Dead Man Running (26 page)

"No, sir, I'm not."  Mueller smiled.  "Do you want to stop it?"

"Do I ever want to stop anything Bush and Cheney put in place?"

"I'll take that as a 'no'."

"We never discussed it," Obama said.  He met the man's eyes and Mueller finally nodded.  "Give me the quick version, Bob."

"Three separate significant others have made reports to the police.  The quick version is that they say that their significant other has been replaced by someone who looks and talks like the person but isn't the person."

"Invasion of the Body Snatchers?"

"Yes, sir, exactly.  We have pod people in
New York City
." Mueller did not crack a smile.

"What was the police's response?"

"Mostly hilarity, sir.  They took the report because they were afraid of being sued but they did nothing.  Problem is, in every case a few days later the person complaining came back in wanting to retract the report.  This pattern is what got the chief's attention."

"What did they do?"

"They spoke to the complainant, the person they were complaining about and any associates."

"And they found?"

"Nothing, sir.  The conversation we overheard, Kelly dropped the matter."

"But, if there is something to it…"

"Yes, sir.  I authorized an investigation. 
We've interviewed all the attendees of the Wiley event, the wait staff, kitchen personnel and hotel management.  We did
so without police knowledge and
under the guise that we were investigating suspected drug use at the celebration."

"Won't that get attention if it hits the papers?"

"Drug use by the NYC elite – no, sir, I don't think that is front page stuff."

"Anything come out of the interviews?"

"Nothing.  W
e didn't find any pod people,
Mr. P
resident." 
Mueller
laughed. 

"No zombies or ghouls?" asked Obama.

"None, sir. 
However, w
e were unable to
locate
four individuals – one money manager for a large investment bank and three members of the hotel staff."

"Are they reported missing?"

"One is,
sir,
an African American ma
le
who worked for the bank."

"Check for a white girl," Obama smirked. 

"Sir?"

"Brother probably booked with a white girl," he explained.
  Mueller wanted to smile but the expression on the president's face was serious.

"Yes, sir.  We'll follow-up on that." 

"The other three?"

"All
illegal
immigrants – a husband and wife from
Cameroon
, a female from
Costa Rica
.  Our working theory at this time is that they
either
moved on to other jobs or returned home."

"They never return home
,
"
Obama said with sadness in his voice.

"Yes, sir.  The funny thing is, their lockers still had their personal effects, their street clothes even."

"That is funny.  Africans don't like to give up their clothes.
  I would know.
"

"No, sir."

"Anything
t
here,
Bob
?  I want to get outta here.  We're going to visit a green company that I feel has a lot of potential.  It's called Solyndra."

"Nothing, sir.  I can find no issues with Mr. Wiley."

"Have you spoken to Ben?"

"No, sir.  Should I?"  Obama rubbed his chin, looked out the window at the brightening tarmac. 

"No.  The less said about this the better.  I'm already a socialist, a communist, a Kenyan and a Muslim
.
"
 
The men laughed.  "The last thing I need is to be a pod person." 

Mueller stood, shook his president's hand and exited the plane.  Moments later the plane was wheels up and zooming west.  The president relaxed with some light reading.  His mind, though, would drift often over the next five and a half hours, sometimes finding
it
considering the three sets of clothes left behind by the missing hotel workers. 

It would nag at him until the inconvenient thought was finally vanquished by the wonders found in Solyndra
's high tech factory
.

That evening, across the continent Janine Rhodes sat in her living room grading homework assignments from her fifth grade class.  She was dressed for bed – pajamas, robe and slippers.  She was comfortable on her couch with a pile of work before her and a glass of wine within arm's length. 

The assignment had been for the children to create an emergency evacuation plan in the event of fire or earthquake.  Most of her students lived in the Altadena Arms and their plans were very similar: get downstairs as quickly as possible and get clear of the building.  The only child who offered a different plan was Tamesha Holloway, one of Janine's favorite students.  The form asked the students to diagram their escape plans first for fire, then for an earthquake.  Tamesha had carefully drawn her escape path down the stairway closest to her twelfth floor apartment.  The child rightly noted that the elevators usually don't work and, even if they did, would not be safe.  Janine drew a smiley face near this statement. 

A refugee from
Altadena
, she knew the elevators were unreliable.  They had been so when she lived there in the 70's and 80's.

She had high hopes for Tamesha and prayed that she would survive the Arms.  The odds were low but Janine had faith in her Creator and felt that He wouldn't let all the good ones be destroyed.  Tamesha definitely was a good one.

At the bottom of the form was space for 'Other emergencies'.  Some of the children had taken the opportunity to describe what to do in the event the family was visited by gang bangers or the police.  Tamesha Holloway took the opportunity to describe her emergency procedure in the event 'monsters' showed up.

"Hide in the kitchen underneath the sink.  First clear out the cleaning stuff and make sure there are no mice or roaches."

Below Tamesha's words were a diagram of the kitchen and the sink.  An arrow pointed to where Tamesha would hide.

