The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology (46 page)

“I wonder if that's how it got to my ex-boss's bosses.”

“From Wendi? Don't know; could be.”

“But I don't remember how it got to me, and that was way before
it got to them.”

“And then there was Frank, an equally passionate Republibot,
and he could have done the same thing on the other side. And all I
wanted to do was get some feedback on some specific things in Donne's
policies.”

“Red flags in front of angry bulls, Jake; both sides. I sure
hope whoever is tailing you is a friendly and can also protect you.”

“Oh, geez, oh, geez. Back to paranoia.”

“Paranoia is what keeps us alive, in our business; that's what
we used to say in the Agency. Jake, I gotta tell ya, I'm still
looking over my shoulder, 'cause I made some pretty dangerous enemies
back in the eighties, and they do have long memories. Believe me, I
speak from experience.” She shuddered and stroked the scar on
her shoulder. After a beat, Jake reached over and stroked her hand,
then took it in his.

“I believe you, Pam, and I'm … I'm … I don't know
… what do I – what do we do now?”

“We wait, and watch, and see what happens, keep our eyes open
and stay cool, very cool. But you should stop giving every Tom, Dick
and Harry the link to the web site.”

“I can do that, I think.”

“Geez, Jake, your shoulders are really tight. How about you
try to compartmentalize all that stuff and go lie down and I'll give
you a massage?”

“That sounds great, Pam; thanks.”

“Just put the tailing stuff in a little box in a back corner of
your brain and take several deep breaths … and take your
clothes off.”

Jake smiled for the first time since they had gotten to the condo and
complied. Pam, also in her birthday suit, got to work on Jake's
shoulders and back.

Ten minutes later, with Jake's back and shoulders feeling as relaxed
as a plate of spaghetti (cooked, of course), Pam did a final
feather-light tour of his back, arms and legs and then rolled off of
him and stood up.

“Okay, Jake, now roll over, take out your teeth and keep your
eyes closed, okay?”

“Okay,” Jake mumbled and did as she asked.

A minute later, as Jake gasped and squirmed, Stevie Bruce was the
ecstatic recipient of a Neapolitan Suzanne, and a few minutes later,
of a Neapolitan Ginny May, the latter accompanied by the Bolero.

Seventeen minutes after that, Pam's “Oh, my GODD” was
louder and much longer than usual, followed immediately by yet
another … and another … and another … and
another, and then she collapsed onto Jake's chest, breathless and
gasping.

When she finally caught her breath, she whispered, “Oh, Jake, I
love it that you quit smoking. Did you quit again between the
airport and here? My god!!!”

Jake, also breathless and gasping, managed to mumble, “I guess
it was good for you, too.”

Pam started with a giggle, then a chuckle, then a full-out laugh, to
the point that she started snorting again. She rolled onto her back,
pulling him over on top of her, Stevie Bruce and Ginny May still in
their joyful but now relaxed communion.

“I so missed this, Jake. I love having you in and on and
around me.”

“Me, too, Pam. Who'da thunk it?” Jake nuzzled her
throat and ear, until Pam turned her head and began what turned into
a solid half hour of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, cuddling and
snuggling, with Stevie Bruce and Ginny May alternately throbbing and
squeezing, until Stevie Bruce appeared to be fully resuscitated, at
which point Pam hit the remote and the Bolero played once again.

Three floors up, Sharon's voice rasped, “Good for you, Jakey
baby, good for you.” Then she headed to the balcony for a
smoke.

One floor below Pam's condo, Michael and Janice McGilligan, 80-ish
snowbirds from Indiana, had just returned from a bingo game at their
church and were setting their walkers beside the bed as they slowly
clambered in.

“Do you hear that, Janice?” Michael asked. “Remember
when we used to make love to it?”

“That was fifty years ago, you old fart. Twenty years ago, you
couldn't even last as long as the 'Hall of the Mountain King,' and
now you probably can't last as long as a thirty-second commercial
jingle.”

“Ah, go to sleep, you old bitch.”

“You too, sweetie.”

