Authors: Paul Moxham
Jack rears back and fires. Another good shot.
“Nice,” comments Maggie. She smacks Jack on the back as he walks toward the board to collect his darts. When he turns back around,
Maggie’s
already aiming for the board. She lets the dart fly. Jack ducks just in time...
The dart whizzes past his head and lands squarely on 19. Jack rises back up, eyes bulging in disbelief as Maggie steps forward and whispers in Jack’s ear. “Too close for comfort?”
Maggie backs up to line up her next shot and Jack scrambles out of the way. He shuffles to the nearby table and picks up his beer.
But
as he lifts the bottle to his lips, his eyes are drawn to the television mounted in the corner. It is showing file footage of two powerful and well-dressed men walking across the White House Rose Garden. One is Chief of Staff Peter Phelps,50s,wearing his salt-and-pepper temples like a badge of honor and a $5000 suit as though he was born in it. The other is Vice President-Elect James Hawkins,late 40s,strong and powerful, moving with an easy gait and waving to the camera.
The news reporter speaks as the footage
is shown
. “White House Chief of Staff Peter Phelps has been asked to stay on in that prestigious position, a choice many credit to the influence of Vice President-Elect Hawkins, a longtime friend of the powerful Washington insider.”
Footage of President-Elect Ben Lombard as he rallies outside a factory with picketing union workers
is shown
as the reporter continues speaking. “Pundits suggest the choice clashes with the reform message of Lombard, whose surprise victory in the fall came with promises to take on the Washington establishment and powerful business interests. Many see the continuation of Phelps’s service as Lombard’s bipartisan attempt to ease the transition as the incoming president hopes to pass his famous Renewed Society program, a series of reforms likely to shake up all areas of domestic policy, ranging from healthcare to energy.”
Footage of the rotund, balding Speaker of the House, Andrew Baxter,
is shown
as he speaks on the floor of Congress as the reporter continues. “The program’s staunchest opponent, Speaker of the House Andrew Baxter, carries only a slim majority in his house and may have trouble halting the president’s growing momentum. The coming Inauguration promises to provide a great deal of drama on Capitol Hill.”
The reporter concludes speaking and switches to another topic as Jack sits down at a nearby table and shakes his head.
“Big things happening in the world.
Huge.”
Maggie lets a dart fly. “Oh, here we go again...”
Jack takes no notice of her. “False flag attacks and unjustified wars.
Big
Pharma
and Oil companies running the show for God knows
how long. Now we just have to wait and see if this new hero is
gonna
be just like the others.
Government, of, by and for whom?
Sure as hell not the people!”
Maggie looks over at the bartender, who rolls her eyes at Jack’s rant.
“The whole country is getting robbed blind and we’re not doing a damn thing about it. Just busting kids with candy bars,” concludes Jack.
“What? Not the kind of ‘protect and serve’ you had in mind?”
“It’s enough to drive
a cop nuts
.
Might explain my father.”
Maggie perks up, and her interest draws her to the table. She sits down.
“You must have heard stories,” continues Jake. “But you never asked.”
Maggie nods.
“Figured it wasn’t my place.
Maybe you’d talk when you wanted to.”
Jack shrugs. “Not much to tell, really. A few years back, he just left.
No explanation, no promise to return.
Just packed up and moved out to a house in Virginia.
And
he won’t return calls or answer letters. I just don’t get it.”
“Always looking to resolve people’s hidden natures, huh?” smiles Maggie.
“When you don’t understand the people closest to you, it makes it hard to trust anybody, you know?”
“Do you trust me?”
Jack looks up. He fights off a small smile, then downs the rest of his beer and stands. “Not when you’ve got a dart in your hand.”
That evening, Jack huddles behind a computer in his bedroom, reading a
blog
entitled:
The Truth Revealed.
All around him in the room are newspaper clippings and bumpers stickers held to walls and corkboards by thumbtacks. His conspiracy theories are laid out concisely by phrases like: 9/11
Was
An Inside Job, Just Because You’re Paranoid Doesn’t Mean They Aren’t Out To Get You, Who Is Spying On Who?
“I’m leaving,” calls out a voice.
Jack glances over his shoulder and sees his mother, Nancy, standing in the doorway.
She’s
putting on earrings and looking rather stunning in an evening gown.
Jack shifts uncomfortably. “Shouldn’t you wear your wedding ring? I mean, you’re still married, right?”
“That would make for a pretty awkward first date.”
Jack gives her a judgmental look and she shoots him a glare.
“What? You want me to sit around the house like
an old maid
? When your father left…”
Jack stands abruptly to retort. Nancy glances at her watch. She
doesn’t
have time to fight a fight they’ve clearly had before. “I’ve got to go. Just tell me I look good, okay?”
Jack sighs, calms down. “You look great, Mom.”
Nancy starts to turn away, then stops, and turns back to her son. “Oh Jack...” She digs into her purse and pulls out a scuffed envelope. “This came from Charles.” She tosses the envelope to Jack. It sails through the air and lands at his feet.
The return address
reads:
United States Secret Service. Jack looks at the seal, a slight snarl appearing on his lips.
“Secret Service.”
“Go on, open it,” requests Nancy.
Jack reluctantly opens the envelope and pulls out its contents.
It’s
an official invitation to the Presidential Inaugural Ball. He mutters. “Sure, rub it in...”
When Jack looks up, his mother is already disappearing down the hallway. “Don’t forget to thank him.”
