual?”
“Don’t be hasty. She may not stay, the young one…”
“It’s not her; it’s been over for a long time before that…”
“So they say—”
“Hey.”
“Well, shouldn’t you at least try counseling?”
“She is on the road a lot.”
“Of course…actually, that’s related to what I wanted to talk about.”
“Go.”
“No, you finish.”
By the time Gary finished, he had consumed four beers and was in no condition to drive. Jules listened carefully as Gary spelt out the threats, the stalking, and the incident on the way to the Potomac Trail.
“The campaign,” Jules said finally. “You think you have to lie low till it…”
“You think it could—”
“Possible. You can’t talk to her or talk with the cops…but I have a solution.”
“Yeah?”
“A private eye. There’s this guy I know—”
“I don’t think so,” Gary said.
“It’s your life, Gary…you need to confront the truth. It means you need to meet her again…planned.”
“The same café maybe, near the design school?”
“That could work.” Jules smiled.
“What’s with you, buddy?” Gary asked after he had agreed to hire a private eye.
“I’m quitting.”
“Quitting?”
“Quitting medicine. Retiring…sort of, I don’t have enough to retire on. I’ll have to do some commercial fishing, up in the lakes.”
“But you always loved it.”
“I still do. But between the constantly decreasing Medicare payouts, increasing costs of litigation insurance, the bureaucrats second-guessing every decision at every turn, and the monumental amount of paperwork, it’s just impossible.”
“I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re in bigger trouble.”
“There is something else, isn’t it?”
“I’m being sued. I would never do this but…”
“Malpractice suit?”
“Yup
.”
“You will fight it?”
“Of course. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to find…”
“A bit of dirt,” Gary said.
“Ten, five, even a few years ago, this was unthinkable…above all, do no harm.”
“Well, maybe this patient deserves it.”
“You don’t even know the case,” Jules said.
“I know you. That’s enough for me. One more job for this…private eye?”
“I did everything I could for his wife. No kids. He got a new wife faster than you can say funeral—”
“But still wants a few hundred for grievous emotional distress.”
“Two million, and my insurer is IFG.”
“Oops…and you think I’m in bigger trouble?” Gary managed a smile.
They talked till Jules finished a third vodka and lime.
“Hey,” Jules said as he staggered out of his chair, “nothing against your wife and all that, but man…that Frank Stein…I think he knows what he is talking about.”
“Yeah, I think so too…hey, don’t drive. We’re in enough hot water already. We can share a cab, I’ll drop you off.”
Gary felt better than he had in weeks.
22
The Prelude to Super Tuesday
New York, Pennsylvania, and most of the West formed the 2020 election’s first twenty-four states for Super Tuesday. The traverse included six blue states—New York, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Rhode Island, and Connecticut in the northeast—as well as the four purple states of West Virginia, Colorado, Arkansas, and Nevada, plus New Mexico, Washington, Illinois, and Wisconsin. Then there were ten republican states comprising Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Nebraska, and Kansas in the north and the Midwest, and the Republican strongholds of Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Georgia, and Virginia.
Olivia was liberally popping sleeping pills, amphetamines and Valiums. As if the intensive travel was not a killer in itself, the problems besetting America had just magnified substantially.
Rumors of a liquidity crisis at International Financial Group and Sixth National Bank began to swirl and caused a bank run in California. This rapidly began to spread across the United States. The Federal Reserve stepped in with a loan. Olivia’s sources told her that the amount was not going to be enough. Larry agreed.
There were confirmed reports and GSAT footage of skirmishes on the Iranian border with Turkmenistan throughout March. Then Iran’s Hassan Nader dropped a bombshell. He made a public release that Iran was considering all options, including nuclear, unless Turkmenistan stopped supporting Iranian rebels. Imran Sharif, the leader of the rebels, vowed to fight on and appealed to the world community to give military aid. In an unprecedented move, Sharif also appealed directly to Israel to bomb his home country’s nuclear plant.
Immediately, the administration publicly condemned Israel before the Israelis even had the opportunity to consider this option. Yet Larry found out that the administration had privately discussed with CIA operatives whether to encourage Israel to do just what Sharif suggested.
Rumors that IFG and Sixth National Bank were in financial trouble thickened. A run on the Sixth National first began on the West Coast, in Portland, Oregon, before spreading to Los Angeles and then to San Francisco.
The Federal Reserve, led by the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco, acted decisively. Sixth and IFG were asked to issue certificates of deposit in the hundreds of millions each, and the Federal Reserve itself secured over 90 percent of it in a tender. The 90 percent was disguised, as the Fed acted via other banks acting as intermediaries. The taxpayers had effectively loaned over one hundred billion dollars to IFG and Sixth National, and no one, not even Capitol Hill or Congress, knew about it. Larry Fox found out, but what amazed Olivia even more was that Colin decided not to air it. There’s more to learn for me, but wasn’t I going to be the voice of the people? Olivia thought to herself.
