The Last Election (7 page)

“
Vaya
con Dios
, Senator,” whispered Jorge, and he and his two partners snickered.

Chapter 11

“Congratulations on the big win, A.K. I’ve got to hand it to you, your campaign has been superb,” said Clark.

“Thanks, Sam. That means a lot coming from you. You know a large part of my success came from the ideas I borrowed from your gubernatorial campaign in ’08,” Kirk replied, placing special emphasis on the word ‘borrowed.’

“Yeah, about that…” said Clark, as both he and Kirk laughed.

“No, seriously, Sam, there is no one in the government I respect more than you.”

“The feeling is mutual, my friend. Remember, I owe you my life.”

“Did you ever think while we were fighting our way through the jungles of Vietnam that someday we’d be running against each other for the presidency?”

“No way, I was just thinking about staying alive.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Kirk said with a smile. Then he switched gears and said, “Sam, the country has never been in worse shape. This election will be the most important election in a hundred years. The American people have been through so much hardship. We owe them the opportunity to regain respect for the presidency.”

Clark agreed. “You’re absolutely right. I give you my word A.K., there will be no mudslinging during my campaign.”

“I already knew that,” said Kirk. “Rest assured there will be no dirty tricks coming out of my campaign, either.”

Kirk’s plane was now number one for takeoff. The engines whined as the pilot hit the throttle, and the plane sped down the runway. As the plane approached the end of the runway the pilot pulled back on the yoke and the plane climbed into the morning sky.

“We’re taking off, Sam,” said Kirk. “Thanks again for the call. I’ll see you in…”
 
Alexander Kirk, U.S. Senator and presidential hopeful, didn’t get to finish his sentence. His plane was no more than 100 feet off the ground when it exploded in an enormous ball of flames.

Chapter 12

“I’ll see you in…” was the last thing Clark heard before the line went dead.
That was weird, it didn’t sound like a lost connection. Too much other noise.

“Hello? Hello?” said Clark as he fiddled with his phone.
What in the world happened?

He was about to get up when his secretary unexpectedly burst into the room. “Sir, sir, you’ve got to see this!” Emily was visibly shaken and her hands trembled as she pointed the remote control toward the television in Clark’s office.

“Emily, are you okay?”

“Oh my God, sir, this was on Fox News Live. It just happened,” she cried as she flipped the channel to Fox News. She turned and looked at Clark with tears flowing down her cheeks. “They are reporting that Senator Kirk’s plane crashed on takeoff.”

Clark stared at the television in utter disbelief.
This cannot be happening!
He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. As he watched a news clip showing the accident, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Another clip was shown immediately after the first but this time in slow motion. Clark was stunned.
I was just talking to him!

“That was not a crash! Look at it! It just exploded. That was not a crash!” yelled Emily as they watched the footage play over and over. Clark walked over to Emily and put his arms around her. She was sobbing terribly, and her hands were still shaking. She buried her head into his chest, still sobbing, “That was not a crash.”

Brett Mason had sprinted down the hall and into Clark’s office. Together they watched the reports coming in live now from the site of the plane’s wreckage. The first reporter on the scene said what everybody already knew, “There is no way anyone could have survived this crash.”

Clark was floored. He wanted to speak but no words would come out. Fox replayed the footage again and again of the plane lifting off and then bursting into flames. Mason turned to Clark and said, “That didn’t look like an accident to me. My gut feeling tells me someone brought down that plane intentionally.”

“Duh!” sobbed Emily as she held her palm toward the television. Clark remained speechless.

Dozens of ambulances and fire trucks were now being shown racing toward the wreckage. Far off in the distance, a tanker truck could be seen heading in the other direction.

Clark was finally able to speak. He said just one word, “Bonsam.”

Chapter 13

The death of Senator Alexander Kirk shocked the entire nation. Across the country people were glued to their television sets. There was around-the-clock coverage on every cable news network. Even the broadcast networks cut into regularly scheduled programming to cover the event non-stop. Stories poured in showing people’s reaction to the horrible news. Everyone who was anyone in Washington, D.C. was being interviewed about the tragedy surrounding Kirk’s death. Baffled experts tried to explain what might have gone wrong in the air.

Governor Sam Clark watched the news reports, still in disbelief. Brett Mason and Emily Kates watched with him. Emily’s grief had not let up since yesterday’s disaster and every report showing someone devastated by Kirk’s death made her cry even more. Even Clark and Mason got choked up while watching the footage of hundreds of citizens converging on Columbia, South Carolina, to lay flowers at the door of Kirk’s campaign headquarters.

Much of the coverage was still focusing on the plane crash. National Transportation Safety Board investigators were being shown on the scene. The NTSB spokesman repeatedly reported that the official investigation had just begun and it would take some time to complete. He added that in all his years of experience, crashes of this nature were typically due to mechanical failure, but at this point it was only speculation.

Mechanical failure or not, conspiracy theories abounded throughout the media. They listened to the reports as people described their suspicions that there was foul play involved in the plane crash.

