Lady Justice and the Candidate (14 page)

    “On the day of arrival, any car remaining anywhere along the miles of the designated route is towed away and an armed officer is stationed on both sides of every cross street along the route.

    “The cost of this presidential visit to your fair city is a staggering 7 to 10 million dollars.

    “Cities are scrambling to find money to fund police and fire department pension funds and law enforcement positions go unfilled for lack of dollars, but we spend millions so that the
president or vice president can shuffle into town for a fund raising dinner for his next campaign.

    “My pledge to you if you elect me as your next
president, is that I want to hear what you have to say, but I also want for your police departments and fire stations to be fully staffed and for the brave men and women who serve you to be compensated fairly, so please don’t be offended if I don’t come to your town. You can thank me when you see a police car patrolling your neighborhood or a fireman entering a burning building to save a life.

    “So my question to the candidates is, “How can you justify the billions spent so that you can motorcade from the airport to your next political rally?

    “Actually, never mind. I think we all know the answer to that one.”

    After this opening volley, both candidates must have reconsidered their plot to put down the new guy and concentrated on attacking each other with the same tired old arguments that had been hashed and rehashed in previous debates.

    An hour after the debate had ended, a Gallup poll showed only a few percentage points separating the three candidates. If this trend continued into the general election, it raised the very real possibility that no candidate would garner enough electoral votes and the selection of the president would be decided by a vote in the House of Representatives.

    To an outsider, the scene inside of Ben’s suite might have looked like he had already won the
presidency, and in a way, it was truly a victory, for no independent candidate had ever come this far this close to Election Day. 

    There were congratulatory hugs all around and laughter rang through the room as Ben’s supporters relived the defining moments of the debate.

    “Did you see the look on the governor’s face when Ben told him to stay out of our bedrooms? Priceless!”

    “Well, you’ve done it! You’ve pissed off the
president!”

    Suddenly, Paul Ford burst into the room, “Quick! Turn on the TV. Ben’s going to be roasted on Jay Leno’s monologue. I just received a call from the network giving us a 'heads up.'  "

    Mark flipped on the TV just as Leno was beginning.

   
“How many of you watched the presidential debate?”

    There was a smattering of applause.

   
“Experts say that Ben Foster, the new guy on the scene, gave the president and the governor more than they could handle.

    “When I say ‘new guy’ I use the term loosely. Actually at the age of 70, he would be the oldest guy ever elected to a first term.

    “Somebody asked why a man that age would run for the presidency and Foster said ‘Because it was on my bucket list!’ ”

    Audience laughter.

   
“Actually, it might not be a bad idea to have a president that age. We wouldn’t have to worry about a sex scandal.”

    More laughs.

   
“After the debate, the president said it was time to take off the gloves, to which Foster replied, ‘and I’m taking out my teeth.'

   
Applause.

    “It’s been said that the
president wears briefs and the governor wears boxers. What do you suppose Foster wears? Depends!”

   
After another round of applause, Leno moved on to another topic.

   
The room had been silent during the monologue. Everyone turned to Ben not knowing what to expect.

   
Ben in his usual laid-back manner said, “An Irish fellow by the name of Brendan Behan said, 'There’s no such thing as bad publicity.' In one evening, we have stood up to the most powerful and influential men in the country and been roasted by one of TV’s top comedians. By golly, I think we’ve arrived!”

    Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and soon was ribbing the candidate about Leno’s barbs.

    After a while the excitement ebbed and was replaced by pure exhaustion. We had all been running on adrenalin and now that the rush had passed, we were all ready to get some rest --- especially me.

    One of the biggest adjustments for me had been the hectic schedule. Maggie and I had a set routine --- up at seven and in bed by ten. I don’t think that ever happened even once. The getting up wasn’t so much of a problem as the late nights. When the other guys were still going strong, I was wilting in a corner chair.

    As the staff filed out of the room one by one, Ben grabbed my arm, “Walt, could you stay just a few minutes more? I have something I want to say to you.”

    Reluctantly, I stayed.

    When everyone was gone, Ben said, “Walt, I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you personally. No matter what happens, win or lose, I consider what we have accomplished as a victory for the American people and I don’t think Helen would have let me do this by myself. You have put your life on the line for me at every campaign stop and have even taken a bullet meant for me. That means a lot.”

    Just then there was a knock on the door.

    “Hang on,” he said, “I have a treat for us.”

    I heard an exchange of words and Ben returned wheeling a cart with a huge key lime pie on top.

    “I knew that this was one of your favorites, and you know my sweet tooth --- I thought maybe we could celebrate and I could thank you with a huge slice.”

