“Mike,” I said, “I know you like to be specific, so please do so.”
Mike put down his coffee and leaned in toward us.
“Both Gallup and Zogby asked a popular question, one that always gets a lot of press attention. They asked basically the same thing—who is the ‘most influential man in the country?’ 87 percent said Bartholomew Martin. The next closest was President Reynolds at 79 percent.
When the Gallup people asked ‘what is the most influential group in the country?’ 90 percent said the NFL. Yes, the people being polled knew about the NFL, and the pollsters made sure not to confuse the question with the football league. And check this out. When asked about the most critical problem facing America, 80 percent—almost the identical number in both polls—said that radical Islamic terror was the answer, ahead of the economy and unemployment. The NFL is selling, and the American public is buying. The NFL public relations machine has been pumping out a steady drumbeat, reminding the American public that they are the people who are putting a stop to the terror of radical Islam, and that the days of the jihadis are Not For Long. And the public, if we just look at those two polls, is listening.”
“But Mike,” I said, “those are just polls. Polls change all the time. Is there anything more that bothers you?”
Mike rubbed his face with both hands. He looked like a guy who was about to say something he’d rather not. He took a sip of coffee.
“What I’m about to tell you hasn’t been made public yet. I got this information from my inside people. Bartholomew and his NFL have set up political organizations in all 50 states, including large paid operations in the big electoral states like California and Florida. For some reason, the press hasn’t caught on to this yet, or maybe they don’t think it’s important. These political organizations are not Democrat or Republican. It’s a third-party operation, called The Freedom from Terror Party.”
“I have a quiz for you guys,” Dee said. “What did Hitler and Mussolini have in common?”
We both looked at her and shook our heads.
“They both rose to office legally, not by a coup. Hitler was appointed chancellor of Germany by President von Hindenburg, and Mussolini took office by a democratic election. We know what happened later—totalitarian dictatorships and war.”
“Mike, your thoughts on what Diana just said?”
“Bartholomew Martin is preparing to become the first American dictator.”
Chapter 50
Dee and I had breakfast at a café near my new government office on Michigan Avenue. We didn’t sleep well after our meeting with Imam Mike. Dee’s cell phone buzzed.
“It’s Suzie Cohen, Matt, I better take it.” Suzie, Dee’s literary agent, seldom called early in the morning, so it must have been important.
“Wow,” Dee said. “Oh my God. Who’s the buyer?”
Dee’s normally bright face went pale. She hung up the call.
“Witherspoon Publishing has been sold, Matt. The second largest publisher in the country, and it just sold for $10 billion.”
“Witherspoon publishes a lot of your books, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do, about 90 percent of my books.”
“So what’s wrong with an acquisition, hon? Happens all the time. You look upset.”
“The majority buyer is Metro Metrics. Sound familiar?”
“So Bartholomew Martin bought himself a publishing company. Tell me more about Witherspoon, Dee.”
“Witherspoon isn’t just a book publisher, Matt. They own 12 regional newspapers, a slew of magazines, and a TV station in Cleveland. It looks like Bartholomew just acquired a few mouthpieces and public microphones.”
“Witherspoon owns five magazines that I write for regularly. I guess I’ll get an inside look at any change in editorial philosophy.”
“The next election is only just over a year away,” I said. “This acquisition gives Bartholomew a big platform to stand on. Do you expect to see many articles critical of the violence of the NFL?”
“As time goes by, Matt we’ll see just how much this proud old company sticks to editorial standards. After this news, combined with our meeting with Imam Mike, my stomach isn’t feeling too good.”
“Our country’s changing, Dee, a lot faster than I ever expected it to.”
Chapter 51
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I’m Bret Baier for Fox News and welcome to Special Report. It seems almost trite to say that the political landscape is changing, but we’re seeing a tectonic shift in alliances. Billionaire hedge fund investor Bartholomew Martin announced today that he’s running for President of the United States on a third-party ticket, the Freedom from Terror Party. When asked if he would seek the Democrat or Republican lines as well, he answered with a flat ‘no.’ All through the summer, Martin’s numbers have been rising, confounding political pundits across all spectrums. In a Fox News poll taken yesterday—before the announcement of his candidacy—he was number one by double digits, with 51 percent of those polled picking him as the favorite against his Democrat and Republican rivals. It will be interesting to see what his numbers are tomorrow, after his historic announcement. Senator Kurt Lysle of Delaware, the leader of a six person pack of hopefuls running for the Democratic nomination, polled at nine percent, tied with his Republican rival, Governor Frank Simon of Illinois, who’s the front runner of nine Republicans seeking the nomination.
Martin is a controversial figure. His name has been associated with an organization known as the NFL, an acronym that stands for Not For Long. The group has been accused of countless attacks on radical Islamist sites and individuals. Martin denies any direct involvement with the group, but says that he understands their goals. We have with us this evening former Vice President Gary Morgan, who’s recognized by many to be one of the sharpest political analysts in the country. He wrote the best-selling book, American Politics— How it Works. He’ll help us make sense of this amazing change to American politics.”
