The Senator: A Blake Jordan Thriller (2 page)

David Mitchell arrived at the United Center a few minutes before eight o’clock. This was his second attempt at trying to get into the arena. The first try was on Tuesday, the second day of the convention.

Mitchell hadn’t worked at the Tribune in over a year. A former colleague had spotted him and alerted security who escorted the man out of the building. Mitchell had used his old Tribune press pass to get through security and managed to stay through most of the second day of the RNC before being kicked out.

The man was tall with dark, slicked back hair that he hid underneath a baseball cap most of the time. But, tonight, David Mitchell wore a suit and tie to try and blend in with the other reporters at The Center.

He was fired last summer after embellishing many of the stories that he wrote. The interesting thing was that David Mitchell was a brilliant writer and a master storyteller. His pieces were fascinating to read on their own and didn’t need embellishment. It started out small, but over time, Mitchell got cocky and was eventually exposed.

After David Mitchell lost his job, he started his own Website. A cross between
HuffPo
and
The Drudge Report
. It became a huge success after he exposed the rampant crony capitalism between many Chicago-area businesses and government officials. Now he had something on Congressman Billings and was hoping to find a way to confront him. It didn’t take much these days to get a politician talking and then use the audio against them to sway the public’s opinion. That seemed to be the playbook to go by these days if you wanted to keep the other party from getting into office.

Mitchell walked up to the front entrance of the United Center. Being the fourth and final night of the convention, just minutes before Senator Jim Keller would be speaking, he knew this would be his best shot at getting in to catch up with Billings as he got off stage while all eyes would be on Keller.

David Mitchell approached security and presented his credentials and noticed it was different personnel who had escorted him out of the building two nights prior. “Press pass?” asked a man with the words
SECURITY
written in white across the black shirt he wore. A second man stood next to him, arms crossed, looking Mitchell over. Both men were off duty police officers working the event to make a few extra bucks.

“I’m with the Tribune,” he said as he handed over the press pass. Mitchell spoke confidently. Although the credentials were no longer valid, they weren’t counterfeit, which he thought would be the first thing security would be looking for. He also knew from prior experience that being confident could get you a long way and take you down paths where you didn’t really belong. He once walked right past security to watch a Cubs game at Wrigley Field by wearing dark sunglasses, pretending to be talking on a cell phone, and wearing a lanyard with a Cubs logo on it just for the thrill of doing it. And for the practice.

The off duty cop inspected the press pass for a few seconds and asked Mitchell for his driver’s license. The other security officer stepped away and spoke into a walkie-talkie. Just as the first officer was handing the press pass and license back over to Mitchell and about to let him through, the second officer returned.

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s the problem?” Mitchell asked, feigning ignorance.

“I recognize your name. You’re David Mitchell and you don’t work at the Tribune. You were escorted out on Tuesday.” Mitchell grabbed his license, but the first officer held onto the press pass.

“Look, I work for myself now. I run a news Website that gets even more traffic than the Tribune. I deserve to be here.”

The second officer reached for his radio and said, “Either leave now or you’ll be arrested for trespassing.”

Mitchell left and walked out into the massive parking area surrounding the United Center. He followed the path back to where he had parked his blue Honda VFR sports motorcycle. The bike was parked behind a large Chevy Suburban. As he approached it, he saw that he could see the side entrance to the building from where he was and noticed that there were two officers just inside. Mitchell climbed onto his bike and sat there for a few minutes, trying to figure out his next move.

From the moment Victor Perez climbed through the opening he carved in the wall and laid down inside, he knew this operation would require a great deal of patience. But staying still without making a sound for twenty hours straight was nothing compared the things he had been through in a prior life, one where he’d protect senators instead of kidnap them.

Perez could see Jim Keller through the grate as he paced the floor, back and forth, reciting parts of his acceptance speech. He could tell that the senator was nervous. He had studied him for months, listening to every speech he made, and he knew he often criticized the sitting president for not being able to read from a teleprompter. Keller practiced because he didn’t want to be a hypocrite and have to rely on his notes.

A minute later, the senator was interrupted by Jami who knocked on the door. “Yes?” Keller asked.

“We need to head downstairs.” Keller placed the small stack of index cards he had been using to memorize his speech on a table by the door.

“I need a few more minutes, Agent Davis.”

