Lethal Politics Read online

  "Are you certain they won't detect the drug in his system?" Earl asked as the Cessna cleared the Los Angeles airspace on their way back to Texas. They had returned the rental cars and now had no ties to the California area.

  "He was nearly awake when we shot him," Abe replied. "The stuff decomposes relatively quickly even in a dead body. Unless they run some very special tests within an hour or two, there won't be anything to find."

  Chapter 17

  Washington, D.C.

  When the news of the murder-suicide broke, following so close on the heels of the killing of the presidential candidate, along with the obvious conclusion that the police and media had gotten the entire scenario wrong, the public was outraged that Carol Marshall had died unnecessarily as a result of the misreading of events, and that the killer of both her and Candidate Nancy Craig had escaped proper retribution.

  Vice President Toshiko Yano sighed as she stepped into the White House. It wasn't a place she really felt comfortable, and sometimes regretted her decision to enter this tainted game called politics. She has her own office, seldom used, in the West Wing here in the White House, in addition to a set of offices for her and her staff in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building not far away. She also has an office in the Capital Building just outside the Senate Chamber which is the one she most prefers. She is bothered less there than anywhere else. But today she has to meet with the President, here in the Oval Office.

  If the average American realized what motivated their elected officials, and the dealings that led them to support or oppose given legislation, they would more than likely vote to have the lot of them hanged. Today, however, was a different situation. She knew the President was going to ask her to be the government's formal representative at the funeral being planned for the murdered candidate Nancy Craig. She understood why that made sense, and she wasn't at all opposed to being present. The simple truth was that she had pushed to become Vice President in order to see something positive done with the mess that was the American medical care system. While President Pilcher had done much of what he had promised, of late in her mind he was wavering a bit, compromising like a normal politician. She'd been devastated to learn that Mrs. Craig had been killed, because she'd actually hoped the woman would win, even if it meant Toshiko herself would lose her position and leverage, because Nancy Craig had some ideas that were essential if the system were to ever work properly. Ideas she knew that the President wouldn't be willing to stand behind. Now that wasn't going to happen. Toshiko was certain that Mark Pilcher was going to win a second term. Soon, she would have to decide if she was going to tell him she wouldn't be on the ticket with him this time around.

  On the way to the Oval Office, she spotted others that she knew, agents who had served on her detail before, and staffers that did much of the detailed day-to-day work that kept the government going. Having just lost one of their charges, the Secret Service agents assigned to protect her are more obviously present, more aggressive and ready to confront any perceived threat, than she can ever recall. She spotted CC, who she hadn't seen in a couple of years. He had been one of the first agents assigned to her after they had won the election several years ago. She was considering a small detour to say hi when she noticed Cindy Moore, the President's girlfriend, walk over to him and whisper a quick something in his ear. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the exchange had a touch of covertness, or guilt, at least in the way she felt it took place. She decided to forgo the greeting to her former agent, and continued on to her meeting with the President, wondering if there might be something going on between his lady friend and the agent.

  "Toshiko," President Mark Pilcher said when she was escorted into the office. He stood and walked toward her, something he hadn't done in several years now. She immediately sensed he was in his politician's mode, and had things he wanted to ask of her.

  "Mark," she replied as she sat in the chair after the greeting. Somehow, the way he'd begun the meeting firmed up her decision to tell him she was bowing out of the coming election. That, and the renewed drive she sensed in him since he was no longer the underdog in the election. The polls had shown a significant jump in his favor, probably those that had written him off and now believed he could beat the remaining competition, and the slump in the opposition now that their most likely champion had been felled.

  The President didn't waste any time getting to the matter on his mind. "I'd like you to attend the funeral of Mrs. Craig," he said. "Given the adversarial nature of our positions in the upcoming election, it would be very awkward for me to be there, and I'm not certain how I would be perceived by many. I suspect the media would attempt to make out I was gloating, or at least not at all put out by what has happened."

  Toshiko nodded. She'd known this was coming. It made sense, and she had enough spies among her aides to know what Pilcher was thinking. She also believed he was correct on this. The Democrats would not be supportive of his presence. They were now looking at a likely loss, whereas a week ago they had considered the election theirs. "I assumed that would be the case. When is it?"

  "Tomorrow, in California. You'd have to leave by tonight. I have told them to prepare Air Force One for whenever you are ready to depart. You can sleep on the plane."

  She had done it before and knew that it would have everything she needed.

  "I can't believe this has happened," Toshiko said, genuinely distressed by the murder. "To think she died as a by-product of someone's rage, accidentally by simply being near to the person actually being targeted."

  "Are they certain that's the case?" Mark asked.

  "It was in the morning briefs," Toshiko said.

  "I didn't read that part. China has been flexing their muscles again, and I spent the morning in an early briefing. We may be looking at a limited engagement with them if they don't pull back from the Philippine Island they insist on taking over."