    Under normal conditions, I would have been ecstatic. Key lime was definitely one of my favorites, but at that very moment, I was tired, sleepy, exhausted and my stomach was tied up in knots.

    I didn’t want to offend my friend, but just the sight of the whipped cream piled high on the pie gave me the shudders.

    “Ben, you don’t have to thank me. I am doing this because I believe that what you are doing is right and that the voters deserve to have a viable alternative.

    “If it’s okay with you, I’ll pass on the pie tonight. I’m just so pooped I don’t think I could enjoy it.”

    I could see that he was disappointed, but he also understood, “Sure, get some rest. You deserve it, but you’ll be sorry in the morning. I’ll probably eat my piece and yours too. Good night.”

    I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

    It seemed like I had just dropped off when I felt someone shake my shoulder.

    I squinted at the clock and saw that it was 5:30 in the morning.

    “Good grief, what’s so important that you have to wake me this early?”

    “You need to come downstairs --- now.

    “Ben Foster is dead!”

CHAPTER 14

    I quickly splashed some water on my face, threw on some clothes and headed downstairs.

    The joy and jubilation that had filled the room just a few hours earlier had been replaced with shock and sorrow.

    Expressions of utter disbelief were etched on the faces of the staffers. The SS guys were huddled in small groups, most likely trying to determine what had gone wrong.

    A lone figure sat in the corner dabbing swollen, tear-stained eyes. Helen Foster’s worst fears had been realized.

    When Mark Davenport saw me, he pulled me aside.

    “Walt, you were the last person to see Ben last night. Tell us what you remember.”

    “Ben wanted to thank me for my part in the campaign. Just after all of you left, there was a knock on the door. Ben had ordered a key lime pie because he knew it was my favorite. He wanted to surprise me.”

    “Did you see who delivered the pie?” Mark asked.

    “No, I was in the other part of the suite. Why do you ask?”

    “Because it was the pie that killed him. It had been laced with arsenic.”

    I was suddenly light-headed as Mark’s words sank in.

    “I --- I told Ben that I was just too tired and queasy to eat, and I begged off. My God, if I had eaten that pie there would have been two dead Ben Fosters!”

    Mark shook his head, “We knew about the order and checked it out as usual, but you know Ben and his sweet tooth. He was always ordering pie or cake --- I guess someone else knew about it too.”

    Just then, Paul Ford called the group together.

    “I’m so sorry,” he began. “We have all worked so hard and we have come so far. It’s a tragedy that it all has to end like this.

    “I want to thank each and every one of you for your time and your loyalty before we go our separate ways.”

    “NO!” came a determined voice from the far side of the room. “This is not over! Not by a long shot! My husband worked too long and too hard and we have come so close --- no, we cannot give in to these bastards now! We cannot let them win!”

    “But Helen,” Paul protested.

    “Don’t ‘but Helen’ me,” she replied with a vengeance. “One Ben Foster may be dead, but we have another one,” she said, pointing her finger.

    Everyone looked where she was pointing --- at me!

    I was totally caught off guard, “Helen! What are you talking about? I’m not Ben --- not even close. I’m not a politician. I wouldn’t fool anyone. I was just a guy out there shaking people’s hands.”

    “Don’t sell yourself short,” she replied, smiling for the first time since I entered the room.

    I could see the wheels turning in Paul Ford’s head.

    “It could work,” he said tentatively. “It’s only a week until election day. Ben only had one more address scheduled. We could coach you through that.”

    “But what if he would actually win,” I protested. “I couldn’t be
president, for chrissakes. I don’t even want to be president!”

    “You wouldn’t have to be. It wouldn’t be just Ben that was elected, it would be the whole ticket including John Little. If we were to actually win, when everything had been confirmed, we would announce Ben’s assassination and John would become
president.

    “It would throw the country into a tizzy, but what could anyone do about it?”

    Now everyone’s attention was on John Little.

    “How about it, John?” Paul asked. “Are you ready to be
president?”

    John thought for a moment before answering, “I certainly never wanted to be the
president this way. Ben and I would have made a fantastic team and when he felt like he had accomplished what he had set out to do, then I would have been very happy to continue his work.

    “I believe in what Ben Foster stood for and if I can honor his name by making even a few of his dreams of reform come true, then that’s what I’ll do. I’m in!”

    One of the SS guys posed an interesting question, “Somebody out there knows that Ben Foster is dead. So what happens when he shows up this morning all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?”

    “I don’t think that will be a problem,” Mark interjected. “What are they going to say? ‘Hey, what are you doing here? We killed you last night!’

    “As far as we know, only the people in this room and the two goofballs back in Kansas City know that there have been two Bens all along, and even if the people behind this assassination suspected that there were two, how would they know which one they killed?