They air-kissed and were sound asleep in minutes.

Twenty-six minutes later, as Jake lay breathless and sweating and Pam
lay breathless and glistening, a little box opened in the corner of
Jake's brain and sent a message, which Jake tried but failed to keep
from exiting his mouth.

“I guess this would be a bad time to mention the death
threats.”

-94-

Friday, March 2, 2012

8:47 a.m. EST

A network morning talk show

After another solid week of promos for Donne's interview, using the
first three questions and answers, Lindsey smiled at the camera after
a commercial break.

“Welcome back. I'm Lindsey Framingham, and I've now got
another clip from my exclusive interview with Gordon Donne, the man
we all now call boss.”

The screen cut to the same shot of Lindsey and Gordon Donne on the
chairs in the Oval Office that was used in the first promo series.

“Mr. Donne,” Lindsey began, “on your foreign
policy, what style do you intend to use?”

“Well, Lindsey, I'm not a wuss like your last president and I'm
certainly not a cowboy like the one before him. I intend to be
flexible, since every foreign issue is full of its own nuance. But
generally, as you've seen, I tend to be strong, but thoughtful. For
example, when Iran -- ”

The screen cut to a medium closeup of Lindsey in the studio.

“If you want to find out what Iran did and how Donne reacted,
we'll be running the whole interview on this show on Friday, March
16th. Be sure to mark that on your calendar. But now, back to Rose
and Tom and their guest, the brother of a 57-year-old bodybuilder who
told people he had the body of a 22-year-old, which proved true when
the Toledo Police came and took her corpse out of his freezer.

“Rose, Tom, take it away. Oh, oops.” She giggled and
blushed as the camera cut to a three-shot of Rose and Tom and their
guest.

-95-

Six Months Earlier

Sunday, September 18, 2011

11:05 p.m.

Bonita Springs, Florida

“What death threats, Jake? When? How many?”

“There've been sixtee- – no, seventeen of 'em, I think.
All anonymous emails, from untraceable email servers. The first one
came in just after I dropped you at the airport last month. Then
they sort of trickled in, with a few big spurts here and there, and I
found the last one just before I left to pick you up tonight; it was
sent this afternoon.”

“Oh, geez, Jake. Were any of them credible?”

“Maybe four, five; most of 'em were just rants, with a 'you
should die' kind of thing in there.”

“But the others? Specifics? Reasons? Methods?”

“Reasons, yes; specifics or methods, not really, at least as I
remember them.”

“You saved them, right?”

“Of course. You want to see 'em?”

“Absolutely. You know that was a big part of what I did in the
Service, threat assessment, judging credibility and profiling and
tracking down the senders.”

“I figured that, but I didn't know for sure.”

“Yup; four years out of my twenty.”

“You want to see 'em?”

“Do any of them have an immediate timeframe?”

“No; all just sorta general.”

“Can we look at them tomorrow?”

“Oh, of course. I didn't bring them along. I just wanted this
to be a big welcome home night for you.”

“It sure has been, Jake, even bigger than I could ever have
hoped for.” She giggled and then yawned. “I'm sorry,
Jake.”

Jake chuckled, too. “Oh, Pam, that's okay. And I'm sorry for
even bringing it up; it just sorta popped out.”

Pam giggled even more.

“What? What'd I say?”

Pam, laughing even harder, said, “Think about it, Jake.”

Perplexed, Jake did, and then finally chuckled. “Oh, Pam.”

“Bravo, Jake.”

Then, again entangled in and around each other, they drifted off into
a long, deep sleep.

As the sun rose, the Bolero played … and so did they.

-96-

Friday, March 9, 2012

8:47 a.m. EST

A network morning talk show

After another solid week of promos for Donne's interview, using four
questions, Lindsey smiled at the camera after a commercial break.

“Welcome back. I'm Lindsey Framingham, and I've now got
another clip from my exclusive interview with Gordon Donne, the man
we all now call boss.”

The screen cut to the same shot of Lindsey and Gordon Donne on the
chairs in the Oval Office.

