The Candidate

"So, his family was wiped out by the UDR. And he blamed the British army?"

Mahoney hesitated in his answer and looked to Sir Keith who nodded his head.

"The British uniforms that the UDR wore were not stolen. They were willingly loaned by British soldiers who were well aware of the plot." Mahoney shook his head sadly.

"Jesus, and you let this killer immigrate to the US? What were you thinking?"

"What were our choices? Wet work?" Mahoney asked angrily. "There was no chance the PM was going to sanction a targeted killing of a child. We had no hard evidence to arrest him, and even if we did, what then? He would be released when he reached the age of eighteen. And then the choices would be to let him go and pray that six years in Her Majesty's prison didn't cause even more hatred towards Her Highness. Or sanction the targeted killing of someone for things they did while a child. We were in a no-win situation. That's when we approached O'Neil and made a deal with him. He would send his nephew away and Her Majesties' security services would lock everything behind the OSA."

"Whose insane idea was that?" The American asked. He was incredulous but understood the Hobson's Choice the Brits were faced with. And as long as everything was covered by the Official Secrets Act and required an eDV for access, odds were that no one would ever know that a stone killer had immigrated to the United States and was now, forty years later, quietly living the quiet life of a college professor in Austin, Texas.

Mahoney winced at the question. "It was mine.

Mahoney continued. "And in hindsight, it was a good decision. Cameron Carnahan has been a good citizen of your country. He's well-regarded in his profession and is a good family man. We've kept an eye on him from a distance over the years, because like your President Reagan said, 'Trust but verify.' We've seen no red flags or cause for concern over the last forty years."

"Yeah," said the Riley in a somewhat sardonic tone. "But now his wife is working with a presidential candidate."

And not just any candidate, the American shook his and thought to himself. The most disgusting, lecherous presidential candidate in history had chosen as his publicist the wife of one of the most dangerous men in history.

What could go wrong?

+++

Dr. Cameron Carnahan tapped a button on his iPad and the phrase on the iPad's screen was mirrored onto the white screen at the front of the classroom.

The cut worm forgives the plow.

"Today, we are going to discuss this line from Blake's Proverbs of Hell from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell. What did Blake mean by this? Was it political? Did it have something to do with the industrial revolution that was taking hold in Britain at the time? Or was it something more basic? Is the fact that a flatworm can be cut in half and become two separate living flatworms and this can happen a staggering 279 times relevant to Blake's line? Mr. Keller in the front row, please explain to us the significance to Blake of the number 279"

The grad student looked up in dismay towards Professor Carnahan. He had been subtly (he thought) texting his girlfriend.

Cam took pity on the student and continued with his lecture.

This was a graduate seminar on Romance poets and he usually began this seminar with Blake since he considered Blake to be a seminal figure among romance poems. Plus, Cam thought, Blake was a metric fuckton more interesting than Keats or Shelly.

Cam had dismissed his class a few minutes early after giving them a reading assignment for the next class. Cam just had settled into his office chair when his cell phone rang and the display came up as Acushla, the Gaelic word for 'sweetheart."

"Dia duit a bhean chéile (hello wife)," Cam said.

"Dia duit fear céile (hello husband)," KC replied. She had just reached the limit of her knowledge of Gaelic. Cam's was not much better. He had moved to the United States as a child and his knowledge of his native tongue had faded with disuse, as had his accent. Although he could still pull the Irish brogue out when he felt like it, for all intents and purposes, her husband was now a Texan through and through. Boots, jeans, and a cowboy hat. Her Irish-born husband had become as Texan as someone born and raised in Amarillo.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this call," Cam asked. "His lordship taking a nap?"

KC laughed. "I just got kicked out of a meeting because my security clearance hasn't come back yet. And it's your fault mister."

"And how is it my fault, dear wife? You're with the high and mighty and here I sit, hat in hand with my face pressed against the glass, marveling at my high-flying wife and the company she keeps."

"You're such a goof. And I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to be working with these jackasses. Your background check may not even be complete before I pack it in."

Cam paused at that. "My background check? Why am I getting a background check?"