    “No, if we play our cards right and just keep focused on the campaign, there would be nothing that they could do --- except maybe try to kill Ben for a second time. We just can’t let that happen.”

    Again, all eyes turned to me.

    “How about it, Walt?” Paul asked. “Are you in?”

    I looked at Helen, “Ben always said, ‘If you’re going to die, it might as well count for something!’ In for a dime --- in for a dollar! Let’s do this --- for Ben!”

    Tears streamed down Helen’s face as she hugged me close.

CHAPTER 15

    For the next few days, Paul Ford did his best to prepare me for the last address before Election Day.

    Unfortunately, the topic was foreign aid --- the one subject that I knew absolutely nothing about.

    I understood why we were giving over $1.5 billion dollars to Afghanistan. After all, we had been blowing the place up for ten years.

    Beyond that, I didn’t know Mozambique from Tanzania.

    I was surprised that we ship over $300 million to Nigeria each year. I wondered if any of that money was part of what the Prime Minister had been trying to give me through my email account. All I had to do was send him my Social Security and bank account numbers so that the funds could be transferred. Who wouldn’t go for a deal like that?

    With Ben’s death and the two previous attempts on our lives, security was tighter than ever.

    Sully had healed nicely and had been back with me for a few weeks, but with this latest development, another former G.I. Joe named Max had been added to my personal security team.

    SS guys were everywhere checking routes, sweeping hotel rooms for bugging devices and even checking the food that was brought to our room, but Sully and Max were stuck to me like a wad of gum under a theatre seat.

    I couldn’t even take a dump until these two had thoroughly checked out the facilities and then one of them was in the stall next to me while the other one stood by the door encouraging others to relieve themselves elsewhere.

    The first few times I waited a bit too long and had to really squeeze the old sphincter while they cleared the can. I quickly learned to give myself plenty of lead-time to avoid creating an embarrassing situation.

    The venue for my final address was the Georgia World Congress Center in Atlanta. It seemed like a good place to talk about foreign aid.

    As I was being prepped for the evening, one very important thing was brought to my attention that I hadn’t considered --- this would be the first public appearance for Helen Foster since Ben had died.

    In all of the venues where both candidates were present, they would be joined onstage with their wives.

    Helen Foster had been well received by the public. Some reporters even compared her to Eleanor Roosevelt.

    Ben and Helen and John and Linda would join upraised hands to acknowledge the cheering crowds.

    Tonight would be different. It wouldn’t be her husband’s hand she would be holding --- it would be mine.

    She is indeed a courageous woman and would have made a grand First Lady.

    SS agents surrounded the four of us as we made our way through the tunnel to the auditorium.

    We waited in the wing while Paul Ford revved up the audience and made the introductions.

    Just before we were to go on, Helen squeezed my hand and whispered, “Thank you, Walt. Ben would be proud.”

    I gave her a quick hug just before we were escorted to the stage.

    It was with mixed feelings that I stood there, holding her hand high in the air and gazing at the sea of faces that had no idea that their champion for change had been taken from them by sinister forces determined to preserve their power and influence at any cost.

    When I took the podium, I thanked everyone for their attendance and their support throughout the campaign.

    I was really nervous about the foreign aid stuff. Even though I had studied the material and listened to Paul Ford, I just couldn’t get my head around it all.

    I checked my notes and plunged ahead, quoting the statistics that had been given me.

    “Over $50 billion dollars is sent out of this country every year, some to repair what has been destroyed in war, some for humanitarian aid and some for weaponry.

    “Unfortunately, once this money leaves our shores, there is no guarantee that the regimes receiving the aid are using it for the purposes intended.

    “The newswires are full of stories of shipments of medical supplies and other goods that have been hijacked and sold on the black market. 

    “I am absolutely a supporter of foreign aid, particularly as it applies to countries that have been ravaged by earthquakes, tsunamis and floods.

    “We are a blessed nation and one that has much to give to people less fortunate. My goal as your President will be to strengthen the humanitarian aspect of our foreign aid with more dollars earmarked for organizations such as the Peace Corps and other worthy groups such as Doctors Without Borders.

    “The funds we send abroad should be in the hands of those giving aid directly to the people in need.

    “It has been written that to whom much is given, much will be required. My goal is to insure that the aid that is given is used wisely and for the purposes intended.”

    I paused while the audience acknowledged their approval. I was relieved when that portion of my address was over.

    I knew that Paul had written the remaining part of my speech, but as I looked at the eager faces in the auditorium, I set the script aside.

