The Whisper Box (13 page)

Anderson crawled out from under the table, which was dripping remains. He was disgusted by what he had just done. He had been trained to block the guilt out of his mind. In the past he was very good at this, but this time it bothered him. He checked the second room, saw no one and continued to move through the cabin. He thought he saw a restroom sign in the first room. He needed to find it and a first aid kit. At this point, he also needed a change of clothes, considering he could not walk through the airport dripping with blood. There was no one on this plane, yet he was still nervous about the possibility of passengers boarding. He felt certain Grant would be back soon.

Anderson found the restroom. Neatly tucked up under the countertop was a first aid kit. After unlatching it from its secured position, he slowly opened it with shaking hands. He unwrapped the moist napkins and scrubbed it across his cheek, just below his eye. The sight of himself made him sick as he stared in the mirror. Still, he stood before it, breathing heavily and wiping the blood from his face. All he could think about was his childhood again, questioning how he had gotten here. Timothy Anderson always tried to convince himself that he was still young enough to find a wife and have a child. He just killed a hard working man who had a family as he was pleading for his life. Now he was wondering how he could commit the same act again. He still had to kill Grant Winchester. The innocent boy, turned hit man was sure he would rot in hell. He reached for the gun he had placed back in its holster moments before, and put it to his head. Beads of tears were streaming through the blood, as they made their way down his face.

11

President Farnsworth sat at his desk mulling over the seven and a half years of his term. He knew that most voters thought he was a genius. He smirked at this thought. He knew damn well that he had walked into the perfect situation. Just before his speech on election night he told his wife that they were blessed. He knew that no matter how bad things got, it had to be better than the previous years during the term of President Marshall Swift, a Republican. Swift was a frivolous spender, often compared to the late President Milstone. The only way the country could go was up. He thought long and hard about his lucky streak, which he referred to as “Farnsworth's Luck.” The economy had to get better. The media had been calling for a change. He came in and made his changes based on advice from his cabinet. As a result, he had come out looking like a genius.

After a year in the White House, Farnsworth was starting to realize that anything he did was acceptable. The country, as according to the media, was so happy to have an economy headed in the right direction that it did not care what he did wrong. His record setting approval rating meant that most citizens gleefully accepted his faults, as long as he governed a strong state of affairs. In 1993 he had a brief affair with a White House aide, and it was obvious what was going on in the Oval Office. He knew that the media and his wife knew, but he also knew that everyone was so happy with his leadership that they would choose to keep the entire ordeal from the public.

If Farnsworth was impeached and removed from the White House, his Vice President, William Gilbert would take over. Vice President Gilbert was chosen as a running mate because of his ability to follow. He supported everything that anyone ahead of him stood for. He was a parrot, and with enough training, he would repeat whatever Farnsworth said to him. He was the perfect Vice-President for Farnsworth, but he was not a perfect fit for the Presidency. The media had to know it. Congress must have known it. The Senate surely knew it. Most importantly though, Farnsworth knew it.

President Farnsworth quickly began to feel invincible. He saw how his actions were affecting his marriage, but no longer cared. Knowing that his wife was riding his coat tails to fame and fortune made him even angrier with her. He made every effort to leak news to her about his affairs because he wanted her to feel the pain. Farnsworth became extremely sadistic as the years went on. Seeing others hurt kept him thriving and confident.

In 1975, Howard Farnsworth was elected to the 20th Congressional District of the United States of America in the state of Alabama. The election exhausted him. Running for an office was much harder than maintaining it. By the time he had won the election, he was in no mood to serve, so he immediately began to bully his way around his district. It was one of the smallest districts in Alabama. His first conquest was Roy Steel of Roy Steel's Auto World. Howard heard that Roy had been running fake inspections for years. The violations would have crushed Roy financially.

Before Howard Farnsworth was elected to anything he was a regular at Roy's. Roy tended to Howard whenever he came into his store. Roy was the class nerd, while big Howie Farnsworth was the hot shot Quarterback at Sloan High School in Blackburn, Alabama. Howard could tell that when respected gentlemen from high school came into the shop, it made Roy feel like “one of the guys,” a feeling he probably never had when he was in high school. Roy would do favors for good customers, and bogus inspections were one of them.

