This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
From Part 10
Kinsley parked her vehicle three blocks down the street - not especially far, but far enough to cause her to be sure she wasn’t being followed. Within minutes, she was back on the highway. She turned on the radio just in time to hear president Dickinson speak.
For all those concerned about your drinking water - don’t be. We have made plans to begin the cleanup of our waterways. I have every contractor in the nation working on this massive job, and we should see fresh water everywhere within a week. In the meantime, be assured that there are trucks of bottled water coming to your closest grocery store as I speak. I will leave shortly for Nevada to consult with some experts on the matter. An update will be given to you, the American people, as soon as there are any new developments. We have solved the problem within our nation. Now, we must consider the rest of the world.
Kinsley knew what that meant. Her mother would meet with the president and Marisol soon. No doubt, Claire would find trouble waiting.
An old Volkswagen Beetle passed her. She noticed the driver looked familiar. It was the ball cap that gave him away. As far as Kinsley could tell, she wasn't recognized, so she slipped into the passing lane two cars back from the Bug. Eventually, the two vehicles in front turned onto side streets leaving her directly behind the mystery man.
She allowed other cars to mingle in between and finally lost the vehicle. At the next red light, she looked in her rear-view mirror only to see she was being followed by the same Volkswagen.
And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see. And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. - Revelation 6:1, 2
“Wexford, where’s my briefcase?” President Dickinson was in a rage. Time was running out. He needed to leave for Area 51 in less than fifteen minutes. “Wexford. Wexford. Come over here now!”
A sleepy Wexford made his way to the president. “Wexford, we need to leave. Where is my briefcase? I can’t find it anywhere!”
Wexford walked to the chair in the room's corner and grabbed the briefcase. “Okay, now let’s go. Marisol won’t wait for us. And sir, please try to relax. I’m sure Marisol will be pleased with your work.”
Across town, Jeff and Claire were also running late. Marisol wouldn’t wait for them either, nor would the plane. They made it just in time. Next stop - Area 51.
President Dickinson, Wexford, Claire and Jeff took their place in Marisol’s presence. She seemed annoyed with the gathering, except for Dickinson. She spoke. “Mr. President, it’s time.” Dickinson’s face expressed questions. What did she mean?
“Mr. President, it’s time for you to step up and take on the leadership of the world. I have arranged for you to speak at the United Nations at which time they will laud you, praise you, and beg you to lead the world into the New World Order we have been trying to achieve for so long. You have done well in your presidency. I wish to speak to each of you in private. Mr. President, if you’ll excuse us, please.”
Wexford made his way to a side room led by Marisol. "I have nothing to say to you. Just make sure the president holds up under the pressure. I can tell he’s a little nervous. Send in Jeff.”
Jeff entered the room. Marisol was furious. You’re letting people get too close! Someone is on to us. You must eliminate him if you want to keep moving up in this organization. You do want to keep moving up, don’t you?”
Jeff choked. “Yes, of course. I’m willing to do anything that’s required of me, Marisol.”
“Very good. Here’s the address. 2661 West Roosevelt Street, Phoenix, Arizona. Take care of it on your return trip to Washington. Send in that simpleton. What’s her name? . . . Oh, yes. Claire.”
Marisol swallowed hard as she waited for Claire to enter the room. The door opened, and Claire stepped in rather confidently. “Claire, it’s so nice to see you again,” Marisol lied.
“You have done such a wonderful job for the president - and for America, I might add. Actually, for the world! You have been such an asset to President Dickinson."
On the corner of Marisol’s desk lay a three-inch stack of one-hundred-dollar bills. Marisol pointed to it.
“Claire, that money is all yours. Just take it. I wish to reward you for such faithful and courageous service to your country.”
Claire feigned humility but wasted no time in reaching for the pile of cash. Marisol spoke again. “Please send Jeff back in on your way out.”
Jeff entered the room. Marisol pointed to a chair. He sat down. “Jeff, that money from the bank heist in Oregon last week - I gave Claire a handful. Fingerprints were carefully removed from it. It’s amazing what can be accomplished these days. The only fingerprints to appear on that money will be hers.
"Use it for your traveling expenses, but have her pay for everything. Keep your fingers off of it. She’ll take the fall if need be. It clearly belongs to her. She’s the only one to touch it since it was taken from the bank. Now, the two of you get your rental car and get to Phoenix,”
Dickinson and Wexford boarded Air Force One. Wexford was excited. “Mr. President, you’ve accomplished something no other human has ever done. Congratulations, sir.