“If they determine that the explosion was from a bomb, I can’t wait until they find out who was responsible. I hope they string ‘
em
up,” Emily said angrily. “I was going to vote for Senator Kirk.”

Clark and Mason simultaneously raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances with one another after that remark. Just then, the coverage of the crash site was interrupted and the scene switched to the station’s news desk. The banner across the bottom of the screen displayed Breaking News in big bold letters. The lead anchor announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, this just in. President Emmanuel Bonsam will be making a statement to the nation regarding the horrible tragedy that claimed the life of Senator Alexander Kirk. We now take you live to the White House Briefing Room.”

Clark and Mason glanced at each other again. “This should be interesting,” said Mason.

The scene flashed to the Briefing Room. Pete Stratton, the president’s press secretary was already fielding questions. “At this time we have nothing more to report on the cause of the crash. The National Transportation Safety Board investigators are still sifting through the wreckage, which is strewn across an area over half a mile long. The NTSB spokesman has stated that it will take several weeks to determine the exact cause of an incident of this magnitude.”

The pool of reporters simultaneously fired off a barrage of questions so loudly that Stratton could barely be heard over the din. “Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, please hold all further questions,” he said. Stratton looked to his right and signaled to someone off screen, then returned his attention to the press corps and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed as he watched President Bonsam step up to the podium. He frowned as he watched Bonsam stand before the press pool with a smug air of superiority.

“My fellow Americans,” he said solemnly. “Yesterday our nation suffered a tragic loss with the death of Senator Alexander Kirk. Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family and the families of the other passengers and crew members who were aboard the ill-fated flight. I am ordering that the flag be lowered to half-staff for the next ten days in memory of Senator Kirk.” Bonsam then paused and bowed his head.

Clark was shocked. Bonsam came across as sincere in both his voice and mannerisms, and he kept the message brief and to the point. Even Mason noticed and said, “Wow, that wasn’t half bad.”

 
Bonsam raised his head and continued. “Senator Kirk was the longest serving member of the United States Senate and a close personal friend of mine.”

“Uh-oh, here it comes,” said Mason under his breath.

“I assure you, his death will not be in vain.” Bonsam’s demeanor slowly changed, and his voice became deeper and louder. “I, as your president, will continue to boldly lead this nation into a glorious, prosperous future!”

Clark stared at the television as he watched Bonsam arrogantly babble on about his amazing leadership. He could not believe that the president would take a somber moment such as a tribute to Senator Kirk and turn it into a self-aggrandizing spectacle. “That bastard,” he said as he turned and walked away in disgust.

As Clark walked off, Mason said, “Oh by the way Gov, the Secret Service is doubling your detail.
 
They don’t want to see another candidate involved in any ‘accidents’ like Senator Kirk’s.”

Chapter 14

Jorge Delgado had barely slept since he left Reagan National Airport two days before. He was still so full of adrenaline that he could barely sit still. He always felt a surge of energy after a hit, but the Kirk assassination was the mother of all hits. He was ready to climb the walls. He looked out the windows of the SUV as it made its way through the Maryland countryside.
I need to be calm,
I am about to meet with my boss.

As the miles rolled by, Delgado’s mind wandered. He thought about his life as a boy growing up in Oakland. He never knew his father, and his mother had raised him alone. Consuelo Delgado spent years working in a factory to provide for her son, a factory that was more like a sweatshop. She was just another lowly
señorita
in the unending rows of illegal Mexican immigrant women who sat at their sewing machines stitching garments fourteen hours a day.
     
 

Delgado’s life in the barrio was rough, but he was headstrong and he didn’t let anyone push him around. He did the gang thing, but he had seen too many of his friends die in gang violence. He knew that staying in a gang was a certain death warrant, and he was smart enough to find a way out. He enlisted in the Navy, and soon thereafter became a member of a Sea Air and Land Team. He excelled as a SEAL and participated in several black operations that were so sensitive that there were no records of the operations’ existence.

He smiled as he thought back on the many exhilarating adventures he had had as a SEAL. He was smart, tough, physically fit, and good with a gun or a knife. His specialty was demolitions. He could place an explosive anywhere. “Just ask Senator Kirk,” he thought to himself.
 

He loved being in the Navy; however, there was a dark side. The Navy denied its existence but it was there – racism. There was discrete but persistent discrimination against Hispanic and Black SEALs. His commitment to the Navy had always been tempered by his utter disdain for those, who in spite of their shared passion for defending the nation, believed that they were somehow superior to minorities. Even though it ate away at his soul, Delgado was able to suppress his anger toward the prejudiced dickheads who tried to make his life miserable.

Although Delgado was very adept at keeping his emotions regarding race relations in check, his inability to deal with the inept authority that he sometimes encountered led to his downfall in the military. He was on a covert mission in Afghanistan when a cracker lieutenant gave an order that would have gotten their entire team killed. When Delgado objected, the lieutenant called him a wetback. The lieutenant received a broken jaw and Delgado received a dishonorable discharge.