The Blackfire Protocol by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 45

From that point on, Frank’s campaign ran like a well-oiled top, capturing the country’s attention and satisfying the hopes of the voting public. Everywhere he spoke, he generated the same response. Some, however, found it difficult to believe that a Republican could be such a humanitarian and began looking for flaws in his

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character. Then there were the people who tried to undermine his campaign, even though he was now running unopposed. But by the time November arrived, his electoral win was nearly assured. He didn’t even need to watch the polls, but when his victory was finally announced, he didn’t seem to take it very seriously, seeing it as somewhat hollow. There can be no victory when there is no enemy to do battle with.

It was on this evening that Betsy noticed Frank’s sullen mood, and as he sat in the office of what would soon become his former campaign headquarters, she walked in and quietly sat in front of him.

“What’s up?” she asked.

Frank maintained an indifferent attitude, but eventually broke his silence.

“I don’t know,” he began. “It doesn’t really feel like I won anything. I ran unopposed because someone had a heart attack. It just doesn’t seem like it was a fair fight. Shit, I didn’t even vote.” Betsy stared at him in disbelief. It was tradition for one running for office to vote for themselves. “Frank,” she said. “I saw you go into the booth. You did vote, didn’t you?”

He smiled as he confessed to his actions once inside the voting booth.

“Actually,” he replied. “I did a write-in.”

“What?!” Betsy asked. “You voted on a fucking write-in. Frank, it’s tradition for you to vote for yourself.”

He acted like the cat caught with the canary.

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“I know,” he said. “But what’s the point? I was the only person running.”

Betsy sat back in the leather chair and asked Frank one more question, one she wasn’t sure she wanted answered.

“Alright,” she began. “Who did you vote for?” One’s vote is always a personal matter and rarely to be discussed with anyone, but Frank, responding with a grin, answered her question. “Actually,” he began. “I voted for you.” Betsy burst into laughter, uncertain if he was telling the truth or simply making a joke. “Come on,” she said. “You didn’t.” Frank’s response was quick and honest. “Well, you can do as good a job as I can—maybe better. So, what the fuck, I voted for you.” Betsy continued laughing at what she thought was unbelievable. No candidate in their right mind would vote for anyone but themselves, and Frank swore her to secrecy on the matter.

“Okay,” she said. “My lips are sealed.” As secrets go, this one was not quite as serious as others, and once he began working on the Senate floor, he discovered things that prompted a great deal more secrecy.

Frank sat in his chair and watched as Betsy began to compose herself, and after she recovered, he extended an invitation to dinner.

“A victory dinner?” she asked. “Really?”

“Well, not really,” he answered. “I mean, you have to define what a victory really is, right?” Letting one of her shoes dangle from her toe, she asked what occasion they were celebrating, if not a

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victory. Betsy already knew where the invitation was leading.

“So,” she began. “I guess I get to sleep with a new senator, huh? I mean, you haven’t even been sworn in yet.”

Frank knew that playful tone when he heard it and decided to briefly play along.

“Well,” he said. “Doesn’t this happen to every politician? They do seem to get their pick, don’t they?”

Betsy looked at him with a matter-of-fact expression. “Yes,” she replied. “Yes, they do. So, where do you want to go for dinner?”

He continued playing along with one more joking comment.

“So,” he said. “I guess the deal is sealed, isn’t it?” Rolling her eyes, Betsy brought an end to their suggestive conversation.

“Come on,” she said. “I’m hungry and horny, and I need to be fed in that order.”

Standing up, she grabbed his hand and, pulling him from his chair, noticed how fortunate they were that they were alone in the campaign office. Everyone else, including the management staff, had gone home, likely believing there was no reason to stay. The victory dance was over.