“Good evening Mr. Vice President. So what do you make of all this?”
“Bret, in all my years of testing the pulse of American politics, I’m bewildered. If you had asked me back in June if Bartholomew Martin would be a key player in presidential politics I would have simply asked ‘Bartholomew who?’ But now it’s a new ballgame. You know I always shoot straight with your audience, Bret, so let me say that if you’re interested in getting my book American Politics— How it Works, buy it as a collector’s item but don’t bother to read the book because it no longer makes any sense.”
Baier held his earpiece and scribbled down a note.
“Mr. Vice President, how do you think this all came about?”
“I think that ISIS and al-Qaeda overplayed their hands, Bret. They thought that the American people had infinite patience with the constant attacks on innocent people. That all came about after the horrible events of 10/15/2015. You can’t talk to anybody who didn’t lose a friend or loved one in one of the terror attacks on that day. Bartholomew Martin figured out a way to tap into that vein of anger, and his poll numbers show it. ‘Freedom from Terror’ is a political slogan for the ages.”
“Although the election is over a year from now, do you think that Martin has a clear shot at the top job?” Baier asked.
“I hate to make predictions, Bret, but right now I’d have to say that Bartholomew Martin looks like the odds-on favorite to win the Oval Office.”
Chapter 52
The secure phone rang and Dee picked it up. It was almost 10 p.m., but my job, unfortunately, doesn’t have regular hours.
“Matt, it’s Tony Drucker from the Wall Street Journal.”
Damn. I knew I shouldn’t have given him my secure line number. Drucker was a veteran reporter for the Journal, as well as an op-ed contributor to its editorial page. Over the past six months, Drucker had become almost fanatical in his denunciations of the NFL and Bartholomew Martin. He’s a real professional, and we speak often. Whenever he interviews me, I never
feel guarded. The guy is a solid journalist, and he’s never afraid to tackle controversy. I also think of him as a friend.
“Hello, Tony, I hope I’m not keeping you up,” I wisecracked.
“I’m sorry to bother you so late, Matt, but I’m on a deadline. You probably haven’t seen the numbers yet, but the shit will soon hit the fan. The congressional and senatorial candidates running with Bartholomew on his fucking Freedom from Terror Party are starting to rack up poll numbers like Martin’s. Every candidate is ahead of his Democratic or Republican rival by at least double digits. I’m looking at a crystal ball, and I don’t like what I see. This fucker could take the White House with solid majorities in both the house and senate. I need a quote from the Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security.”
“Hey, Tony, you know I can’t do that. I trust you, my friend, and that’s why I always give you solid background for a story, but I cannot give you a quote. Capice?”
“Matt, I get it, and I’m sorry I asked. Look, you and I share the same opinion of this scumbag Martin, although you can’t express it the way I can. As a reporter I simply can’t fucking sit here and watch these poll numbers point that man toward the White House. You know me—I stick to the facts, and I’m going to dump a lot of those facts into an editorial piece I’m working on. It’s entitled “Fascism in America.” I have a lot of deep background information on NFL’s murderous activities and I’m going to let it be known. I’ve already called the Martin headquarters and sent them a proof copy, but they refuse to comment. So that will be my big emphasis—‘A spokesman from NFL refused to comment on this article.’ Matt, I want your opinion, and of course I won’t quote you. Am I crazy?”
“Tony, this will be an op-ed piece over your name, right?”
“Yes, all of my op-ed pieces run with my name.”
“So in answer to your question, Tony, yes, you’re crazy. I can’t give you specifics but we’ve seen a lot of evidence that NFL is starting to play rough, really rough, and not just with jihadis. And now that NFL is linked to the Freedom from Terror Party, it’s time to watch your ass, my friend. The title of your piece, ‘Fascism in America,’ is bold and gutsy, but you’re playing with a bunch of mean mothers.”
I heard a loud sigh.
“Matt, thank you for your input, my friend, but I’m going to go with it and file the piece. In a few days I’m going to ask you for background on the new evidence of violence you’ve discovered, but for now I’m handing in my article.”
“Tony, keep your head down.”
***
“This is Shepard Smith for Fox News, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve just found out that Tony Drucker, the veteran reporter for the Wall Street Journal has been killed in a car accident. The police say the accident is suspicious. Drucker was sitting in his car in front of his apartment with the engine off, when, according to witnesses, it was rammed by a cement truck. The truck was found, without a driver, six blocks from the scene of the accident. We express our sadness to Tony’s family. He was a good man and a great journalist. We’ll all miss him.”
Chapter 53
I walked into Rick Bellamy’s office in Washington for a planned meeting at 10 a.m. An FBI Gulfstream flew me from Chicago to Dulles Airport. Why the hell people find it necessary to blow taxpayer money on jockeying one man around on a luxury jet is beyond me.
“You heard about Tony Drucker,” I said, “the reporter for the Wall Street Journal?”
“Damn shame,” said Bellamy. “I’ve been interviewed by him for a few articles. The guy was a real journalist.”