“Mr. Donne,” Lindsey began, “some people are still
confused about your fix for Social Security. Can you clear that up
for them?”

“Sure, Lindsey. First, we eliminate the cap on earnings
subject to the tax, we include investment income and capital gains,
we drop the rate to five percent, and we exclude the first 20,000
dollars from that tax. Then --”

The screen cut to a medium closeup of Lindsey in the studio.

“If you want to find out more on that, we'll be running the
whole interview on this show next week, on Friday, March 16th. Be
sure to mark that on your calendar. But now, back to Rene and her
guest, the mother of the eight-year-old girl who was arrested by
Dallas police for operating an unlicensed business by charging
neighborhood kids a quarter each for rides in her back yard on her
imported Egyptian camel. Rene, what's the deal with that?”

-97-

Five Months Earlier

Monday, October 10, 2011

10:55 p.m.

Cyberspace

The Instigator finished editing the latest in his series of emails,
added the appropriate attachment, leaned back in his chair and hit
SEND.

This email, similar to the others, read as follows:

“Dear Sir/Madam(s):

“This is to advise you that the enclosed document will be
included in a forthcoming publication, and will be delivered
simultaneously to law enforcement authorities and to the press, not
only in your country of residence, but around the world.

“Nothing you can do can stop this process, but I can. I can
also solve the problem for you … permanently. However, since
there is great personal risk and danger involved for me and/or
whichever of my associates actually performs the action, it will be
costly for you. In fact, the price is a non-negotiable 20 million
euros, ten million as a nonrefundable deposit, the balance due upon
completion.

“I am sure, once you have perused the attached document, you
will see that that is a minor cost for you compared to the damage
that publication and distribution of that information could do to
your organization and/or to you and your associates personally.

“While this email address is untraceable (and I suggest
strongly that you make no effort to try; you will regret the result),
you may reply to it. I am in no rush for your decision, but the date
of publication is coming upon us very quickly, and that should inform
and hasten your deliberations.

“Please be advised that the attached document includes some
documents which the United States has classified, some up to the
level of Top Secret/NOFORN, but I have redacted any information which
could in any way reveal the identities of confidential informants or
foreign assets who may have contributed information contained
therein. However, that information is currently in my possession,
and once your current problem has been solved to our mutual
satisfaction, we may (I emphasize MAY) be willing to provide those
identities to you in the future, at a price to be negotiated at that
time.

“Once I have received your reply, I will provide you with
contact information and the process you will use to deliver the
deposit and finalize the contract. Take your time.

“Sincerely, The – no, you don't need to know that.”

After sending the email, the Instigator shut down his PC, took his
glass of very expensive wine to his recliner, switched on the hi-def
TV and settled in to watch the local news and weather. Once the
sports segment began, he turned the TV off, sipped the last of his
wine, rinsed the glass and headed up to bed.

-98-

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

1:30 p.m.

The White House

Washington, DC

via a 24-hour news channel

Gordon Donne strode into the Press Room and directly to the podium,
dressed casually, as usual.

“My fellow Americans, members of the press, it's a pleasure to
meet with you all again.

“I'm sure you all know that February's jobs report, released on
the 2nd, showed even better job growth than January had. We had a
net gain of 613,000 jobs, even with the offset of 153,000 job losses
in the federal government; that means the private sector added about
766,000 jobs in the month. Bravo!

“Now, two reminders. First, the new national sales tax begins
in about two weeks, so if you want to stock up on things before that
goes into effect, now's the time. Word to the wise.

“The other reminder has to do with the announcement I made last
month of the corrupt proceeds clawback program. The deadline for
taking advantage of the reduced penalties is April 3rd, about two
weeks from today, and compliance has been, as we expected, only
minimal. So if you have even the remotest idea that you might be on
our list, you've got only two weeks before we start coming after you
with the big penalties. Another word to the wise, okay?

“And a big thank you and keep at it for all the investigative
journalists whose ongoing efforts at unearthing corruption, current
or historical, have helped us expand that list. Keep at it, guys and
gals, okay? And thanks in advance for all your help.