"It's part of my background check. They have to fully vet you to make sure you're not a foreign agent. I guess it's your time in Ireland before you immigrated to America that's taking a while. I heard they even flew someone to London just to check up on you, Professor Shady."

"Well, good luck on that," Cam said. "I hope they don't find out about the banks I robbed while I was in Year 5 at school."

He laughed along with KC, but Cam had a sudden tightening in his stomach and he knew that her call was as much a warning to him as it was a simple check-in.

Perhaps it was time to reach out to a relative.

+++

Cam had sent an email from a burner email account to an email address he knew was monitored, but seldom used. The email consisted of a series of numbers followed by the message to, "add 1."

Cam was sitting at home that evening when his prepaid phone rang. There was no caller ID information displayed.

Cam tapped the green answer icon and waited silently.

There was a pause on the other end before a voice said, "Hello, lad."

Cameron chuckled. For over fifty years, his uncle had greeted him with the phrase, 'Hello Lad'. Now that Cameron was middle-aged and long past being a lad, it felt good to hear his uncle's voice. They seldom spoke, but on the occasions that they did, it was always on burner phones after first making arrangements. In this case, the instruction to "add 1" was for his uncle to add his parent's wedding date together and then add 1 digit to that number. He would then add that number to each digit of the number that Cameron had emailed him and that was the number to the burner phone. It was simple and would generally fool anyone who was not a cryptographer who might be reading their mail.

"Hello, uncle. How are you keeping? I've been watching how you vote over there. You seem to be leaning more conservative as you get older."

Gary O'Neil snorted. "I used to laugh at the old MPs who went to the right as they got older. Now I'm the one doing it. So, what did you need Cam?"

"Have you kept up with what KC is doing?"

"I saw that she was working for that wanker Sachs. Bloody useless pile of dog shit if you ask me."

"She is working for him. At least for now. I just found out that giving her a security clearance involves a background check on me. All the way back."

"Fuck," Gary said. "Anything having to do with your previous life is covered by the Official Secrets Act, but as you know, that can be pierced."

"What would happen if it comes to light? I was only eight the first time I pulled the trigger and twelve the last time. I can't imagine the Brits punishing me after all this time."

"No, at this point it's a matter of public embarrassment. Both the Queen and Lady Thatcher are dead and gone. They're the ones who signed off on your move to the States. There are a lot of people still around that would be embarrassed. They despise me to this day and I haven't picked up a gun in a half-century. With your... what do the Americans call it...body count? With your body count the King may feel the need to retaliate. They now call it a targeted killing. That's when the government does the assassination. They call what you were doing back then murder."

"It was payback. Fucking UDR murderers. Mum and Da never had a prayer!" If KC had been listening, she would have been shocked by her husband's Irish brogue, suddenly as thick as that of a character in a Seán O'Casey play.

"I know son. I know. I'll reach out and see what I can find out. I'm still in touch with one of the MI5 lads from back in the day. I'll let you know what he says. Give me a couple of days." With that, the connection was broken and Cameron thoughtfully took a sip of bourbon.

+++

"Who needs another drink?" asked Jerry Kowalski.

The mood in the suite was jubilant. The latest polls showed that Albert Sachs was now comfortably in the lead. The religious right had inexplicably bought into what Sachs was selling. A blend of populism and old-time religion that was completely divorced from the reality of who Sachs was. The media was comparing him to Willie Stark, the politician at the center of Robert Penn Warren's novel, "All the King's Men." Stark's character had been modeled on Huey P. Long, the assassinated former governor of Louisiana whose populism and demagoguery had terrified mainstream politicians in the 1930s.

Sachs had a comfortable lead heading into the primaries and was suddenly receiving endorsements from politicians that were, until very recently, calling for his excommunication from the party. There was even talk of providing him with secret service protection, although by Treasury Department rules, major candidates did not start receiving protection until one hundred and twenty days prior to the election.

Kowalski made his way around the room with the bottle of Krystal, topping off everyone's glass.

"Just a half glass for me," KC said.

"You got it," said Jerry as he topped off her glass while smoothly dropping a palmed tablet into the fizzy, sparkling wine.