Janine corrected Tamesha's spelling and grammar and set aside the paper.  She would talk to the grandmother, Mrs. Thomas.  Perhaps there was something going on with a neighbor or relative?  

She took a sip of her wine, thought back to her days in the Arms.  There were many monsters there in her day, many more now.  She said a little prayer for Tamesha, imploring God to protect her from the monsters.

FOUR
TEEN

THE CAPITAL BUILDING -
WASHINGTON
DC
–
APRIL
2011

The Clerk of the House of Representative stood before Elias.  She was a middle aged black woman, heavyset with unfortunate rings of fat circling her neck.  Elias was taking his oath of office – representatives who join the session due to
the
death or resignation of a member get to take their oath alone on the House floor.  It was the crowning moment of his political career but all Elias Turnbull could think of at the moment was what a tasty meal this butterball of a woman would make for Wiley and his ever expanding army of undead minions.  He shivered,
and
barely kept his hand on the Bible held by Clerk Miller.

Finally it was done and Elias walked back to his office.  An orphan, he had no family to witness his triumph
.  The only witnesses were several of his fellow members milling about the Floor at this late hour – nearly nine o'clock in the evening – and two members of his congressional staff.  Wiley had converted his old staff to zombies and augmented the group with two
veteran
political hacks who he
had
converted in the Friday Night Massacre – what Elias and
Mira
jokingly called Wiley's murder and resurrection of
New York City
's power players. 

Two of these undead sharpies had accompanied Elias to his swearing in: Marty Rabinowicz and Mary Lewis-Crawford.  Rabinowicz had the appearance of an ancient rabbi – gray hair, ample paunch, slumped shoulders and ready smile.  He was anointed by Wiley as Elias' chief of staff.  He had been O'Donnell's go to man in the Mayor's Office and, surprisingly
,
considering that he was dead, Elias found him very engaging, creative and competent. 

Lewis-Crawford looked like she should be selling Girl Scout cookies.  She was small of stature with a wide, welcoming face.  She was
no beauty queen but her
homely appearance
disguised a
fierce intelligence.  She was a pit bull in a poodle's body.  Elias wondered, given her hyphenated name, what
had
happened to her husband?  P
erhaps
he was undead and assigned by Wiley to a task to best serve
the '
Wiley Way
'
?  Or he could have been lunch for his wife.

The trio walked underground to the
Rayburn
Building
.  They took a nearly empty elevator to the new congressman's second floor office.  Inside, working hard, were other wide mouthed members of Wiley's tribe.  His secretary, Louise Gibbs, who performed the same role for Ben Wiley, told Elias that
Mira
Hidar
waited in his office.  Elias indicated to his closest advisors that he would speak to Miss
Hidar
alone.  Elias found that zombies were not unaware of affairs of the heart.  The M&M team – Elias' pet name – each smiled and went about their business.

Mira
Hidar
stood when Elias entered the room.  "Congressman Turnbull," she said.

"You didn't call me that last night.  I think the phrase was 'chocolate stallion'." 
Mira
smiled,
wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him deeply.

"I wanted to be the first to congratulate you," she said.

He pulled her closer and they kissed again.  "Will I see you later?" he asked.  He knew with Wiley's confirmation hearings
beginning tomorrow morning
, it was unlikely that she would make an appearance in his DC apartment.

Mira
backed out of his arms, looked away.  "We have more prep to go over.  He's got it down but he wants it perfect."

Elias nodded, the gesture hiding his disappointment.  "The old Wiley would have read a one page brief thirty minutes before the hearing." 

He
smiled
and
thought of the good old days. 

That old alley cat
, all around bad boy
and consummate politician
Ben Wiley. 
The times he spent wheeling and
dealing with the boss.  H
anging with
buddies Chi and Mookie
watching the Knicks lose again
.  They were all dead now
.  He
was the survivor
but
stuck in some kinda hell.

Mira
broke into his reverie.  "That's not the old Ben Wiley.  He's better and he'll lead
America
down a
far greater
path."

Elias said, "I agree.  He is a great man now."  He said that for the benefit of the listening devices he knew
had been
planted in his office.  His words were fake but he sensed that
Mira
was a true believer.  He wanted more from their relationship – the 'friends with benefits' bullshit was getting old – but he realized he could not have more with her with her
as long as she was
aiding and abetting a megalomaniacal, mass murdering, power grabbing zombie.

He kissed her one last time, more chastely this time lest his sexual urges get the be
st
of him.  "You better get going," he said.  "You don't want to keep Ben waiting."

"Dinner tomorrow?" she asked with one hand on the doorknob.

"Dinner tomorrow," he responded and he watched her go.  He turned and looked out his window.  Soon he saw her exit the building.  His eyes watched her until she became a small dot before disappearing over the horizon.  He wondered why she did not have a car waiting, why she walked here from Wiley's temporary offices in the Treasury HQ.

He watched some more and finally convinced himself that she walked to gain a few more minutes of freedom from Wiley.  Maybe she and he shared the same thoughts about
the '
Wiley Way
'
? 

Time would tell.