The Blackfire Protocol by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 39

The end of the semester arrived more quickly than Frank had anticipated, and just before finals, he announced to his classes that he was leaving for a career change. One brave student raised a hand. “Yes,” he said.

“What will you be doing?” the student asked. Frank hesitated as he formulated the words he would use for his response. He didn’t want to seem as though he was giving up on teaching and taking the risk of it reflecting badly on his students. He did enjoy the company of his students—the conversations that took place on all aspects of the document that founded the country and how it had been twisted into something nearly unrecognizable

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by those seeking absolute power. However, it was this idea that made him uncomfortable as he told his students what his next step would be. “Actually,” he began. “I’m going into politics. I’ll be running in the next election for a seat in the federal congress.”

The reaction of his students in every class was completely unexpected, and they got to their feet and loudly applauded. By the end of finals, his teaching career had come to a close, leaving Frank sitting in office wondering if he had done the right thing. But as he began packing up his possessions, he was interrupted by the two men who had frequented him in his apartment. However, there was something different about them. At first glance, they looked almost identical to the two men who had been visiting him from the very beginning, but a second look told him otherwise. These were two different men.

“You’re not the guys who visited me the last time, are you?” he asked. “What happened to them?” Without missing a step, the man who stood closest spoke up.

“They’ve been reassigned,” he replied. Frank tried to guess as to what might have happened to them. Had they been killed? Were they grooming someone else for politics? Perhaps they went into deep cover. One thing was certain: these two weren’t saying anything.

“So,” he began. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” It had also occurred to him that these men, like the last, had never revealed their names. This would make anyone uncomfortable.

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“Your campaign starts soon,” the man replied. “Next week you’ll be in a recording studio reading a script. Your voice coach will be there.”

Voice coach? With everyone else that had been hired, they had also brought in a voice coach. Frank sat down at his desk in an attempt to absorb the process that would soon begin.

“The next week,” the man continued. “You’ll be in front of a video camera. You’ll be dressed in a suit and reading from a teleprompter. You might want to get used to doing that, by the way.” Frank had always assumed that running for office was a major undertaking, but he would soon be informed of someone else who would be working with him.

“We’re also setting you up with a theater professor,” the man said.

He would have someone to teach him the finer points of acting. It took only moments for him to make a brief review of history, as he recalled that Hitler had a theater coach as well. Oddly, Frank wasn’t bothered by this fact, believing that if he was to win his first political office, he would have to do whatever it took to sway the voters. And he would have to smile - a lot.

Now that he was, for the most part, unemployed, he would need money, and a professor’s salary barely met DC’s high cost of living; the one thing he didn’t want to do was live off his savings. Having anticipated this, the man still standing closest to him handed Frank a large brown envelope. He didn’t have to be told what was in it, but he was surprised by how thick it was. Opening it, he calmly joked about its contents.

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“Oh, for me,” he said. “Christmas already?” Looking inside, he held back his reaction as two one-inch-wrapped stacks of twenties and fifties revealed themselves.

“You know,” he continued. “The bank might have a few questions about depositing large bills. I might have to deposit this a little at a time.” With expressionless faces, the men started towards the door, but as the more talkative one entered the hallway he turned back with one last remark. “Just do what you’re told, and there will be more.” Disappearing down the hallway, Frank was left with the uneasy feeling that comes with knowing someone else is now pulling the strings on his life. But he was not willing to back out—not out of fear, but because he knew what the results were supposed to be, and he wanted what they wanted—power.