Jerry gave a slight nod to the boss who returned the nod with a wolfish smile. Willie caught the interaction between the boss and his campaign manager and sighed. He liked KC. She was always nice to him and treated him with respect. But the boss paid the bills. And sometimes gave him a taste.

After a few minutes, KC started yawning. That was the cue for Kowalski to start shooing out the other occupants of the presidential suite.

"Are you all right, KC?" Jerry asked.

"So sleepy," she replied with a yawn. She had not noticed that the suite had emptied of everyone but Albert, Jerry, Willie, and her.

+++

KC awoke with a start. She had a headache and felt hungover. She was also sore and moaned in discomfort as she threw back her blanket. She was nude and as she stood, she looked down at her body and screamed. She had bruises and bite marks around her breasts and thighs. Her vagina was red and swollen and covered in dried semen. She knew that she had been raped and she knew who had raped her. Or at least she thought she did. She remembered Sachs, Jerry, and Willie were in the suite. But were there others? She remembered there were a dozen or so people in the suite celebrating the latest poll numbers, but after that, her memories were fuzzy. She didn't know who had assaulted her, but she knew that someone had and she was going to confront the chief suspects right now.

Willie eventually opened the suite door to KC's relentless pounding. She stormed through the door, shouting.

"Where is he? Where is that sonofabitch? Or is it they? Are you in on this Willie? Did you rape me too?"

"I was there, Ms. KC. When the boss offers it to me, I accept. The boss and Mr. Kowalski aren't here right now. But the boss told me to call him when you get here. I'll do that now."

Willie hit a speed dial button and then the speaker icon on his phone and it was answered almost immediately.

"I know you're pissed off KC," Sachs jumped right into it. "But two things you should know; number one is I don't give a flying fuck if you're mad. Number two is that right now, you think you're going to the cops. You're not. Willie, show her the video."

Willie pointed a remote control towards a large TV hanging on the wall in front of where they sat. KC saw that she was being sexually assaulted by both Albert and Jerry although two large black boxes had been superimposed over them to obscure their identities. At one point, she was on her hands and knees with Jerry's penis in her mouth and Albert taking her from behind. They raised their hands and high-fived each other. KC had heard this called and Eiffel Tower and at the time it had disgusted her. Today it made her sick with anger.

But what shocked her the most was the expression on her face. She looked like she was having orgasm after orgasm. She was laughing and smiling and looked like she was having the time of her life.

"What did you give me?" KC shouted.

"Just a little rohypnol, ecstasy, and cocaine. With a little Ambien thrown in for good measure. Listen, I know that you want to go to the cops, but you see the look on your face. You're enjoying playing the whore for us. Last night was us breaking you in. We want more out of you or else your husband gets a copy of the recording. You keep quiet, keep putting out and in a couple of weeks you can go back to your life. Oh yeah, I know that you were going to quit us. Jerry and I had a bet on who was going to get you first. When we found out you were quitting, we decided to spit-roast you."

KC was breathing hard and was about to hyperventilate when she heard Sachs speak again.

"So go to your room and get some sleep and then take a shower. You're covered in cum and it is gross. Jerry and I are in meetings in DC tonight and then the next day we're meeting with the Baptist Convention about their endorsement. After that, we're all going to the Iowa State Fair the next day. And we are going to have fun, Sachs style. Oh, by the way; your Top-Secret clearance came through. Your husband's background check didn't turn up anything. Just another potato-eating orphan."

KC disconnected the phone and ran back to her room. She cried great, heaving sobs for a few minutes, and then got hold of herself. She then did the one thing that neither Albert nor Jerry had considered a possibility.

She called her husband.

+++

The Iowa State Fair was a "can't miss" stop for any presidential candidate. Sachs' private plane had landed that morning, and after checking in to their hotel, Sachs and his key election staff of Jerry Kowalski, Willie, and KC had rented a black SUV for Willie to drive them to the fair. Once they had arrived at the fair, KC declared that she was going to check out the livestock.

She shrugged and said, "I'm a Texas girl. I grew up around cattle and horses."

