Running With The Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters (11 page)

It took a moment for Kurt’s question to sink in as all Muddy could think about was the cleared out apartment, “It was nothing, Kurt, just a little research on some legislation coming my way. I wanted some fresh eyes on it is all. Lined up nicely with some development planning Mr. Paulsen had expressed interest in when we met. I always look to give an opportunity when I can. This is all pretty bizarre, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know if I would say bizarre, Mr. President, happens down here more than you’d think. These kids come in dreaming of glory in the White House and find themselves doing administrative work for little pay and long hours. A lot of them burn out and head for home when it gets to be too much,” Jeff said.

“Seems reasonable, Jeff, thanks for your input,” Muddy said. “Well, I’ve got stuff that needs my attention so I will leave you to it.” Muddy endured another handshake and turned to leave with Kurt and his detail and when he paused. “Say, Jeff, one more question, did you clean up Ezra’s desk?”

“Oh, no, sir, there is a crew that takes care of that after hours once we terminate an employee’s access.”

“When does that happen?”

“As soon as we are aware the person is leaving, there are no two-week notices down here. In Mr. Paulsen’s case, which was a ‘no call, no show,’ access would’ve been cut off an hour into the work day. It’s done for security purposes,”

“Makes sense,” Muddy said, “But why leave the picture?”

“Pardon me, sir?”

“This photo,” Muddy said, going back to the desk and holding up the picture of Ezra and the unknown woman.

“Oh,” said Jeff, “I, um, really don’t know why they would have left it. I’ve never asked but I always assumed they boxed up personal belongings and mailed them to the address we have on record. I can take care of it for you, sir,” Jeff said and reached for the photo.

“Nope!” Muddy shouted, causing everyone to jump. “I mean, thank you,” he said, holding the photo in a death grip. “But I will take care of it. Make sure it gets back to Mr. Paulsen. I intend to enclose a letter wishing him well; just something I like to do when those in my employ choose to pursue other opportunities.”

“Yes, of course, sir, as you wish, that’s a very nice touch,” Jeff said, though Muddy could clearly read his expression. The man thought he was nuts.

“Mr. President?” a soft voice chimed in from the cubicle next to Ezra’s workspace.

Muddy turned to see a woman standing up inside her cubicle. She was so short he could only see the top half of her face, “Yes?” he asked.

“I am sorry to interrupt but I put the picture on Ezra’s desk. I wasn’t here Wednesday but when I got here on Thursday it was on my desk. I thought he was playing a joke so I just put it back. I thought it was weird his desk was empty but I didn’t really give it much thought.”

“What time did you get here on Thursday?”

“The usual time, everyone is in by 7:00 AM.”

“And the desk was already empty?” Muddy asked.

              “Yes, sir,” she said. Muddy raised an eyebrow at both Kurt and Jeff.

              “I don’t know what to say, Mr. President,” Jeff said, looking stumped. His curly hair bobbing as he thought about it. “Maybe our security protocols were changed?”

              Kurt added, “I can look into it, sir.”

              “Please do that, Kurt, also, I want to see all video surveillance we have on Ezra from the last few weeks up until his desk was cleared out, can you do that for me?”

              “I can but it may take a while, sir.”

              “See that it doesn’t, Kurt, also when I say video footage, I do mea
n
everything
we have, when he arrived, when he left, what he did while he was here, everything, got it?”

              “Absolutely, sir,” Kurt said.

Muddy wasn’t making many friends today but he didn’t care. “Good,” he said. He took another look at the photo, stuck it inside his suit coat and walked away, Kurt and the rest of his detail jogging to keep up.

…

              The end of that verylong day found a very worried Muddy in his executive wash room splashing water on his face
.
What the hell had happened to Ezra
?
Kurt had gotten back to him on the video footage. There was none. It was like Ezra stopped existing as of two and a half weeks ago. He chided himself on his foolish decision to bring another person into the mess he was in. An innocent, unsuspecting person at that. At least Muddy believed that was the case. Perhaps Ezra Paulsen was involved the entire time and the Syndicate was just trifling with Muddy for amusement. Though, that seemed unlikely being that they seemed to have much larger things to focus on. He dried his hands and headed back to his office.

              He uttered a surprised gasp to find someone sitting in the chair behind his desk. “You can’t just buzz in here anytime you want,” Muddy shouted.

              Dick looked at him with calm, dead eyes, “I can do just about whatever the fuck I please, Muddy. You really need to get that through your thick head. Now take a seat,” he said pointing to a chair in front of the desk.

              “Get out of my chair, you fucking clown, before I toss you out!” Muddy yelled, fists clenched and pulse throbbing.

              Dick sighed but made no move to get up, “Threatening my person and calling me names is no way to greet your benefactor, Muddy.”

              “YOU ARE NOT MY BENEFACTOR!” Muddy screamed and dove across the desk. He plowed into Dick who met him in wide-eyed surprised as they both crashed to the floor knocking the big chair over in the process. From there it was a wild scrum of elbows, knees and teeth as both men struggled for the upper hand. They finally separated as Dick delivered an impressive upper cut to the President’s belly while at the same time Muddy smashed an elbow into Dick’s nose. They both rolled away dazed, hurt and cursing.

              “I thig you brog my node,” Dick mumbled as he stared at the ceiling and tried to staunch the fountain of blood streaming down his face.

              “Good,” the President wheezed, rolling on his side to cast a wary glance at the other man. “Where the fuck is my security detail?” Muddy shouted at the door to the Oval Office. Kurt and crew should have kicked the door down at the first raised voice.

              Dick walked over to a mirror, carefully placed his fingers into position on his face and let out a little scream as he pushed his nose back into place. Then he hobbled over to a catering tray and tore two strips out of a cloth napkin and placed them gingerly into his nostrils, effectively stopping the bleeding. “They know better than to interrupt me when I am here,” he said, sounding like he had the worst cold of all time. His eyes were starting to swell.

