The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology Read online

  “I've got one.”

  “Go ahead, Lou.”

  “Well, sir --”

  “Gordy.”

  “-- Gordy … sorry ... you know the ACLU is coming after us, and they'll keep up the pressure.”

  “Don't you worry about them, Lou. Lannie and I have already intervened and closed down all of their lawsuits with you, and we've put them on notice that the rules have changed and they're almost out of business as far as any branch of the federal government is concerned. Another week and they'll all have gotten the message, and poof, no more ACLU problems. We are at war, period.

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Nothing from me, Gordy.”

  “That was it from me.”

  “Lannie?”

  “Nope, all clear.”

  “Okay. Go over that memo and if you have any questions, just get in touch with Emily, Alex, Taylor, Jodi or Maria, and I'll get back to you or get you in here ASAP. Go for it. And I've got your six, okay?”

  “Okay, Gordy; appreciate it.”

  Donne stood and shook hands all around.

  “Oh, if you want a DVD of this meeting, check with Alex on the way out. Thanks, everybody. Now I've got to get back to prepping the Medicare speech for tonight.”

  Everybody left, and Donne went back to his desk, buzzed his chief of staff and asked her to gather up his social media team and bring them into the Oval Office in twenty minutes.

  “Will do, Gordy. Twenty minutes.”

  “Thanks, Emily.”

  Donne then picked up the printout of his speech and continued editing and rehearsing it, nibbling from time to time on a turkey-and- peanut butter sandwich, but ignoring a plastic container of sprouts, tofu and parsley which had suspiciously appeared with the sandwich.

  Twenty minutes later, the intercom on his desk buzzed and Emily said, “The team is here, Mr. Donne.”

  “Thanks, Emily. Bring 'em on in.”

  Several twenty-something men and women followed Emily in and milled about the room until Donne waved them to sit and get comfortable. He also quietly handed Emily the plastic container as she gave him a stack of papers. She smiled innocently and took the container with her as she left. (She snacked on the contents at her desk for the next half hour.)

  Donne came around from behind his desk and smiled.

  “Good morning, gang. Everybody comfy? Good, good.

  “Okay. I've only met some of you, so could the team leaders introduce their teams, please? Lexie, go ahead.”

  “Yes, Mr. Donne. We're the Monitors, and we have a network of over a hundred freelancers screening all the social media sites and blogs, funneling what they find to the ten of us: Susie, Ellie, Sydne, Selma, Katie, Tracey, Tammy, Riley, Ragan and me.”

  “Thanks, Lexie, and welcome to you all. Maddie?”

  “We're the Responders, Mr. Donne. My team and our network respond to whatever Lexie's team sends us, positive or negative, with the talking points Emily has given us. We are Bettina, Birgitte, Bria, Becca, Belinda, Zoey, Dawn, Rhiannon and me.”

  “Good, Maddie, and welcome to you and your team. Kennedy?”

  “We're the Initiators, Mr. Donne. We get daily updates from Emily and her staff and start feeding them out to the public through our volunteer network of bloggers and other social media people, plus several PR firms and media contacts. My team is Brittnie, Cassie, Kiersten, Donna, Heather, Lacie, Brian and me.”

  “Thank you, Kennedy, and welcome to all of you, too.

  “I've been getting very good reports from Emily on how you're all doing, and I applaud your dedication and inventiveness.

  “Now, tonight I'll be giving a speech on Medicare, Medicaid and health insurance, and it's definitely going to be controversial, so you'll all need to be prepared for an explosion of activity, especially from the organized health insurance companies, doctors, the pharma companies and the other special interests that are gonna be affected.

  “Emily has prepared our talking points on this whole change,” he said as he handed the stack of papers to the team leaders, “and as you study those, you'll see that this idea is completely and totally to put choice and control back into the hands of the people.

  “So, Maddie, Lexie and Kennedy, you'll need to bring your teams and your networks up to speed on all this, so they're ready to go 24/7 as soon as I give that speech. I wouldn't expect the spike to last more than a week or so, but it'll be pretty intense, I'm sure.