The week before Super Tuesday, rebels camped in northern Syria managed to bomb numerous critical targets: airport terminals, runways, shipyards, power stations, bridges, and dams. There was no mistaking that Syria was experiencing civil unrest of unprecedented proportions.
Quentin Kirby had to yet again suspend his campaign and fly to Washington for an urgent Cabinet meeting. President Young ordered a surge of ten thousand new troops to Syria. Colin attacked the administration, but only over logistical details and tactics. In the campaign room, Olivia’s attempts to broach the fundamental issue of participation in the war were stonewalled. No, it can’t just be a show, surely? She continued her inquiry.
Violence had escalated in most towns and cities across the length and breadth of the U.S. Citizens were afraid to step out after dark. There was not a soul within the 330 million people in the United States who was not worried. Talk radio shows started suggesting the imposition of martial law.
Amidst this climate of fear and discontent, some citizens duly proceeded to the polls to cast their votes across the Super Tuesday states.
The Americans First Employment Bill received overwhelming support from both chambers of Congress. Multinational corporations urged President Young to veto the bill, but to no avail; a week later, President Young signed it into law.
23
The Commandment of Temperance
Warren Medley, head of news programming and current affairs at the powerful NBN, called for Justin Flannery.
“Mornin’, Warren,” Justin said. He was in a chirpy mood as he walked into Warren’s office.
“Morning. Coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Justin’s back was turned as he poured himself a coffee in Warren’s office overlooking east Manhattan. Warren was solemn.
“You gotta play by the rules, Justin.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Justin turned, leaving the coffee and his chirpy mood behind him.
“I did…just don’t get what you mean.”
“The White House called. The press secretary herself…”
“Well, Miss Coleman is getting worked up about nothing in particular—”
“It wasn’t just the tomatoes, that was bad enough—”
“We didn’t throw them.”
“You might as well have, the way we covered it.”
“There’s more?”
“You bet. Cancel the Stein interview. You did him last summer.”
“But that was about his Alpha Corporation. He wasn’t running for president then.”
“I said cancel it.”
“It’s too late, Warren, the ads have already aired.”
“So?”
“So? It’ll look like the White House forced us pull it. In fact, I’m sure Stein will go on Twitter or something and say so himself.”
“True. Maybe we can play this another way.”
Justin Flannery looked at Warren Medley quizzically.
“Ask him about his past, his social life, girlfriends, hobbies—”
“No way. No fuckin’ way. No, that’s a cop-out, Warren, and you know it.”
“Our female audience will like the personal touch.”
“It won’t work. Look, I know he has irritated the White House. But he is generating a lot of interest.”
“Let’s hope to God that Kirby doesn’t win,” Warren said.
“He won’t, look at the economy.”
“What…you think this Stein guy is actually going to win?”
“No, Warren…I think Spain is a shoo-in; Stein’s the circus act we can’t afford to miss. He’s great for ratings.”
“Spain doesn’t like him either. His reaction could be worse, in fact.”
“But he hasn’t told us about it, has he?”
“No,” Warren conceded.
“So?”
“All right. But be careful. Call his statements inflammatory rhetoric…”
“Don’t you think that would be—”
“You know the routine.”
“All right, Warren
. I won’t disappoint you.”
“Like I said, be careful. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
When Justin Flannery left Warren Medley’s office, being careful was the furthest from his mind. He very much planned on asking Frank Stein exactly the most inflammatory questions America wanted him to answer.
“The United States should exercise more self-control and restraint,” Stein said in the first ten minutes of the show going live.
Warren Medley sat back, watching the live feed in his office, almost chewing his cigar off. He hated going live. He was so sure that Emma Coleman’s offer of an exclusive on President Young’s health update was gone that he had kissed it good-bye without even daring to remind her of her promise.
“We have followed an irrational foreign policy for seven decades following WW II,” Stein said, “a ridiculous policy of defining as good just about anything or anybody that was against communism: gang leaders, tribal chiefs, cannibals, paranoid dictators, unelected monarchs.” Stein noticed that Flannery was smiling.
“So the world looks at us with suspicion when we say we will spill blood…American blood if necessary, to help countries achieve democracy. As if democracy in itself was a value. If it was, why did the CIA overthrow a democratically elected secular government in Iran in 1953 only to instill the Shah, a dictator? No answers were given to the public.
“Now the new definition of good, in the post–Cold War phase, is that democracy needs to be fostered no matter what principles elected officials cherish. Terrorism is the new scare campaign. Just about any overseas action is defended on the basis that it is needed to constrain terrorism. Any temperance is deemed to be giving in to the forces of terrorism.”
Justin Flannery thought he had what he wanted.
“So would you actually withdraw U.S. forces from overseas immediately?”
“In most cases, yes. Iraq, certainly yes, including the many who are still there training their forces. Japan, yes. Qatar, yes. Bahrain, yes. Afghanistan, yes. Pakistan zones, most urgently yes. We better get out of Syria before it becomes yet another Iraq.”
The Frankenstein Candidate Page 13
