Wired (18 page)

“It's a small group, but I think it's going to grow fast. When this word gets out, it's going to create a big stir.”

“Look, son. The times are going to get worse, much tighter with far, far greater security. You've got to be careful. Some
people would be very upset if they heard these explanations.”

“Why?” Matthew frowned. “We're not doing anything but studying an ancient book.”

“I know. I know, but the world is spinning out of control, and there are some people out there who want to bring it under
their domination. You have no idea what they might be willing to do to stop the spread of this story you've just told us.”

Matthew leaned back in his chair and frowned for the first time. “Maybe that's why this group is so secret. Someone has already
figured out that we could get into some kind of trouble.”

Graham put his hand on Matthew's shoulder. “Take them seriously, son! This is no time to be playing with explosive and dangerous
ideas!”

T
HE BALLROOM
of the Mid-America Exposition Center only blocks from the reelection offices of Mayor Bridges overflowed for the celebration
of the local and national election results. Balloons floated across the gigantic room and streamers hung from the rafters
far overhead. Around the mammoth room, monitors placed at the top of the ceiling flashed the returns from across America as
well as Chicago. Periodically a local band would break into a number and people would start dancing. Secluded in the back
of the building, Bridges huddled with his closest advisors.

“We've clearly won.” Jake Pemrose sorted through the numbers coming in on his monitor. “No question about it.” He puffed on
his black cigar. “We're the big winners.”

“But what's the margin?” Bridges pushed. “Just winning isn't enough.” He stood up and walked over to a mirror to look at his
tuxedo tailored in a turn-of-the-century style that reflected the stability and prosperity of another day.

“Man, you're tough tonight,” Al Meacham said. “After all a win is a win. Isn't it?”

Bridges shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“Hey!” Jack Stratton said with a cynical twist in his words. “Frank, we can keep our machine running. What more could we want?”
He gulped a beer sitting in front of him.

Bridges shot a cold-eyed glance loaded with meaning at Graham Peck. In an instant Graham concluded that Stratton and Meacham
knew nothing about the arrangement Bridges had made with Borden Carson. The mayor's interest in the White House wasn't obvious
to them. Pemrose might know, but he was he only one.

“I'm going out there to make any statements until we are at least fifteen points ahead of the margin I won by in the last
election,” Bridges said. “I have something special to say and I want that big of an edge to make my point.”

Stratton rubbed his forehead nervously. “That's a pretty good swath, Frank. I don't know.”

“That's where I'm standing,” Bridges said emphatically. “Let me know as soon as we get those numbers.”

“I'm going outside to talk to my wife,” Graham said. “If you need me, buzz me on my pager. It may be hard to hear out there.”

The mayor nodded. “Enjoy yourself Graham. You've done a great job on the campaign. Have a good time.”

Graham quickly walked out of the room. He didn't like the smoke-filled conferences and Pemrose's arrogance bothered him. The
noise in the ballroom was better than sitting around in the cigar smoke generated by Bridges's boys. Looking for Jackie, he
walked into the back of the ballroom. On the south side of the hall the national election numbers were pouring in over the
television screen. Clearly their party was also carrying the U.S. Senate.

“Graham!” Jackie yelled. “Over here!”

Just beyond a wild conversation among a crowd of celebrants, Graham could see Jackie sitting next to one of the exit doors.
Pushing through the people, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her outside into the night air.

“I can't even think in that riot, much less talk,” Graham said and kissed her on the cheek. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

“Thank you, Graham. I wore this gown just for you.”

“It's beautiful.” Graham smiled. “I'll be glad when the big party is over and we can get out of here.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Did you make sure Mary listened to the recording of our conversation with Matthew?”

“She groaned and complained, but I made her listen to every word. Of course, none of her friends' families function as a unit.
She wants to be a lone wolf like buddies.”

“And?” Graham motioned with his hand for Jackie to say more.

“Religious ideas turn Mary off. She got rather nasty and I was forced to stand firm.”