  “If you need more people for your teams, let Emily know and she'll be sure you get 'em.

  “And one important thing I need you all to remember. We don't need to get defensive, no matter what lies and BS they shoot out. We're gonna stay just soft and neutral, so no flaming, no personal attacks, just the facts. And gentle, self-assured. Okay?”

  Everybody nodded or said, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. If you have any questions at all this afternoon or at any time as we go through this, I'll be available 24/7, and you can reach me through Emily or any of her staff.

  “Okay. Any questions now?”

  The teams all glanced at each other, but nobody said anything, until Lexie spoke up. “I guess not, Mr. Donne; I think we're good.”

  “Okay, that's it for now, then. I'm counting on each and every one of you to do the absolute best you can.

  “So let's all get a good rest and be ready for the onslaught about 8:45 tonight. And thanks again, gang.”

  At that point, spontaneous and loud applause broke out as all of the teams got up and headed out, all smiles, except Brian, the only guy in the group, who was lagging behind and intensely studying the papers he was carrying, so intensely that he bumped into the closing door as he reached it. He backed up, re-opened the door and started to head out, blushing deeply, but still studying the papers.

  “Hey, Brian, do you play chess? Donne asked.

  Brian looked up nervously. “Yes, sir, Mr. Donne.”

  “Thought so. We'll talk later. For now, have at it. And thanks.”

  When the door closed behind Brian, Donne returned to his desk and got back to work on his speech and on his sandwich, mumbling, “Tofu equals protein minus taste.”

  -42-

  Four Months Earlier

  Saturday, August 13, 2011

  10:10 a.m.

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  With his stitches removed ($146) and the cuts nearly healed, Jake was floating on a couple of noodles in the Gulf on this already hot day, bicycling his legs under the surface, a dead cigarette butt tucked under a bow of his sunglasses at his temple and a book in his hands. His fashion statement was completed by a slightly tattered bucket beach hat, which had originally been white, but now verged on ecru.

  He'd arrived about 7:45, set up his lounge, cooler and beach bag, watched the X-Fit with Kevin exercise group until he got vicariously exhausted, exchanged “Good Mornings” with some of the early walkers and had made several notes in his notebook. But now, as he floated in the warm, clear Gulf water, he was reading a thick nonfiction paperback book, a process someone had called “aqua-literating.”

  “Good book?” a female voice asked from behind him.

  “Can't put it down,” Jake replied as he swiveled to see who was there. “Oh, hey, Ann Louise. How's the Bitch of the Beach doing?”

  “Oh, so-so,” she said. “You?”

  “Waking up. Should be done by maybe Tuesday.”

  “So whatcha reading now?”

  Jake showed her the cover and said, “It's a pretty scathing history of the Federal Reserve and the worldwide banking cabal, from colonial times up to now. Already raised my blood pressure up to near normal three times in the last half hour or so.”

  “That's nice. Listen, I got something for your book.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well --”

  “Now, this will be of national significance, right, not like your last one, that people from New Jersey sit too close to other people's chairs and blankets?”

  “Well
, they do do that all over the country, not just here, don't they?”

  “Okay, but what's Donne gonna do about it, make a law that they have to stay at least, what, two feet away? Three? Five? C'mon.”

  “Well, I think it's a legitimate complaint. Okay, okay. Now, you know how the Collier lot is set up so that it's a long walk from the east end to the boardwalk, right?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Well, a lot of people come early just to walk the beach, get some exercise, with nothing to carry, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And a lot of families come for the day and they have tons of stuff to carry, like chairs and toys for the kids, umbrellas and coolers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So doesn't it piss you off that the exercisers park up front, close to the boardwalk, and take up all the spaces in the circle, so the families have to walk so much further with all their stuff?”

  “Never thought about it, but it does seem ironic.” He chuckled. “I guess if I had a family and a lot of stuff, yeah, it'd be annoying.”