"You know, I think it’s wonderful that you will be our world leader, but the fantastic thing is that this position was given to you. That’s very unusual. Throughout history, many a man has fought, and many a man has died in seeking power. World power - wow! It was just handed to you. I’m quite fortunate to be a small part of this. Thank you, Mr. President.”
“It is an achievement, isn’t it, Kerry? I’ll see to it you are placed in a strategic position once the dust clears. And I thank you for your dedicated service over the years.”
Clair and Jeff were off to Phoenix. He entered the address into his GPS. Time seemed to pass slowly, but eventually, the two arrived at 2661 West Roosevelt Street. Jeff parked his vehicle around the corner and told Claire to wait. She wasn’t told the purpose of the trip.
Jeff hurried up to the house and rang the doorbell. A young man in his thirties came to the door. A puzzled look came across his face. “Dad, is that you?”
Jeff’s gun was already in his hand. Without a second thought, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The man slumped to the ground as Jeff ran back to his car.
Neighbors watched as he ran down the street. Someone in the crowd chased him. He dove into the car and sped away. It wasn’t until three blocks later that he realized Claire was not with him. She’d need to find her own way home.
She became bored and walked for a bit while she waited for Jeff. Coming up the street, the excitement caught her eye. Talk of the incident was spreading fast, and Claire heard bits and pieces - enough bits and pieces to put the story together. Her wonderful boyfriend had just murdered Rob Harding, a likable guy in the neighborhood. Claire headed back to Jeff’s car. It was gone. And Claire was stranded in Phoenix.
It wasn't long until the police and CSI arrived. The large group of onlookers broke up into several smaller groups discussing the events. Claire made her way down the sidewalk and out of sight - or so she thought.
A police cruiser pulled up beside her. “Ma’am, I need to talk to you about the shooting down the street. What did you see?”
Claire froze. It seemed like she had been here before. Her first thought was, What will Kinsley think now? “Oh, Officer. I can truly tell you I didn’t see a thing.” Claire’s demeanor didn’t fit what she was saying.
“You know, I was interviewing some others. I asked them if they saw anything suspicious. Several of them pointed out that you don’t live around here. This is a very close-knit neighborhood. They watch each other’s backs. Let me put it another way. What do you know about the shooting that just took place at 2661 West Roosevelt Street?”
A shaking Claire fell to the pavement. Officer Stevens called for the paramedics. “This woman is having a heart attack. Hurry!”
The others tended to the body of the deceased. Two of the EMT came running. Just as the one reached down to check Claire’s pulse, she gasped for air and sheepishly opened one eye. The EMTs looked at each other, then they looked at Stevens. They helped her to her feet.
“I take it that that bit of acting means you do know something about the shooting. I mean, after all, you can only hold your breath so long, right?” He proceeded to cuff her. “Next stop, lady - the police station.”
At the station, Claire was ordered to produce identification. Officer Stevens looked at her driver’s license carefully. Then he made the connection. “Hey, fellas. Come over here. Do you know who we have in our presence? It’s that whacko from the demonstrations in Washington, Claire Oliver.”
A roar of laughter echoed through the large building, bouncing from one wall to another. In short order, the entire police force gathered around. “Hey, can I have your autograph?” “You looked more threatening on TV.” “What did they do? Kick you out of DC?” The insults continued.
Officer Stevens quieted the crowd. He looked at Claire. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”
The judge set Claire’s bail at $20,000. She only needed to pay ten-per-cent and she was home free. She reached into her purse and pulled out twenty one-hundred-dollar bills.
“Who carries twenty one-hundred-dollar bills in their purse?” Officer Stevens was careful as he took the money to the lab for fingerprinting. The only fingerprints on any of the bills belonged to Claire. Serial numbers were checked. It was discovered each bill had been stolen from an Oregon bank.
Claire was taken back before the judge. “Ms. Oliver, are you aware of where this money came from?”
“Oh, yes. Marisol gave it to me.”
“And tell me. Who is this Marisol?”
Claire recognized immediately what she did. Marisol was top-secret material. She couldn’t explain. Even if she did, who would believe her?
The door opened in the back of the room. A staggering Jeff made his way to the front of the room.
- The Marisol Deception - Part 12
Nothing lasts forever. Not even America. The downward path has already been determined. Still, could we delay its destruction?
© 2020 William Kovacic