              At least now Muddy knew he couldn’t trust his security detail. He got to his feet and squared up to meet Dick again, “Just tell me what the fuck you are doing here so you can get out, you are nothing but a glorified messenger. One I wouldn’t have any qualms about killing by the way.”

              “Kill me?” Dick shouted but made no move to engage Muddy again physically. “You think you could kill me? I am afraid you’ve forgotten the terms of our arrangement.
You
are the person with everything to lose!”

              “We have no arrangement, Dick!” Muddy shot back, “Unless you’ve been the evil mastermind behind everything from the beginning. But no, that isn’t possible is it?”

              Muddy could see Dick struggling for a clever retort, his lips moved but no sound came out. Perhaps the viciousness of Muddy’s sudden attack had thrown Dick for a loop and he wasn’t sure he still held the upper hand. “No, Dick, it isn’t possible because the truth is, you aren’t smart enough.” Muddy started laughing and pointing, fully aware of how childish he sounded but not caring. It was nice to see the other man sweat for a change.

              “Think you’ve got it all figured out, Muddy?” Dick hissed, “You just wait and see what happens if you don’t get your poop in a group and stop messing with things you don’t understand. You ever play baseball, Muddy? In baseball its three strikes and you’re out but with these fucking people you get one, maybe two strikes if you’re real damn lucky.”

              “What the fuck is your point?”

              “Ezra Paulsen was strike one for you, Muddy. That’s why I am here. You are one of the lucky ones, you get another chance. I am guessing that is
only
because of what a major pain in the ass it would be to replace you.”

              Muddy’s guts turned to ice as Dick confirmed what he had feared. “What did you do to Ezra?” he asked. It was hard for him to speak he was so angry.

              Dick smiled and put his palms up in a shrug, “I didn’t do anything to him. You did when you sent him off to do the dirty work you were too afraid to do on your own.”

              “Is he dead?” Muddy’s voice quavered as he wrestled with his emotions. He was not one for crying but things did seem to be headed in that direction. It didn’t appear Dick was going to answer his question. The man had gone to the cabinet where Muddy kept his scotch, poured himself a drink and gulped it down. “I just want to know if he’s dead,” Muddy pleaded.

              The liquor seemed to help Dick regain his above-it-all composure. He favored Muddy with a long contemptuous look as he enjoyed a second drink. “Mr. President, sad to say but we don’t always get what we want.”

After Dick left, Muddy limped over to his desk, pulled the chair upright and sat down with a heavy thud. Massaging his temples and humming an old hymn softly to himself. He thought about sin and redemption and judgment and eternal damnation. He imagined his mother, a strict Baptist woman, staring down at him from Heaven with a cross expression on her face. It seemed clear enough, he was a gone goose in a hailstorm, and there would be no redemption. But it wasn’t the Safety First legislation or the rigged presidential race that was bringing him down. It was the face of Ezra Paulsen. A face Muddy was sure he would see every time he closed his eyes to sleep. He sighed and retrieved the photo he’d stashed in his desk drawer
.
What had they done to him? Was it painful or fast? He must have found something, otherwise why make him disappear?

              Muddy stared at the photo willing Ezra’s image to speak to him from within the confines of its two-dimensional prison
.
Why did you leave the photo? What are you trying to tell me
?
Needless to say the photo didn’t speak. Staring at the image of the woman, Muddy was again struck by how much they looked alike but Ezra hadn’t mentioned a sister. But then he thought of something. He dashed over to the stack of background files still sitting in a corner of the Oval Office. Ezra’s folder was still on the top.

              Ezra had told him he had been adopted at a young age. Muddy paged through the data until he found the adoption information a few pages in. Ezra had been adopted from a Catholic orphanage in the early ‘90s. His biological parents were Tony and Deborah Willis. He had a sister, Ruth Willis; she had the same date of birth, Ezra had a twin! Unfortunately, the trail ran cold from there as the folder indicated the biological parents were both deceased and Ruth Willis could not be located.

The siblings were a tale of two fortunes; Ezra had been adopted by a wealthy family while, apparently, Ruth had dropped through the cracks with social services. But Ezra had found her. The photo was evidence of that. Muddy continued to puzzle over the photo before finally removing the backing. It was a tight fit as he forced the cardboard out. A folded sheet of paper fell out and dropped to the floor. He set the frame and photo down, grabbed the folded paper and hustled to the washroom to read it privately.

              The rest room was the only place he felt safe anymore, convinced nobody would be interested in monitoring his bowel movements. He locked the stall door and sat down on the toilet seat and unfolded the scrap of paper. On it was an address
:
225 Irving Street, Park View, Apt. 4 – Corky
.
Muddy committed the address and name to memory, shredded the paper and flushed it down the toilet. Although he didn’t know who this Corky person was, he was convinced he would find Ezra’s sister there. Perhaps he had managed to leave her with a clue of whatever he’d found. The question was how to get there without being followed; the beginnings of a plan began forming in his mind.

              The Secret Service, a day late and a dollar short, were in the Oval Office when Muddy returned from the wash room. Kurt and three other agents were feigning alarm and concern at the office, which was in shambles from the disagreement he’d had with Dick.

              “Are you okay, Mr. President?” Kurt asked.

              Muddy glared at him until the other man looked away. “I’m fine, please get someone to clean this shit up. I will be requiring transportation if it isn’t too much trouble,” he snapped.

              “Are you sure that is the best idea, sir? Perhaps we should go into lockdown until we can be sure the White House is secure.”

              “We both know that isn’t necessary, please call down for my car.”

              “Might I ask where we’ll be going, sir?”