“I don't care what she thought,” Graham retorted angrily. “We are a family and Matthew has up with information that we can't
ignore. She'll listen whether she likes it or not.”

Jackie nervously ran her hands through her hair. “I don't know what to think of it myself. Everything Matthew showed us makes
sense, but who takes the Bible seriously?”

“Millions of people once did, Jackie. Maybe that's where we started going wrong.”

“I can't put it all together. I am terrified by what the world is turning into. On the other hand, the Bible seems like such
an antiquated, ancient book to have anything to say in our contemporary world.”

“I know,” Graham said. “I know, but Matthew has given us more concrete direction than anyone and it came out of that book.
We can't overlook the facts.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we ought to go back inside.”

Jackie slid her arm inside his. “Okay, let's join the hullabaloo.”

Walking back inside, they found the gathering had only grown in size. Balloons kept popping and some of the streamers from
high up on the ceiling broke loose and drifted toward the floor adding to the sense of organized chaos. Most of the people
had been drinking and were talking or shouting far too loud. Jackie and Graham stayed close to the back door.

Television screens flashed the numbers, suggesting a national landslide and, for Bridges, smashing returns from all over Chicago.
Fifteen minutes later an anchorman announced that Frank Bridges would appear momentarily.

“Is Frank descending from heaven or walking on water when he enters?” Jackie asked cynically.

“He's arriving in a chariot of fire.”

Suddenly Mayor Frank Bridges burst through a curtain in the center of the ballroom. Instantly, his face appeared on every
television screen along with his wife and two adult children. For five minutes, he marched back and forth across the platform
like a triumphant gladiator while the mob screamed their applause.

“He's the big winner,” Jackie said. “No question about it.”

“You've got it,” Graham answered dryly. “On to Washington!”

The noise started to subside and Bridges began motioning for people to become silent. It took another full minute for the
throng to settle down.

“I just received a congratulatory phone call from my opponent wishing us success in the next term,” Bridges began and the
herd shouted their acceptance.

“We cannot afford to sit on our laurels.” Bridges's voice instantly changed from the sound of a winner, to again becoming
the serious candidate selling his audience a new set of ideas. “The times are too dangerous!”

The crowd murmured their concurrence.

“As we have seen in recent days, Chicago is vulnerable to attack. As many as a thousand boats float into our harbors nearly
every hour. Possibly only two percent are inspected.” Bridges shook his head emphatically. “A dirty bomb smuggled in on one
of those vessels and detonated in our harbor could contaminate this entire metroplex for a century! Anyone can see our problem.”

Once again the mob moaned and groaned. Obviously, they were completely with Bridges.

“Petroleum needs continue to be pressing.” Bridges stopped and let the pause settle. “But I have anticipated these needs and
have already prepared a response.”

The crowd exploded in cheers and applause again, sounding like he could propose they walk off the edge of the universe and
all would join lockstep behind him.

“Many of you are acquainted with Borden Camber Carson and his petroleum empire. Mr. Carson has assured me that our needs in
the Chicago metroplex will receive his personal attention and we will be supplied at the lowest possible price.”

Once again Bridges's supporters rocked the room with wild, enthusiastic applause. The noise of their support was being transmitted
across America via the television networks and it sounded like Bridges was Everyman's messiah of the hour.

“Further”–Bridges cleared his throat and waited for the noise to subside again– “I have already put in motion a series of
steps to further insulate you form attack. We are going to make Chicago the safest city in the world by installing a system
of increased surveillance to make sure no one can be attacked without that information being instantly transmitted to the
police headquarters. In addition, Mr. Carson will help us with the expense.”

The crowd shifted from radical support to near mass hysteria. Bridges had in effect just said “I won, and I'm taking over
everything in sight,” and the public had screamed their acceptance.

Sitting in the corner with his wife, Graham remained silent but he kept looking around the room, wondering if the election
headquarters had turned into an insane asylum.