"Don't wander off or get too tired," Sachs said with a menacing laugh. "We've got some business to finish up tonight."

As she wandered through the livestock stalls, she paused in front of a huge Percheron horse and read the mare's history. As she read, she felt a presence behind her and an arm reach around to pull her tight.

"Oh, baby! I'm so sorry," KC sobbed. She turned to hug her husband and as his arms tightened around her, she let out the emotions that she had held in for the last two days. It was quiet at this end of the livestock area so KC was free to cry in her husband's arms.

She eventually stopped crying and gently pushed herself away. Cam looked completely at home in the livestock pens. He wore his Wranglers, boots, and a cowboy hat. The only non-cowboy item was the black messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

As they wandered hand-in-hand through the fairgrounds, Cameron thought back to the conversation with his uncle earlier in the day. Gary O'Neil had some answers.

"MI5 had an inquiry regarding you this past week from the Americans. My contact is the one that got called in to meet with him. My contact told the American all about you."

That was not good news. Cam had kept a very low profile for over forty years. The thought of everything blowing up in his face was disheartening.

"What are the Americans going to do?" Cam asked, forgetting for a moment that he was an American and had been one for over thirty years.

"Nothing," Gary said.

"Nothing?" Cam asked incredulously. "I can't believe that they are not going to do anything."

"Believe it. They aren't going to do anything. They told my contact that they were going to give you a clean bill of health and forget all about it."

"I can't believe that's all there is to it."

"And you would be right. I know that my contact knows what happened with KC from the Americans. What Sachs did to her.

"I rather think they believe you will sort everything out, Cam. It seems he's not the most popular man in America is he, your Mr. Sachs?"

Cam and KC walked around the fairgrounds taking in the sights and eating fair food. They avoided the speeches from the gaggle of candidates that had descended upon Iowa as the first primary state.

As Cam and KC walked through the parking lot, they could see Sachs' SUV on the outskirts of the parking area. Their space was well-lit and stood at a distance from other vehicles. Police vehicles were in the area but no officers were near Sachs' SUV. Willie was standing next to the vehicle as Sachs and Kowalski approached it. They could see Sachs talking to Willie and then Willie pointing towards Cam and KC as they approached the black vehicle.

"You must be KC's husband," Albert asked, with a smarmy smile. He stuck his hand out to shake Cam's hand.

"KC, we have some things to go over tonight. Hop in the car. I'm sure your husband can find his way back to the hotel."

"No worries," Cam said. "KC is just going to walk me over to my car. You can have her back in just a few minutes. There are a couple of things I need to tell her."

"How sweet," Albert said. He wore a smug smile. "Take your time. I'm sure you have no secrets from each other."

Albert slid into the back seat and Jerry got into the front passenger seat. Willie closed Albert's door as Albert lowered his window. Willie then walked around the vehicle to take his place behind the steering wheel.

"We don't have any secrets from each other. I know everything about her life and she knows everything about mine." Cam gave Albert a hard look which he found disconcerting.

As Cam and KC walked towards Cam's car, Willie watched them walk away through the rearview mirror. He thought something looked different about KC's husband, the professor, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Jerry and Albert were laughing and talking about what they were going to do to KC when they got back to the hotel.

"She's going to be drinking Sachs' water directly from the tap," Albert chortled.

"Tonight, I want her ass," Jerry laughed.

The thought of using and abusing KC and then sending her back to her husband had them both hot and ready to go.

"Where is the bitch?" Albert asked. "How long does it take to tell your cuck hubby goodbye?"

"I think she may have left already. I think I saw her get into a car with her husband," Willie said. It was at that moment Willie remembered what was different about the professor. He was no longer wearing the black messenger bag. He had been wearing it when he and KC walked up to the car but...

Willie never got a chance to complete his thought.

As Cam and KC exited the parking lot, a loud WHUMP caused the ground to tremble and sent a flash of light into the night sky.

As they pulled onto the road heading towards town, Cam picked up KC's hand, brought it to his face, and planted a kiss on the back.

"Are you going to be okay?"