Below is the First Offenders' contribution to Bryon Quertermous and Dave White's third Blog Short Story contest. The rules were that it couldn't be longer than 1,000 words and blogging had to be involved. Enjoy!
Smoking Gun
By Karen E. Olson
He couldn’t figure it out,
though. He was sure he’d locked it up
tighter than a fucking drum. There had
been no proof. But as he clicked to
“Watch Again” over and over, he knew. Someone had been there. Someone
had a camera. And now it was all over.
He couldn’t stand it anymore, but he had to see if it
was out there yet. He clicked on his
bookmarked pages.
They all had links to the video. The Daily Kos said his career was over;
Andrew Sullivan was calling for an immediate criminal investigation. Drudge led his page with it, with all those
goddamn flashing police lights and in blood red letters: “Senator shot on
tape.”
The phone rang on the desk, startling him in the
dark, the glow of the computer screen illuminating his office. He glanced at the number, flipped the cover,
said nothing.
“Senator?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve got CNN calling, Senator. And Fox News. And CBS, and, well, shit, all of them.” His press guy was pissed. He
didn’t really blame him, but he was still the boss.
“What are you telling them?”
“I’ve stalled, said I would try to reach you. What can I tell them?” James’ tone was
demanding; he couldn’t blame him for that.
Now that it was out, it wouldn’t take anyone long to
put the pieces together.
He’d gotten the email in his personal inbox — not the one for the public, not even one that
James knew about, but the one he used just for very close family and friends —
just seconds before the video showed up:
“Here’s a link to something you might find
interesting.”
It had looked like spam initially — he almost deleted
it without opening it — but then the letters in the middle of the strand of
numbers caught his eye and tugged at his memory. EWB.
Edmund White Barton.
It couldn’t be. He clicked on the link and ended up at YouTube. Only 4 viewers the first time. Now there were over 3,000.
He’d been so careful. But here it was, and there he was, staring at the camera. Where the hell had it been?
“Senator?” James was still waiting for an answer.
What the fuck could he say now? No, it really isn’t me?
Jesus, anyone who watched the news these days would
recognize him. He’d risen from a
freshman senator to head the judiciary committee in just 12 years. His face was all over goddamn C-Span every
day.
It had been six months. He’d started to feel safe; no one would
know. Barton’s disappearance barely made
a blip. He started the rumors himself:
Someone told him Barton had taken a job out West somewhere. That was always happening. Lobbyists came and went like yesterday’s
news.
He’d rented the boat under an anonymous name, paid
cash, wore a hat and sunglasses, the guy hadn’t even glanced at him twice. Barton had been waiting outside with the
fishing gear. Barton was a smarmy
bastard, even though he’d been useful early on. But all those lobbyists were smarmy. Usually, though, once the votes were in and their bosses were happy,
they laid off a little. Barton didn’t.
The Senator knew he shouldn’t have taken as much as
he did. All those free trips, the hot
tub at the country house, the deposits into his Cayman account. Barton seemed to have an unending supply of
cash and trinkets that he dangled before the Senator, teasing him until the
Senator couldn’t say no anymore.
But when he became chairman of the judiciary
committee, he started saying no. He
couldn’t afford the risk anymore. Barton
was pissed; the Senator voted the wrong way. Barton reminded him about what he’d done. That he could destroy him. The Senator told him he’d changed his mind. Why don’t they go fishing, they’d done that
before, it had been a long time. They
could talk about it.
The video showed the Senator pulling out the gun,
firing, Barton falling overboard with the impact. There was no sound, but it didn’t need it.
The body had gone down quickly, and he’d spun the
boat around, headed back to the dock. When he got there, he didn’t see anyone except the same guy behind the
counter inside, who again barely looked at him as he turned over the key.
Barton was such an asshole that no one gave a shit
when he wasn’t around anymore. The
Senator had expected someone from Barton’s lobby to call him at some point, he
expected to repeat what he’d told everyone else, but no one ever did.