  “They come for the exercise, but can't walk the little bit further to the end of the lot, get just a little more exercise.”

  “I guess that's sort of inconsiderate, but, again, national?”

  “Probably happens everywhere.”

  “Could be, but a vital national interest?”

  “Well, I think so.”

  “Tell you what, Ann Louise; I'll think about it, okay?”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, downcast. “But think hard.”

  “I will, I will; promise.”

  “Okay. Well, see ya later. Have a nice day.”

  Jake gave her a Benny Hill salute and said, “Yes, ma'am, I will.”

  “Oh, can you do anything to get Sonya to shut up? She runs on and on about nothing, can't get away from her. And she's so angry, on and on, bitching about (N-word deleted)s and Jews. Jesus.”

  “I've got some super glue in my bag, if you want to sneak it into her lipstick. But she and Herb only come on weekends, now that he's working again.”

  “Yeah, but – oh, shit, they're here and I think she just saw me.”

  “Well, don't hang around me anymore. Go, go.”

  Just then a harsh nasal female voice called out from shore, “Hey, Ann Louise!”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Go, go. I'll talk to you later.”

  “I'm going.”

  “Hey, Ann Louise! Wait up!”

  But Ann Louise wasn't fast enough, and Sonya caught up with her about twenty feet from Jake and stayed with her as she headed back north as quickly as a woman of her girth could in chest-deep water.

  Jake breathed a sigh of relief and started for the shore, filling a bag with water to wash his feet when he got to his lounge. Once there and with that done and the cigarette butt in an empty pack, he pulled a plastic container of ice cream from his cooler, ate a spoonful and let it slide down his throat. He followed that with a drink of water and some lip balm, then lay down and went back to his book, with a goal of staying on shore in the hot sun for at least twenty minutes. He also made a few notes in his notebook.

  Eight minutes later, he was back in the water, with noodles, bag, book and a newly-lit cigarette, rotating 360 degrees occasionally.

  Forty minutes later, he had walked in chest-deep water north to the volleyball net and back, then south an equal distance from his lounge and back, all in chest-deep water, negotiating pathways around other people in the water, reading and occasionally chatting with both strangers and people he knew, spreading the link to his web site to the ones that seemed to have above-average intelligence, including a few of the Beach Potatoes, some of the Barefoot Beach Babes, none of the Hat Squad, and one tourist named John who said he worked for the United Nations and wondered whether Donne would keep the US in the UN. (The Incontinentals never went in the water, nor did the Beach Balls.)

  A few minutes past eleven, a gentle female voice behind him said, “Good book?”

  “Can't put it – oh, hey, Pam.” Then he swiveled to face her. She was chest-deep in the water, floating on a bright blue noodle, wearing a shiny black bikini top with a golden ring in the cleavage; it was a bit less revealing than the one she'd had on two months before, but still eye-catching. Her hair was back in a ponytail and her sunglasses had some gold filigree on the frame. Her face hadn't changed at all, still natural and stunning.

  “So you recognize my voice after a month? Cool.”

  “Pizza cake; it's hard to forget. When did you get in?”

  “Last night. Hope you're okay with the surprise.”

  “Pam, with you, EVERYTHING is a surprise. But delightful; it's always nice to see you.”

  “Thanks; that's a relief. Looks like you got the stitches out.”

  “Yup, a couple weeks ago; gonna have some scars, though. So how've you been? Two weeks of retirement treating you okay?”

  “Your memory's getting better. And yup, it's been good so far, but it's tough going from being so busy to having zero responsibility. I'm still waking up at five in the morning.”

  “That should ease up after a week or two. At least, that's what happened to me when I retired. And I'd bet that you'll be sleeping in till seven or eight pretty soon if you want to. I mean, you're like 15 years younger than me, so I'll bet you'll adapt quicklier than I did.”

  “Quicklier?”

  “Gets the idea across, doesn't it?”

  “Yeah, I guess it does. Hmm. I like it.” She chuckled.

