James Grippando - The Abduction

“No. But the challenge you issued last night to this administration is a direct attack on my legacy. You put me on the spot on national television and asked me to sign an executive order that directs the military to round up child abductors. I’m sure plenty of people at home are thinking, yes, let’s do it. They forget about the Nazi concentration camps. They forget what our own country did to Japanese Americans during the Second World War. They suddenly need to be reminded that using the military against civilians has a rather catastrophic track record in the course of world history. Your rhetoric puts me in a no-win situation. If I sign this order, the final and most memorable act of my presidency will in the long run leave me branded as the reactionary fool who pandered to hysteria and tried to turn the United States into a fascist military state. You know I’m not going to do that. But by the same token, I don’t want to be remembered in the short term as the bleeding-heart liberal who was soft on child abductors.”

“I’m sorry you see it that way.”

“No you’re not,” he said sharply. “No one who has devoted his life to defending this country’s freedoms could be sincere about a plan to turn the military against its own citizens.”

“You think I was bluffing?”

“I know you were. Using the military this way is probably illegal, but let’s put that aside. There are two ways we can handle this. One is for you to go back on television and bad-mouth me for refusing to call out the military in aid of your granddaughter and other defenseless children.”

“That has definite appeal.”

“And it has definite consequences. I would naturally be forced to respond in kind.”

“Not to be crass,” said Howe, “but just how do you intend to hit a man whose granddaughter has just been abducted?”

“This is highly confidential, but my sources tell me that the FBI is actually considering the possibility that the abduction of Kristen Howe was planned and executed by your supporters. Possibly even with your blessing.”

“That’s bullshit,” Howe said in an icy, clipped tone.

“It’s not bullshit if it’s leaked from the White House.”

“Mr. President, you know that’s not the truth.”

He smiled wryly. “The truth? That’s such an elusive concept. I had a strategist once who had an interesting definition of it. The truth, he said, is that which cannot be proved false.”

The general stiffened.

President Sires leaned back in his chair. “Just four more days till the election, General. You think in four days you can prove that neither you nor your supporters had anything to do with an abduction that may single-handedly propel you into the White House?”

He glared. “What are you proposing?”

“Personally, I like alternative number two: You and I simply agree to say nothing more about this. I make no further comment on your granddaughter’s abduction. And you say nothing more about me signing an executive order to call up the military.”

“Surely the press won’t just let it die.”

“And our response will be firm but reasonable: In the interest of Kristen’s safe return, I will not comment on the investigation strategy at this time. You think you can say that, Lincoln? Or do you want to see just how leaky that White House plumbing can be?”

“Is your legacy really that important to you?” he asked in disbelief.

“Is becoming the next president really that important to you ?”

Howe grimaced, then rose from his chair and looked out the window. Finally, he drew a deep breath as he turned and faced the president, looking him straight in the eye.

“In the interest of Kristen’s safe return,” he said in the voice of an obedient soldier, “I will not comment on the investigation strategy at this time.”

Repo was out of breath as he raced in from the cold. The kitchen door slammed behind him. He leaned against it, clutching the plastic bag of groceries. He hadn’t wanted to leave Kristen alone with Tony and Johnny any longer than necessary, so he’d sprinted down and back from the convenience store at the corner. He checked the clock on the stove. The entire trip took only fourteen minutes.

Three times longer than it took those goons to kill Reggie Miles.

A wave of concern washed over him. He dropped the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and pulled off his jacket, hat, and gloves.

“What did you get?” asked Tony as he entered the room.

Repo pushed the bag beyond Tony’s reach. “Just a few things.”

“Let me see.” He grabbed the bag and looked inside, then made a face. “Froot Loops? Hey Johnny, look at this. Repo went out and bought us some Froot Loops.”

Johnny strutted around the corner, smirking. He was wearing jeans and a muscleman’s T-shirt. “Froot Loops? Hell, I’m a Lucky Charms man, myself.”

Repo said, “It’s for the kid, asshole.”

“For the kid ? You ran out in the freezing damn cold to buy cereal for the kid? What, you trying to get your cock sucked or something?”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“What, you afraid Tony and me might get there first?”

Repo grabbed him and pushed him against the refrigerator. “I said don’t !”

“Hey!” shouted Tony, breaking them apart.

Johnny stepped back and shook it off. Repo was seething as he backed away slowly.

Tony tossed the cereal box on the counter. He looked at Johnny, then glared at Repo. “You went down to see her last night. I heard you going down the stairs.”

“What about it?”

“And now you’re out buying her favorite cereal.”

“She’s gotta eat.”

Tony laid his hand on Repo’s shoulder. His voice had a paternal yet threatening tone, like the Godfather. “You disappoint me, Repo. I always told everybody that Repo was the kid to watch. Young but dependable. Lots of promise. I brought you in on this job because I thought of you like Johnny, my own brother-like family. We’re like a little family, the three of us. Except that Johnny and me, we’re the only ones in this family who committed murder. That means we got more at stake than you do. And now you’re getting chummy with the girl. That makes me very nervous. It makes me wonder, you know, if maybe Repo is going to sell the rest of the family down the river.”

“I’m not going to sell anybody out.”

Tony shook his head. “You’ve lost our trust.”

Repo shifted nervously. “What are you saying?”

“You gotta earn it back.”

“How?”

Tony’s expression changed. The jaw tightened. The eyes became dark, menacing slits. “As soon as we get the money, the girl dies. And you’ll be the one who kills her.”

Downtown Washington seemed awash in shades of gray. Overcast skies were a perfect match for the old limestone buildings and marble monuments. Trees stood leafless in Lafayette Square, the impeccably landscaped park north of the White House, directly across Pennsylvania Avenue. As the black limousine pulled from the White House driveway, Lincoln Howe glanced at the circle of protesters in the square. Their signs and slogans decried American exploitation of child labor in foreign countries. He thought of the way President Sires had just obsessed over his legacy, then thought of his own televised speech last night against child abduction. Suddenly it clicked. He had yet to be elected, but he’d already settled on a legacy of his own: Lincoln Howe, the children’s president.

The thought pleased him.

“How did the meeting go?” asked LaBelle. He was seated in the rear, across from the general.

“Just fine.” The clipped tone made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it.