    I looked back into the face of the woman who had been willing to let her husband risk everything for a cause that was more important to him than life itself, and she gave me a knowing smile and a nod.

    For four months I had been listening and learning from this man who had a vision for a greater America, and as I turned back to the crowd, I knew the words he wanted me to say.

    “From the very beginning I have told you that my candidacy is about change and reform.

    “When I was just a lad, I can remember standing in my class in school, holding my hand over my heart and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to our flag.

    “I remember the Fourth of July Parades where the veterans proudly marched down the street holding Old Glory high.

    “I remember going to the movie theatre on Saturday afternoon and seeing the newsreels of our brave men fighting on foreign soil to protect our freedom.

    “I remember the days when people were proud to be Americans.

    “Sadly, those days are gone --- hopefully not forever.

    “In 2010, a poll was conducted that showed that only 22% of Americans surveyed trust the government in Washington. They said that they believed that the government was a major threat to their personal freedoms and wanted federal power reigned in.

    “A year later, in 2011 that figure dropped to 15%.

    “Think about that! Think about your families, your friends, all of the people that you pass on the street and realize that eight out of ten of them no longer have faith in our elected officials.

    “A few years ago, Lee Greenwood gave us a stirring song,
God Bless the U.S.A
. More than anything, I want to shout the words of the chorus to anyone who will listen, ‘
I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free, and I won’t forget the men that died who gave that right to me
.
'

    “My candidacy is about restoring that faith so that, once again, eight out of ten Americans can say,
‘I’ll gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today, ‘cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land. God bless the U.S.A!
’

    “This election is about more than just electing another body to occupy the White House for the next four years. It is about restoring our country to its former greatness and insuring the freedom of its people for generations to come.

    “Join with me and my vice president and let’s do this together.

    “God bless you all and God bless the U.S.A.”

    The audience jumped to their feet and cheered wildly as Helen, John and Linda joined hands with me once again.

    If Ben Foster was watching from somewhere in the Great Beyond, I hoped that he was smiling.

    In a basement apartment on Armour Boulevard in Kansas City, three people were huddled together in front of a small TV.

    While their stated purpose was to watch the final address of the
presidential candidate that had captured the hearts of many Americans, the real reason that they were together was to share the grief that still remained after four long months.

    John Williams had lost a son, Mary Murphy her long time employer and Willie Duncan, his best friend.

    The untimely and tragic death of Walt Williams had left a vacuum in their lives that time had not yet filled.

    John flipped on the TV, “I really like what this guy has to say. He’s not like those other political puppets who have been bought and paid for by big business.”

    Willie nodded his head, “De dude sho don’ mince words. He tell it like it is an’ if you don’ like it, you can lump it!”

    Mary’s support was more personal, “I like him because he reminds me of Mr. Walt. Haven’t you ever noticed how they resemble each other?”

    The two men acknowledged that they had.

    When Ben Foster began his address, John remarked, “Something seems different tonight. I’ve watched this guy speak several times and something just seems different.”

    “Maybe he’s just getting excited,” Mary offered. “After all, the election is just a few days away.”

    “Maybe,” John conceded.

    Near the end of Foster’s address, when he had finished with his ideas on foreign aid, the trio watched as he laid his notes aside.

    When the words of the candidate filled the room, "A few years ago, Lee Greenwood gave us a stirring song,
God Bless the U.S.A
.," Willie sat upright in his chair.

    “Shit, man! Dat ain’t no Ben Foster! Dat’s Mr. Walt!”

    “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” John asked.

    “It’s de tell. Evabodies got a tell. Watch when he talks --- see him rub his chin --- you ever see Foster rub his chin like dat?  I been knowin’ dat man fo’ a lot o’ years an’ I jest know dat’s him!”

    The camera panned in for a close-up as the candidate said, “
I’ll gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today, ‘cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land. God bless the U.S.A!
”

    Mary leaned close to the TV. “There! See that mole on his neck. Back when Walt was selling real estate and wearing ties every day, he was always pulling his collar away from that mole. Willie’s right! That’s Mr. Walt!”

    John still wasn’t convinced, “But how ---?”

    Then the old man started putting the pieces together.

    “They said Walt died, but they never had a body --- and Maggie’s been taking this thing a little too well --- SON-OF-A-BITCH! He’s been undercover all this time. Walt’s alive!”

    At the end of the broadcast, it was announced that on Election Day, Ben Foster would be back at the Marriott in Kansas City where he had started his campaign, to hold his watch party.

    “Then that’s where we’re going to be,” John said.

    “What about Bernice, the Professor and Jerry? What about Maggie?” Mary asked. “Should we tell them?”

    “Not until we’re certain, but I sure as hell intend to find out!”