He kept James waiting as he froze the video, a clear
picture of his own face. Where was the
camera? Who put it there? Barton?
How could someone rise from the dead?
The computer dinged, indicating he’d gotten an
email. “Hold on a second, James,” he
said, hitting the “hold” button on the phone and putting the receiver
down. He clicked on his email icon.
From 156EBW234 again. He clicked again.
“So how’s that working out for you?”
That was it. If this was an attempt at a bribe, there was
no mention of it. No, this was a
deliberate attempt to take him down. And
it would work.
He hit “reply.”
“What do you want?” It was a futile question, but maybe would
elicit a clue as to who this was, what was going on.
While he waited, he took James off
hold. “Don’t say anything. Don’t return the calls.”
“What’s going on?”
Another email popped into his
inbox. “I’ll call you back.”
He hung up, looked at the response.
"Next time you think you've killed someone, make sure he doesn't have a bullet-proof vest on."
*****
For more stories, check out these links (and Bryon's and Dave's at the top):
Pari Noskin Taichert, "The Cat's Meow"
David Montgomery, "AmberSki77"
Gerald So, "Confession of a Spenser Fan"
Anthony Rainone, "Burning Down the House"
Stephen Allan,"Take That, You Prick"
Patricia Abbott: "Re: University Protocol on Incidents of Student Plagiarism"
Mike MacLean, "How Does it Feel?"
Stephen D. Rogers, "Comments Enabled"
Christa Miller, "Blogging a Fantasy"
Bill Crider, "The Sunshine of My Wife"
John DuMond, "The Truth Hurts"
More will be added throughout the day.
Oh, this is a really good one. The politican angle works beautifully.
Posted by: patti abbott | March 05, 2007 at 09:42 AM
The paranoia is palpable. Great job.
Posted by: Gerald So | March 05, 2007 at 10:02 AM
Nice! Very tight, and the end is a great twist.
Posted by: Christa Miller | March 05, 2007 at 10:19 AM
ewwww.
Great hook.
Even better ending . . . loved the snare and the shock of it.
Posted by: Pari Noskin Taichert | March 05, 2007 at 10:45 AM
Oh Karen, I see a new series in your future! Great short story. I want to meet these characters again someplace. Preferably not near some small fishing shack.
Posted by: Louise Ure | March 05, 2007 at 10:56 AM
A nice air of running suspicion and a fine final line.
Posted by: John Rickards | March 05, 2007 at 11:17 AM
Love the twist at the ending. Very nice.
Posted by: JDRhoades | March 05, 2007 at 11:21 AM
Oh, that's nice. I like the deviousness of it.
Posted by: David J. Montgomery | March 05, 2007 at 11:22 AM
Fine build-up and a neat payoff.
Posted by: Bill Crider | March 05, 2007 at 02:54 PM
If only the Senator had known that Barton had just come from a hunting trip with Dick Cheney. ;)
Great job! A twist worthy of O Henry.
Posted by: J. Carson Black | March 05, 2007 at 03:52 PM
Thanks for the kind words, everyone. This was my first foray into short crime fiction and I'm happy that it succeeded.
I've been slowly making my way through the other stories since I got home from work and in between violin lessons, etc. They're all really good!
Jake, there could be a whole book about Barton and Cheney :)
Posted by: Karen | March 05, 2007 at 04:21 PM
Political intrigue always gets me. Nice topic and surprising twist at the end. Really like the character names you chose.
Posted by: Anthony Rainone | March 05, 2007 at 07:02 PM
Excellent story, Karen. Love the twist!
Posted by: AlisonGaylin | March 06, 2007 at 08:47 AM
I like it, Karen! Maybe you can do something with that as a book series too!
Posted by: Compudoc | March 06, 2007 at 01:40 PM
A full mystery in such a short space. Great work, Karen.
Posted by: Daniel Hatadi | March 06, 2007 at 08:05 PM