“I spoke to him a few hours before he was killed,” I said. “He wanted my advice on an article he wrote. It was entitled ‘Fascism in America,’ and was hypercritical of Bartholomew Martin and his band of thugs. I think he just wanted a sounding board, because he was ready to sign off on the article. I warned him that he was taking a risk. It ran the next morning.”
“Do you think the NFL had anything to do with it?” Bellamy asked. “It was a car accident.”
“Yeah, it was an ‘accident,’ right? He was sitting in his car when it was hit by a cement truck. They never found the driver of the truck. It’s an open investigation, but if the NFL is involved, I’m sure the evidence will lead nowhere.”
Rick and I were about 10 minutes into our meeting when his intercom buzzed.
“A gentleman named George Rudden is here, Rick,” said Bellamy’s assistant over the intercom. “He says it’s urgent that he meet with you and Mr. Blake.”
George Rudden, meaning Al Yamani, my old friend and client, a man I never expected to see again in my life. Bellamy’s assistant opened the door to the conference room and Al walked quickly across the room and gave me a bear hug. I felt like I’d just seen a ghost.
“Al,” I said, “at the risk of appearing abrupt, where did you come from and what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Kurdistan is the answer to your first question, and I’m here because I escaped.”
“I don’t know if you realize this, Al,” said Bellamy, “but the two FBI guards who were watching you and the other two guys have disappeared. We think that they were part of the plot to kidnap you.”
“You mean Agents Mark Johnston and Carl Portera, Mr. Secretary? Yes, I know them well, and they weren’t just part of the plot. They did the actual kidnapping.”
“Holy shit,” I said, too shocked to say anything intelligent. “Al, take it from the top and tell us what’s been going on with you for the past eight months.”
“I have a ton of notes for you guys on a flash drive, but let me give you an overview of my little corner of Kurdistan, known among some of its inhabitants as Bartholomewstan. It’s a bizarre little world guys, sort of like Berlin in the 1920s. The NFL has found its home-away-from-home. The compound is about 100 acres, and almost all of the construction is new. After we were kidnapped, my friends Jake, Mickey, and I woke up in a beautiful room as breakfast was served. In walked Bartholomew himself, as scary a fucker as I’ve ever met. He assured us that we would be safer with the NFL than the FBI’s Witness Protection Program. We were allowed to write to our hearts’ content and even to date the local girls, of whom there were plenty.”
“There are young, single women there?” I said. “I thought that the NFL was a militaristic outfit.”
“Oh, it’s definitely militaristic, as designed by Bartholomew. The three of us looked forward to seeing some young women, after our time in the Witness Protection Program, but that’s when things got weird, totally fucking weird. The three of us compared notes, not that there was much to compare. We all agreed that the women seemed scared. That’s the only way to describe it. The typical response to anything we said, such as ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ was ‘Whatever Bartholomew thinks is appropriate.’ The three of us got the feeling that all the girls on ‘the compound’ were Bartholomew’s harem, available for temporary assignments. I slept with one chick, and not to be too graphic, I felt like I was screwing a wooden board. Oh, yeah, the place doesn’t have a name. Everybody calls it ‘the compound.’
“Do you know of any other people from our government who may have defected to ‘the compound’?” Bellamy asked.
“Yes, a ton of people, and I have their names for you on my flash drive. Besides the FBI agents who kidnapped us, I have the names of weapons procurement people, other FBI agents, and a few CIA agents.”
Bellamy and I looked at each other.
“Al, how is it that you had access to so much information?” I said.
“Simple. I became a ‘trusted advisor.’ I sized it up pretty early on that the only way I would ever escape was to become an insider. And I became an insider because of a book that they wanted me to write. To do my research work, I would need access to a lot of people, or so I convinced them. That’s also how I escaped. I was allowed to travel around with their patrols. We stopped near an American Army post to take a leak. I simply walked up to a Humvee and said to the driver, ‘I’m an American citizen an
d I’ve been kidnapped.’ Simple as that. Mickey, Jake and I had all agreed that if any of us saw a chance to get out we’d take it. I have to say that I’m worried about those guys.”
“What is the book about?” asked Bellamy.
“This is where it gets really weird, gentlemen,” Al said. “It’s a non-fiction book entitled The Impossible War. The thesis is simple: democracies can’t fight terror. To carry on a war against terrorism requires that people surrender a lot of rights for the greater good. In other words, if you want to fight the bad guys, you need to start with a fucking dictatorship. The book should be titled Mein Kampf. It’s Bartholomew’s idea for the future of government, and you guys need to pay attention to it. The NFL people insisted, well they simply told me, that it would be published under the pseudonym that Random House used for my last novel, George Rudden. That book did well, and is still doing well. So the NFL people saw me as a good brand to use. I suppose you heard about Bartholomew acquiring Witherspoon Publishing Company. I think one of the primary reasons was to publish my book. No other publisher would put out such a ranting piece of crap.”
The Reformers: A Matt Blake Novel (The Matt Blake legal thriller series Book 2) Page 22