After Howard was elected, he strolled down to Roy Steel's Auto World. He sat Roy down in his office and told him that if he did not donate fifteen thousand dollars a year to the Blackburn Police Department then Roy's Auto World would be brought up on some “pretty nasty charges.” All Howard was doing was using Roy's money to pay the police department for his protection. Should any questions ever come up, Howard's hands were clean. Basically, he was running a small Mafia in Blackburn, Alabama.

Roy shook his head at his old friends' actions, but the fact was they were never friends. Everyone who graduated from Sloan High School in 1958 intimidated Roy. Howard was taking advantage of the squeamish man because there was nothing he could do. Farnsworth ran the media, the town, and the police. He could not move his business. He had to pay his
donations,
as they called it, each and every year. Roy would just learn to accept it as punishment for the hundreds of fake inspection stickers he had passed out over the years.

In return for Roy's donations, Howard Farnsworth received access to all the good things in life. Police never reported the hotel rooms or the prostitutes. They never interrogated Howard when someone turned up missing. Howard was immune to the law.

As Howard Farnsworth became more powerful, so did his hunger and need for more power. His second obstruction of justice came in 1978. After winning his re-election to Congress in a landslide victory, he needed to recoup some of his loses. His last congressional race had been one of the most expensive in the state. He tapped all of his personal, business, legal and illegal resources. In Jefferson, a town within his district, there was a doctor named Anson Ripple. Dr. Ripple had been well known as an extraordinary plastic surgeon. He would fly to New York, Washington, Atlanta, Los Angeles and every other major metropolis to perform his work. He was a millionaire who just preferred the quiet southern lifestyle that Alabama had to offer. He did not mind the travel because he could easily afford it.

In 1977 Dr. Ripple began performing abortions, but only in the state of Alabama. Again, he became well known for his splendid, almost flawless, work. Patients would travel hundreds of miles to his ranch in Jefferson, where he had a recovery room and everything else he needed set up on his estate. It was, in essence, his little hospital. There had been some disputes with the locals that he needed to acquire more licensing than he had. Townspeople were grumbling that no man should be allowed to just open a “chop shop” because he was wealthy and famous enough to do so. In reality, the people of Jefferson simply did not want their small town to become the abortion capital of the world.

One Sunday afternoon Howard took a drive up to Anson Ripple's estate. He sat down with Anson to discuss the situation, explaining, “Anson, I don't want you to lose your business. I know how much money you have, and I don't want to stop a man from making a living.”

Dr. Ripple was smiling from ear to ear. “Thanks Howard. Anytime I can make a contribution to your campaign, just call me, buddy. I'd be glad to show whose side I'm on with a donation.”

Howard Farnsworth was smiling now, too, and was quick to respond. “Sure Anson, I'm always taking donations for campaign purposes. What do you say to the tune of a quarter mill?”

Congressman Farnsworth was still smiling, but Ripple was not. “Hey, hey, big hitter, you have a sense of humor too. What if I write you a check for twenty five thousand right here and you can start gearing up for your next election?”

Howard sat there and began to tap his fingers on the table. He looked directly into Ansons’ eyes. “You are not as smart as people like to think you are, Anson. When I come to your door with your balls in my hand, you do what I say or I squeeze your balls until they explode. I need two hundred and fifty thousand Anson, final offer.”

Dr. Ripple slouched in his chair and looked back up at Farnsworth. “C'mon Howard. This is ludicrous and illegal. What is this?”

Howard shook his head from side to side and chuckled. “Anson, that's called smart business. You give me the money, and I'll keep your doors open forever. You know as well as I do, that all I have to do is make one speech about how freedom to choose is OK by me, but I will not have it unless properly licensed facilities perform the work. Let me tell ya' something, Anson, this shithole estate of yours will not get licensed. I can see to that.”

Ripple sat straight up again. He wiped the sweat that was forming on his forehead, obviously feeling the pressure and power. He sat and wrote a check to Howard Farnsworth for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

The next day, after the check cleared, Howard Farnsworth made a speech about how 'Freedom To Choose' was exactly that, and how District 20 would always stand by that Constitutional Law. The state would actually help Dr. Ripple obtain appropriate licensing for the good of the people. Farnsworth was happy and Ripple was safe. Farnsworth and Ripple would always shake hands at functions, but never speak, their relationship was clearly different now. Farnsworth was running a small crime organization that had taken advantage of Roy Steel's Auto World and Dr. Ripple.