  "As you know they thought otherwise at first, but the following morning the body of her secretary's estranged husband was found dead in his pickup less than a half mile from where she has been staying. It appears that he committed suicide. The discovery caused the police to check on Carol Marshall, and they found her dead in her bed, shot three times in the upper body. The gun found with her husband has been confirmed as the murder weapon. They also found a note which is being examined, but is believed to be his handwriting."

  "So he was shooting at Carol instead of Nancy Craig?" the President asked.

  "That's the current assumption," Toshiko said. "The rifle used in the shooting was found in his truck. It was registered to him, and the clip, magazine, still loaded with additional rounds of the same ammunition. There was also a jacket of his in the truck with dirt that looks to be the same as what one would find in the small flat where the shooter took the shots. The analysis hasn't been completed, but the experts have little doubt there will be a match. Nancy's husband told the police that Carol had talked a lot about the separation, and her concern about her husband's reaction to the pending divorce."

  "It sounds like he learned from the media that his shots missed his intended target, and he went after her at the house," the President guessed. "I wonder why he didn't simply go after her there in the first place?"

  "According to Mr. Craig, she'd been keeping where she stayed a secret. There is some thought he might have followed the police when they took her home. That might have opened up an opportunity he didn't have before. The police also now believe that the attack on Mr. Craig wasn't as random as initially believed. They think Bud Marshall was responsible, and purposely broken Mr. Craig's shoulder with the hope that would bring Mrs. Craig, and of course her secretary, back to Los Angeles where he could make his move."

  "It's unfortunate that these kind of things happen, but even more so when bystanders get caught up in the events. What is Mr. Craig's plans now."

  Toshiko sensed a bit of insincerity in the comment, but then Pilcher was becoming more like others in the capital that way.


  "He's thinking of selling the house, he doesn't want to live there. He's apparently already moved into a hotel. It's likely he'll move to Northern California where their son is in college at Stanford."

  Then a bit boldly she said, changing the direction of the conversation, "It certainly changed the way the election was going. You have taken over as the likely winner. I assume none of this changes your intention on seeking re-election."

  "Not at all," Mark said bluntly, then softening his tone he added, "It makes it a bit awkward, capitalizing on the death of the person believed to be the likely winner, but I owe it to my party and the goals of this administration not to let this opportunity slip away. Giving the election to her party when the remaining candidates are nothing like the person Nancy was, and don't share her visions, would be irresponsible."

  Toshiko nodded. She had known what his answer was going to be.

  "I'm dropping off the ticket," she said suddenly and without forethought. She hadn't known how she was going to approach the matter, but it had just popped out.

  "You're what?" Mark asked, clearly a bit surprised for once.

  "I have been considering this for some time, but felt I wouldn't need to say anything since Mrs. Craig was on a path to sweeping the election and it wouldn't matter. But now that has all changed. We have been diverging on the medical issue, and that was the major reason I came on board. You are going to have to find a new running mate."

  "Maybe we can find some middle ground on that," Mark said, not prepared for the impacts this might have on his campaign.

  Toshiko held up her hand to ward off further discussion.

  "My mind is made up on this. I will perform this last official act, but after this, I'd appreciate if I simply fade into the background until after the election."

  "This is unfortunate, and the timing is really going to complicate things."

  Toshiko could tell the Mark was more worried about how her defection would reflect on him and his campaign, especially coming at this late date, as opposed to any real concern about the loss of her as a running mate. There were others he could drag into the position. She'd liked him initially, but over the past couple of years had decided she had read him wrong, and that he wasn't the person she'd wanted to believe he was.

  She stood and said, "I better get going if I'm to be in California in time for the funeral," she said.

  Mark didn't stand. "I guess so," he said, and watched as she turned and headed out the door.

  He hadn't expected this, but there might be a way to turn it to his advantage. He thought for a moment, realizing it was a little over a month to the convention, and then an additional four months to the election. He had time to recover, and if fact, he could think of at least two possible running mates who would bring more to the election than Mrs. Yano. Maybe her leaving would be a good thing.

  Satisfied that no major harm had been done, his thoughts turned briefly to the discussion he'd had with Earl the previous night. The team had returned to Texas, with no indication their involvement had been detected at all. The team had split up, with the three co-conspirators going their separate ways, their part complete and the promised funds already transferred into their respective accounts.

  The special phones they had agreed to hold onto for a time, maybe a month, in case further private discussion was required, then Mark would pass his to CC, who would be told to take it back to Earl, who would see they were returned to the source so they could be placed back into stores as if they'd never been gone. All in all, a successful operation. The President was already considering his first major campaign sweep around the country, with a stop in El Paso to stay with an old friend, where they could discuss this matter privately in detail.

  Chapter 18

  Washington, D.C.