“What do you think?” Jackie asked, putting her mouth to Graham's ear.

“I'm troubled, deeply troubled. We need to get out of here. This place is a nut house. I've got a great deal to think about
tonight.” Graham reached for Jackie's arm and headed for the exit.

T
HE DAY-AFTER-THE-ELECTION
party at Mayor Bridges's headquarters rolled on with the same raucous blowout that had erupted the night before. The mayor
had conveniently ducked out of the office, but the staff and secretaries kept the wild binge spinning. Graham Peck arrived
at the office an hour late because he didn't expect much work to get done that day. When he walked in, the party was going
full tilt.

“Happy days are here again…” One of the men stood up on his desk and sang the old political song as loud as a drunken sailor.
Several other rather well-looped men surrounded him and hummed along. The group looked like a fraternity quartet, preparing
to launch into an interplanetary orbit.

Graham watched the scene for a moment, thinking it looked almost like at any moment the entire office would turn into a Roman
orgy. To Graham the scene seemed to show how drastically the society had changed in the last thirty years. Increased casualness
and loss of significant personal relationships had turned into a world where frivolity, spontaneity, and pleasure ruled the
day. Any opportunity for amusement or diversion was seized as a personal right. Looseness invaded every encounter. Men and
women stood intertwined and sequestered in the dark corners of the office Graham didn't like the picture, but he realized
there was nothing he could do on this “morning after” blast except get out of the way.

Ducking his head, he hurried to his office and shut the door behind him. At least, his suite was secluded. Graham stood there
in the silence and thought about what he heard Bridges say last night and shuddered. Those stupid local supporters of the
Bridges's campaign had no idea that they were wildly applauding the installation of “the eye” in every corner of their lives.
Their homes, their offices, the streets, stores, and even subways would be wired with cameras watching everything. Rather
than applaud, they should be boarding up their windows.

Abruptly the door burst open. “There you are!” Sarah Cates giggled. “You should have gotten here earlier. What a party!”

Graham studied her for a moment. She had obviously been drinking heavily and looked well past the edge of sobriety. Sarah
had a wild, carefree gleam in her eye.

Shutting the door behind her, Sarah grinned. “What's up today, boss?” She sauntered across the room toward him. “Surely, we're
not going to work this morning.”

Graham cleared his throat. “Well, I guess most of our Work is finished as far as the election goes, but I know there will
be other…”

“
Really?
” Sarah suddenly slid directly in front of him and lightly stroked the side of his face. “Graham, the only thing wrong with
you is that you're always so distant.”

Graham felt the warmth of her hand caressing his cheek. He had carefully avoided sending Sarah any suggestive signals, but
she was a very attractive woman, too attractive to be standing nearly on top of him. “Wh-what?” he sputtered.

“You've enticed me like… I believe they once said… like a moth to the flame.” Sarah's voice settled into a husky, lusty
quality. “
You always have
.” Her other hand gently touched his tie and then moved up to the other side of his face. “And I don't want someone as gorgeous
as you to disappear.” Sarah pulled his head forward and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

Graham didn't move. At first he was shocked and then he realized how much he enjoyed the kiss, but his wits kicked in and
he pulled back. “Sarah… please.” He caught his breath. “You've been drinking too much and we're both married.” He pointed
at the door. “I want you to go back outside and we'll both pretend this didn't happen. Understand?”

Sarah's eyes widened and she blinked several times. “I'm not playing with you, Graham. Everyone has lovers today and here
I am offering myself to you.”

Graham rubbed his chin. “Sarah, please go back to your desk.” He stumbled at choosing the right words.

“Now?”

“Yes.” Graham nodded his head. “
Right now
.”

Sarah started backing away with a hurt look on her face. “Look. I wouldn't tell anyone and we both know everyone does this
sort of thing today,” she pleaded. “You really turn me on and I just knew that…”

“I'm married and that puts me off limits. Please go back to your desk.”