Perez heard the conversation a few minutes earlier that Agents Davis and Jordan had with the senator. He knew that Jordan had headed down and Davis was alone with Jim Keller. In just a few minutes, Senator Keller would leave the room, head downstairs to the convention floor, and he’d lose his chance forever. Months of planning. Hours laying perfectly still. The plan hinged on getting a break
right now
.

After Senator Keller put his notes down, he walked over to the window that overlooked the convention. Perez heard him take a deep breath and slowly let it out before walking over to the restroom in the suite. The senator closed the door behind him.
This is it! Now’s your chance!
Perez thought.
It’s now or never.
He moved quickly, but carefully, removing the air vent that he had covering the hole in the drywall that he had sawed a week before. He lowered the grate and slid it over to the side and crawled out.

In his right hand was a rag drenched in chloroform and tucked behind his back in his Dickies work pants was his Beretta. He’d use it if something went wrong. Extra ammo was in his duffle bag, still inside the wall. He replaced the grate which quietly snapped back in place. He had crawled out and was ready to go in under thirty seconds. Just like he had practiced. Everything was going according to plan.

The man hid behind the door waiting on the senator to come out. He could hear him washing his hands and whistling a tune. Inside, Jim Keller combed his hair and splashed water on his face. Perez could hear the senator telling himself to calm down. “It’s just the biggest speech of my career,” he muttered.

Just then, Agent Davis knocked on the door again. Perez dropped the rag and drew his gun and pointed it at the door. Senator Keller opened the door and yelled, “Almost ready.” As he walked out, Perez cold-cocked him in the back of his head with the butt of the gun. Keller fell, but Perez grabbed him by his jacket before he could hit the floor and make a sound. He quietly lowered the senator onto the ground.

Perez put the rag up to Keller’s face and left it there for a few seconds.
Just in case
.

He stuffed the rag into his left pocket, placed the gun behind his back, and dragged the senator a few feet over to the air vent which he removed and crawled into. This created marks in the carpet that had to be touched up. Perez pulled Keller through which wasn’t an easy task but was done quicker than he thought.

He took one last look around the room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. The room was clear. The only thing left behind was the senator’s index cards with his handwritten notes to a speech he’d prepared so long for. A speech constituents and party delegates from around the nation wouldn’t hear.

Victor Perez replaced the grate and disappeared.

I finished securing the path that the senator would soon be walking. I had decided earlier in the day that I would assign Davis to stay with Keller so I could focus on making sure he’d be safe as he travelled to the floor to speak to the crowd and also to all of America as every major news network was covering the event.

There was always a risk in speaking at a venue this large but securing the backstage area wasn’t too difficult. I walked the path the senator would take from his suite to the stage where he’d soon be speaking. Jami would be responsible for getting the senator to me and I’d take it from here. I scanned the crowd one final time to look for anything out of the ordinary. Security was doing a good job maintaining order with the revved up crowd. I was just about ready for Jami to bring Keller down.

At five minutes to eight, I put my hand up to my ear and radioed Agent Davis. “Is the senator ready?” I asked. A few seconds later she responded.

“He wanted a few more minutes.”

“No, the senator doesn’t have a few minutes, he’s supposed to start at eight. He should be here already, you need to move now.”

I stood to the side of the stage where I could see Congressman Billings wrapping up his speech. I was positioned in a way that the crowd and media couldn’t see me well but I could see them. Standard protocol. I continued to scan the crowd, especially the first few rows, looking for anything unusual.

Agent Davis knocked on the door. “Senator, it’s time,” she said. There was no response. “Senator Keller, we need to go now, sir,” Jami said and knocked on the door again. The senator still did not respond. I heard Jami’s voice through my earpiece. She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t understand what she said. The speech that Billings was giving was almost over. In his usual style, he got more passionate and progressively louder near the end. The congressman was being interrupted in between what seemed like every point he made by cheers from the crowd, which made it extremely difficult to hear anything.

“I did not copy,” I yelled into the earpiece. I had already started walking back, hoping to be able to hear better although the Congressman’s voice echoed everywhere. There seemed to be nowhere to escape to where I’d be able to hear any better than I was right now. Still, I headed closer to Jami.

“He’s not responding, Blake,” Jami yelled. That time she came in loud and clear. I walked faster as I arrived at the service elevator. There were escalators and stairs at the United Center but neither would take me as close to Keller’s suite as the elevator.