  October, 2024

  "You're a private detective?" Vice President Toshiko asked when the mostly bald, gray-haired man was comfortably seated in her office. She was more than a little surprised by his visit, and couldn't help wondering what he wanted.

  The man nodded. "Karl Baxter," he said by way of introduction. "I am now. A part-time thing these days. I was an FBI agent for a little over twenty-five years."

  "Why would you want to speak with me?" the VP asked as she examined the somewhat slim and diminutive man sitting across from her. He certainly didn't look like the image of what came to mind when she thought of a private detective. Maybe it was all the television shows with the hunky actors. Baxter was a smallish, completely unthreatening, sixty-something year-old man. He wasn't even dressed like an agent, the dark suit long forgotten, replaced by casual slacks and a polo shirt covered by a thin windbreaker. The skeletal, metal frame glasses completed the image of an academic more than a lawman. The only thing that even suggested he might be what he claimed, other than the business card he had handed her before he sat across from her desk, was the small lump on his hip, suggesting he might just have a weapon positioned there. She wondered if he even knew how to shoot it, assuming that's what he had hidden and not a case for his cell phone which she didn't see anywhere at the moment.

  "I'm looking into the killing of former presidential candidate Nancy Craig," he replied, catching her off guard once again.

  "Nancy Craig!" she said surprised. "I thought that matter had been fully investigated by all manner of organizations, and resolved. She was an accidental victim of a domestic situation that got out of hand."

  Karl nodded. "That's the official story, and the way the matter has been classified," he agreed.

  "But you don't believe it for some reason?"

  "I wonder if it is really that simple," the detective admitted. "I can see where those who closed this matter off didn't want to linger on the matter. They had an answer, one that defused the anger and finger pointing, and discontent of the public, so why fan the flames again. Besides, they had no leads, so why should they purposely make themselves look bad. I initially was reluctant to take on this assignment believing it to be the product of the husband's grief, but now I'm a bit more inclined to dig deeper."

  "The husband? Mr. Craig hired you?"

  Karl nodded.

  "Why would he do that? He isn't convinced that the FBI and others knew what they were doing?"

  "I visited him in Stanford a few weeks ago where he outlined some of the issues that still bothered him. He was there in the house at the time of the shooting, you recall, and much of what the FBI believe transpired came from his descriptions of events. He is bothered by the events of the shooting itself. If you recall, Bud Marshall was a proficient rifleman, yet he somehow he is believed to have missed his target and shot Mrs. Craig instead. And that ended it. No further attempt was made against Carol Marshall at that time."

  "The news reports claimed that the women fell together behind a thick wall, out of view from the shooter, and he probably believed that he'd been successful in his attempt."

  The detective nodded repeatedly.

  "I talked with Mr. Craig about that aspect of the shooting. He recalled what Carol told him and the investigative team that evening after the shooting. When the first shot broke the window glass in the study, Mrs. Craig grabbed Carol and pulled her toward the floor. As a result they were in very close contact, and would have been difficult to distinguish from one another when the second, killing shot was fired. Then they dropped from view, Mrs. Craig mortally wounded."

  "I don't understand the issue," the V.P. replied.

  "Mr. Craig is bothered by the fact there was no additional shooting. If Bud Marshall was shooting at Carol Marshall, and if fact he missed her, wouldn't he have known as much, or at least be doubtful enough of the outcome given the way the women were intertwined as described by Carol. Even if the women were out of sight behind the wall of the room, they weren't really protected. Given the dynamics of the second shot, why didn't Bud Marshall simply fire additional insurance shots through the walls, making certain of his goal by killing both women?"

  Toshiko was stun
ned by the allegation. "Why would Bud Marshall want to shoot Mrs. Craig?" she asked. "Does Eric Craig think he blamed his wife for the troubles between Bud and Carol Marshall?"

  "What if it wasn't Bud Marshall behind the rifle?" Karl asked softly, surprising her with a thought that hadn't occurred to her and which she hadn't seen stated anywhere in the official case summary that had been passed out to senior government officials when the case was closed.

  "What? I thought that had been verified?"

  "Suggested," Karl countered, "given the rest of what happened the next day. But upon careful examination there is a surprising lack of any forensic evidence at any of the killing sites that can confirm Bud Marshall's presence. It is difficult to sanitize a crime scene, and why would have Bud Marshall done so, if he intended to commit suicide shortly afterwards. It's not a conclusive situation, but it is curious, and prompts me to pursue this in more detail."

  "It sounds like you don't agree with the official version of what transpired," Toshiko said. "What makes you believe the shooting was a deliberate murder, instead of the domestic issue as claimed?"

  "I'm not sure of anything at this point," the detective admitted, but I find certain things, such as those I mentioned, unconvincing. I guess, in answer to your question, I'd say, "follow the money."

  "Money?"

  "Okay, that's kind of an expression in my former business. In this case it's more a question of who stands to benefit from the events that day."