Celebratory lights sparkle against the falling snow, making the White House look even more amazing than usual.
It’s
a black tie affair inside one of the many ballrooms. Dignitaries in
tuxes
, trophy wives in sequined dresses.
Everyone goes silent as the Chief of Staff Peter Phelps makes an announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, the President-Elect of the United States... Benjamin Lombard!”
Everyone applauds politely as they watch
Lombard
, dashing and commanding in his
perfectly-tailored
tuxedo, make his way through the room, shaking hands vigorously.
Across the room, Jack stands alone in the corner, watching the President-Elect and Chief of Staff from
afar
as he sips a light beer.
“What are you, a tea-
totaler
?” calls out a voice.
Jack spins around, grinning as he sees old friend Charles Long,
thirty six
, clean shaven and dressed impeccably in a black suit. They embrace.
“
Gotta
keep my wits about me in this den of wolves,” answers Jack.
Charles grins.
“Same old Jack.”
“Thanks for the invite, Charles. This is...
Amazing.
I still can’t believe you got this gig.”
“Yeah, the six years of background checks paid off. C’mon, let me show you around.”
Charles leads the way around various hallways
till
they come to a balcony from where they can see the fabled White House Rose Garden.
“This is bad-ass, right? Totally bad-ass,” asks Charles.
“Well, better than being a DC beat cop, I’ll tell you that much,” says Jack.
“What? Are you sore I moved and stuck you partnering with some newbie?”
A tiny hint of a smile registers on Jack’s face. He covers quickly, but not before Charles notices. “What?”
“What?”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s a girl! Your new partner is a girl and you…”
“No, I don’t!” Jack tries desperately to change the subject. “Hey, I’m proud of you, Charles. I really am.
You’ve
come a long way from DC Metro.
Not exactly busting kids for stealing candy bars.”
“If you don’t like humping it on the streets, take the detective’s exam again. Get yourself a cheap suit and a notepad, do some real good.”
Jack shakes his head. “That isn’t
gonna
happen.”
“Don’t give up. Your dad…”
Jack looks at Charles. “Don’t.”
Charles continues. “Had to take the exam three times to pass it, but he did.
And
you know what? He was the best detective on the force.”
“Was being the operative word,” says Jake. “If he was so great, if being a cop was so great, why did he walk away? Legendary detective Spencer Mitchell up and quits just like that.”
“What’s with this mope-around attitude?” asks Charles. “I mean, you always thought you were the boss, even when I was the senior officer. Figured you’d be the one in the suit and I’d be the one wearing out my shoe leather.”
“It didn’t work out that way. Nothing works out the way it’s supposed to.”
Charles leans back and cocks his head as he keeps eye contact with his old friend. Nothing spoken for a few seconds, then Jack settles down.
“Look, I’m sorry, Charles. It’s not your fault.”
“No, it’s not,” says Charles, gazing down at the roses.
“I just wish things were different.”
“See? Maybe you and your dad are a lot more alike than you realize.”
At the mention of his dad, Jack rolls his eyes. Charles laughs.
“Ah, contempt.
Very nice.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“No? Then what do you want to do?”
Jack motions toward a room in the distance, the Oval Office.
“A tour, buddy.”
“You got it.” Charles leads the way into the hallway and Jack follows. The two of them move quickly, Charles’ eyes darting toward everyone he sees.
“Come on. Just a peek,” pleads Jack.
“Dude, no.
Oval Office?
They’d can me in a heartbeat.”
“Aw, and take away your black sunglasses and Illuminati ID badge?”
“You know, I’d be insulted by that if I didn’t think you were serious.”
“You want to play big shot, right?
That’s
why you invited me here? But you can’t even get me through the big door.”
Charles looks at him. “You think it’s that easy to goad me into doing something I shouldn’t?”
Jack grins. “Two words: Julie Stevenson.”
“Okay, okay. Times change, Jack. You know that.”
“The more they change, the more they stay the same. Come on.” Jack nods toward the open door to the Oval Office.
“A peek.
That’s all.”
Jack shuffles forward, hurrying to the famed office, but
he is instantly cut of by Agent Antonio Mendez, trim and stern
. “Can I help you?”
Charles looks at him. “
It’s
okay, Mendez.
Just giving him a peek.
He was my former partner on the job.”
Mendez nods brusquely, and steps aside as Jack peers into the room.
It’s
empty, but it’s majestic.
And
, just like that, the peep show is over. Mendez steps in front
of
Jack
, blocking his view. “Show’s over. Agent Long, if you…”
“Thanks. We’re done here.”
Charles grabs Jack by the crook of his elbow and pulls him away. “Satisfied?”
Jack just turns to him and grins playfully.
“Mm.
What else you got?”
Charles leads an excited Jack down another corridor. “If the bedroom’s empty, you can step inside.
But
just for a minute and then we’ve got to make tracks. I may be on the inside but
don’t
be fooled, these walls have eyes and ears. And this hallway’s restricted to outside guests.”
Jack looks around, sees the countless framed paintings on the walls.
All of them seemingly staring at him with their painted eyes.”
“Uh-oh...” says Charles.
Jack spins around, sees Charles tightening up.
“My boss.”
Charles throws open a door and shoves Jack into the bedroom. The door shuts quickly, leaving Jack in a nearly dark room, just a thin shaft of light coming from the window.
Jack whips out a tiny light fastened onto the end of his key chain and shines it around the room.
A single bed, fireplace, portraits and a bookcase.