“What do you mean he’s not responding?” Jami tried the door.

“He’s not responding and the door is locked.”

“Kick it in,” I yelled just as the elevator doors closed.

There was a blackout period of about twenty seconds during the ride up to the third floor where I lost contact with Jami. No matter what federal agency you worked in, you still had to deal with outdated equipment like earpieces that don’t work in elevators. I drew my gun and pointed it at the elevator doors.

Twenty seconds doesn’t seem like a long time but I still managed to have a lot of thoughts during the short trip.
Why was the senator not responding? Why didn’t I stay with him and send Jami to secure the floor?
Billings finished his speech. I heard the crowd go wild, although the sound was muted inside the elevator. The backdrop of noise added to the confusion of the situation. I tried to stay focused on getting to Keller.

When I arrived at the third level, the elevator doors opened and I moved as fast as I could toward the executive suite, clearing every square foot that I travelled as I approached. I turned a corner and saw Jami inside the suite, also with her gun drawn. I stepped through the busted door. I watched as Jami’s eyes darted everywhere. I could tell she was just as confused about what was happening as I was. It didn’t make sense. How could a man disappear without a trace?

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Jami said. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “He’s gone.”

At first glance, the room was spotless. A television hung adjacent to a wall of glass that overlooked the entire convention floor. The suite doubled as a skybox during sporting events and was the kind of room presidents and dignitaries might watch a Chicago Bulls game from. The TV was on mute, but set to one of the major news channels covering the speeches at the convention. It was surreal watching live coverage of an event that I could see taking place from a window just a few feet away. For a moment a thought flashed across my mind.
The media would be all over this very soon if Senator Keller really was missing
.

“Are you sure he didn’t leave? You were here the whole time?” I asked.

“The whole time. I never stepped away.” Jami walked over to a table by the door, picked up a stack of index cards, and put them back down. There were no other exits, absolutely no way out.

“Blake!” I turned around and saw Jami crouched on the floor. I walked over and joined her. She pointed to three tiny red spots on the cream-colored carpet in the center of the room and I brushed my fingers across. They smeared.

“It’s fresh,” I said and immediately stood up and looked around the room.

Just then the air conditioner kicked on. I was sweating and a few seconds after I heard the click of the thermostat, I could feel the cool air blowing on me. Although it was starting to get cold outside, inside the arena and even in the suites, it got rather warm.

I noticed the air return and for some reason walked over to it. I placed my hand over the grille, expecting to feel the pull of air being sucked in but I felt nothing. Part of me thought that any second now I would feel something but as I stood there, my eyes focused on something else –
another return across the room
.

Jami saw what I was looking at. She walked over and put her hand on the grille. “I feel something, Blake.”

I bent down and grabbed the vent with both hands and pulled – it came right off and I was shocked to find a large hole that led to a long open space. I put my hand up to my ear. “This is Jordan, I need all exits on lockdown. Do you copy?” I yelled into my earpiece for the two men I had stationed at the side entrance as I crouched down and started to crawl into the hole. “Do you copy!?” I yelled again.

As I made my way into the opening, I could see light coming from the other side of the long space. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dark but once they did, I could see enough to crawl through.

“I need you to go to the front of the building and walk the perimeter. It may not be too late to stop this.”

“You don’t know where this leads or who’s at the other end if it, let me come with you,” Jami said and started to follow me.

“No – go to the front
now
!” I yelled back at her. Agent Davis stopped and turned back around. I could hear her run out of the room and down the hall.
What the hell was happening?
I thought to myself.

The space was tight but big enough to walk through, although I had to move hunched over and low to the ground. Drywall dust was all over me. About halfway down the pathway as I approached the other side and the light got brighter, I noticed something on the floor reflecting the light. It was blood.
Maybe the senator’s.

The closer I got to the end the more quickly I moved. I found what appeared to be another large grille and I assumed that it was designed to disguise another hole in the wall in whatever room this was in.

I slowed down and looked through. I didn’t know who, or what, might be on the other side. I saw a dimly-lit hallway. I couldn’t tell if anyone was there, but I was running out of time so I kicked out the grille and pulled myself out, gun drawn. Crouched again, I pointed my Glock 22 to one side of the hallway. Then I heard what sounded like a door close the other way. “Federal agent!” I yelled and started running.