  “I think just staying in the condo for a while will help,” she said, pointing across the beach. “A lot quieter than my place in DC.”

  Jake looked where she was pointing.

  “You're staying over there? Which building?”

  “The middle one.”

  “Really? Which floor?”

  “Seventh, this side. Great view. Small, but just fine for one.”

  “Yeah, I've seen 'em. Very comfy, especially with the upgrades.”

  “And I've got it for free, till the end of October, if I want.”

  “Really? Nice. How'd you work that?”

  “Belongs to a college roommate and her husband, but they won't be down till November, and they don't like to rent it out.”

  “So how long are you planning to stay?”

  “I don't know yet. This seems like a great place to relax and unwind, and I do love the beach; I had no idea what I was missing. So I guess I owe you a big thank you.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “If I hadn't been sent to investigate you, I'd just be doing what I'd been doing, investigating other threats or counterfeiting or something in Idaho or Ohio or somewhere, never woulda seen this place and thought more seriously about retiring.”

  Jake thought about that for a second, then said, “Okay. You're welcome, I guess. Oh, and you're welcome; always nice to see you.”

  “Thanks. Nice to be seen.”

  Jake laughed. “Oh, before I forget, Joe got his check for the reward and said if I saw you before he did, to give you a big thanks from him.”

  “I'm glad it got there; I tried to expedite it. Sometimes it can take up to six months, but this was a small one.”

  “Twenty-five K is small?”

  “As rewards go, yes.”

  “Wow.

  “And I heard that you replaced the jet ski that one of your guys killed.”

  “Yeah, pretty much as soon as we heard that one of our bullets hit it. And we got some psych help for the kid who was riding it.”

  “So anything new with your ex-boss?”

  “Raunchy Randy? He's still on suspension, I guess. Haven't heard anything about him or from him. How about you? Anything?”

  “Not really; been kinda quiet since that day at the Shack.”

  “No more manatee porn?”

  “Nope; they swim by here a few times a week, but no mating.”

  “You still calling 'em?”

  “Yup, every morning when I get here;
dolphins, too. They come by more often than the big guys.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup, almost quotidian; probably see some today.”

  “Cool. So how's the book coming?”

  “Slowly, but new ideas come up every day; like there was one guy I talked with maybe half an hour ago who said he worked for the UN and wondered whether I'd keep the US in the UN. Something a little hinky about him; I'm not sure. But I started the conversation, not him. So maybe that was just a coinkydink.”

  “A what?”

  “Oh, sorry; coinkydink, like coincidence, but a bit less random.”

  Pam laughed. “Are you making up a lot of words for the book?”

  Jake chuckled. “You got me. Sometimes I do. But I don't think I made that one up. Heard it somewhere.”

  “So how's the book coming? Still on target for December?”

  “So far, so good. Kinda stuck on how he might fix Medicare and the whole health care thing. And a lot of other stuff, too. But I've got a rough timeline for him, and a lot of assassination plots and a few subplots outlined.”

  “Cool.”

  “And now that you're retired, maybe you can start telling me some stories from the inside.”

  “Maybe I can, but not right now, okay? I want to just relax for a while.”

  “Sure, no problem. No pressure, no stress. Me be very patient.”

  Pam adjusted her noodle so that it was under her arms and around her back, let her feet float up, closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, this is heaven.”

  “Well, maybe the waiting room.”

  Jake noticed that her black bikini bottom was also less revealing than the near-thong she'd had before, but still skimpy, and had a large golden ring on each side.

  Pam murmured, “You get to do this every day?”

  Jake nodded. “Unless it's snowing.” Pam chuckled.

  “Maybe I could get used to this ... quicklier than I thought.”

  Jake laughed. “Oh, I'm sure you could. You're a quick study.”

  Pam smiled and slipped into a deep Southern accent, “Why, thank you, suh. Ah do 'preciate the compliment.”

  Jake said, “It's well deserved. Oh, do you know the difference between a fairy tale in the North and one in the South?”