***********************

By 1982 Howard Farnsworth was moving quickly up the political ladder. His race for the Senate was a dastardly one. There had been some mention by the media about his involvement in organized crime. There were some members of the media who seemed to be trying to take down the giant. Within days, however, other larger newspapers and television stations were disputing these “ridiculous allegations.” The reporters who displayed negative attitudes about Farnsworth were fired, or transferred. After all, Farnsworth owned the media, too. The young reporter from the
Alabama Sun
, Jason Rama, especially bothered Farnsworth. He refused to let these allegations go by the way side. Each day Howard would read another column from Rama that was filled with allegations and ridicule. He would not let it die and continued to leak rumors to all the wrong people. No one, including Farnsworth, knew why this young reporter held such a nasty grudge.

The editor in chief of the
Alabama Sun
, Robert Asaro, was secretly on Farnsworth's payroll. Robert would follow Farnsworths’ orders and call Jason in his office every week to repeat the same words, “Jase, I love you. You know I love you. I think you are going to be very successful in this business, buddy, but please give up this crusade to take down the most popular Congressman Alabama has ever seen. The guy is clean. Stop writing this crap.”

Farnsworth was applying pressure, against the wishes of Asaro, to “get rid of the cancer.”

Farnsworth had Robert invite Jason over to his house for a Memorial Day cook out. That morning Jason drove out to Robert's house, which was in the country. Robert's wife was not there. Jason had brought her a small bouquet of flowers to show his appreciation for the invitation.

Robert greeted him at the front door, “Hey buddy, come on in. I sent my wife to the store for more burgers. I got the grill-cleaning job while she's gone. You're the first one here. Grab a beer.”

Jason reached his hand into the ice and pulled a cold beer from the cooler. He sat down on a patio chair while he tried to get the feeling back in his hand. Farnsworth entered the backyard through the rear gate. He just appeared all of a sudden. Farnsworth knew Jason would feel very uncomfortable. Farnsworth walked over to Robert and whispered something in his ear. Robert kept cleaning the grill as Howard Farnsworth walked over to Jason, sat down, and exposed a pistol from inside his jacket.

He held the pistol about seven inches from Jason face and shared some thoughts with him,

“I told Robert to fire your ass or send you to
Alaska to cover a story about seals fucking, or something. Obviously he thinks too much of you to do that; he keeps sticking up for you. I like Robert too much to kill him for disobeying me, so I'm going to handle this my own way. If you do not hand in your resignation to the
Alabama Sun
right fucking now, move back to New York, and promise to
never
mention this again, my finger will slip. I will pull this trigger and we'll be grilling
you
for lunch. I could make your ass disappear in a New York minute, boy. Are we understood?”

Jason was shaking with fear and anger. “Yes sir, I understand. Rob, I quit, I'll move today.”

Robert eyes never left his grill.

Farnsworth continued his sarcasm and threats. “Boy, don't think you're going to move to New York and start mouthing off up there, because I swear, son, I'll put a bullet in your skull. I've done it before and I'll do it again. I don't mind a little airplane ride before hand.”

Jason left town three hours later. Jason Rama would never be heard from again.

By 1985 Howard Farnsworth was a proudly serving, veteran member of the United States Senate. He had committed no wrong for at least three years now. His newest position was a very high profile one. At first, he was scared to commit any wrongful acts because he was unfamiliar with his new position. After his second year of serving he began to find loopholes allowing him to deviate from the standards if desired, but he did not take advantage of this opportunity. He was making far too much money to risk it all by bothering some small-town businessmen. He no longer collected from Roy Steel and Dr. Anson Ripple.

By November of 1985 Senator Howard Farnsworth's position had taken its toll. His relationship with his wife was suffering because of all the pressure he felt. When he needed companionship during their private time, she was not willing to offer. His marriage was falling apart and he knew it. While attending a Homeless Foundation function, a very attractive thirty-year-old woman caught his eye. Christine Summer was the wife of a fifty-four-year old cattle rancher who was one of the wealthiest men in Alabama. Clint Summer was also an activist in the Democratic Party. He donated time, effort and money to the party and the less fortunate in the world, but his Christine was obviously a “trophy wife.” Once she hit the age of forty, he would divorce her and move onto another thirty-year-old beauty queen. At the Homeless Foundation fundraiser, Clint was off discussing politics with other wealthy entrepreneurs, as he typically did. Howard's wife was back in the corner careening with family, posing for pictures, talking to reporters and discussing the state of affairs in Alabama. Christine caught the Senator ogling her, so she approached him.