The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology (49 page)

When Donne passed Emily's desk on his way to the Oval Office, he
said, “Could you get John Kelly over at Treasury and Al Johnson
at the Fed on the phone for me, Em?”

“Sure, Gordy.”

“And when those Broadway union guys get here, have the FBI hold
them in the vans outside for a good couple of hours and then bring
them in.”

“Will do, Gordy.”

“Thanks, doll.”

“C'mon, Gordy.”

“Okay, okay. Mom.”

“Be careful or I'll sneak some tofu into your cheeseburgers.”

“Yes, Mom.”

He headed on into the Oval Office, chuckling, leaving Emily also
chuckling.

-101-

Two Months Earlier

Saturday, December 17, 2011

5:27 p.m.

Bonita Springs, Florida

”Great party, Marti.”

“Thanks, Pam. And thanks for bringing the deviled eggs;
they're delicious. Never had 'em with peanut butter mixed in before.
And thanks for pronouncing my name right; most people say it like it
ends in a Y.”

“Jake told me about that and coached me. But if I screw it up,
please accept my apology in advance.”

“No problem. I'm just glad you were able to make it and I was
able to meet you at last. Jake wasn't sure about your schedule.”

“I got it cleared; this seemed important to him. And I'm glad
I was able to make it, too. It's nice to finally meet you; I've
heard a lot about you and Captain Dave. He's really a native
Floridian?”

“Yup, born and raised in Fort Myers, just up the road.”

“And he does fishing charters?”

“Yup. Best native guide around, but I'm a little biased.”

“Hey, Marti, the first boat's coming!”

“On our way, Dave,” Marti replied, as she and Pam
finished filling their plates and headed out to the deck, where the
whole gang was gathered at the railing, watching the first decorated
boat heading up the Imperial River, a Santa and six elves waving to
the shore, with “Jingle Bells” playing over a
loudspeaker.

“Cool,” Pam said, as the gang on the deck waved and
hollered back at the boat. “Ringside seats.”

“Yup,” Marti said and nodded. Then she looked over at
Jake, who was sitting with an older man at a table, and whispered to
Pam, “I think you two make a great couple.”

“Thanks, Marti; I do, too,” Pam whispered back.

“Hey, girls, no whispering,” the man with Jake said,
slurring his words slightly. “Come on over and join us.”

“Oh, Paul, behave yourself,” a woman's voice came from
behind Marti and Pam.

“You, too, Gayle; come on over and join us. Jake's gonna put
us in his book.”

“You two go ahead; I've gotta play hostess,” Marti said.
“Hey, Jake, you doin' okay on your limeade?”

“Just fine, Marti; thanks.”

Jake got up and pulled out a chair for Pam; Gayle sat down next to
Paul.

“So, Jake, what's this about?”

“He's gonna put us in his book.”

“I'm asking Jake.”

“Just your first names; I'm putting friends' names in the book
when I can, rather than just making 'em up. And I've got just the
scene in mind for you two.”

“Go on, tell her, Jake. Gayle, you're gonna love this.”

“Okay. It's Donne's first press conference, and there's this
40-ish family, three kids, driving to the beach, Bonita Beach, and
the dad has his tablet, 'cause he wants to watch it. And that's how
it leads into the press conference. I made up some names for the
parents, but if you two are okay with it, I can swap those out easily
and stick yours in.”

“I'm fine with that, Gayle. What d'ya say?”

Gayle thought for a while, then said, “Oh, what the heck? Okay
by me.”

“Cool,” Jake said. “Let me make a note, so I don't
forget.”

“Jake, you never forget anything,” Marti said, as she
brought a platter of chicken wings, a shrimp ring, a plate of Pam's
deviled eggs and a big bowl of meat balls and her homemade sauce to
the table.

“Sorry,” said Jake, looking up at Marti, “what's
your name again, waitress? And could we get some more of that great
tofu casserole the chef made? Thanks.” He turned to Paul.
“So, Paul, when you --”

“Oh, Jake,” Marti said, laughing, as she slapped him
lightly on the shoulder and he smiled back at her. Pam chuckled.

“So, Jake, how's the book coming?” Gayle asked. “Still
coming out this month?”

“Nope,” Jake said. “I ran into a snag with some
assho- – excuse me – some idiot lawyers.”

“What happened?” Paul asked.

“I got a letter in October claiming I was using a trademark
without permission and to cease and desist. So I had to do a bunch
of research on that, and figured I'd lose if I fought it. So I went
back and took out all the references that used brand names, and that
ticked me off and slowed me down a lot.

“And then I got another one in early November from another
lawyer who said I couldn't use fat, gay Representative from
Massachusetts' name with his masseur, so I had to change that to
'fat, gay Representative from Massachusetts,' and that only added to
my anger and the delay.”

“Lawyers can be such assholes,” Paul said angrily. “I
had to deal with whole gangs of 'em before I sold the agency, and
even afterwards. I remember one time --”

“So, Pam,” Gayle cut in, “how did you and Jake
meet?” Pam and Jake glanced at each other and chuckled. Marti
joined in.

“Did I say something funny?” Gayle asked perplexedly.

“No, no, Gayle,” Pam said. “It's just – just
--”

“You wouldn't believe it,” Marti said. “I didn't
when Jake told me.”

Pam looked at Jake and said, “Go ahead, Jake. You tell it.”

“You sure, Pam?” Pam nodded and smiled. “Okay.

“Well, there was this big gorilla head that popped out of the
Gulf while Pam was interrogating me --”

“Wait. What?” Paul mumbled.

Marti cut in. “You remember. I sent you the link to the
stories in the paper last summer. Remember?”

“Oh, that was YOU?” Gayle exclaimed. “YOU'RE the
Secret Service agent?”

“Was,” said Pam. “I've retired.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” Paul said. “We saw
some videos online. You know you've got over a million hits?”

Pam and Jake exchanged another glance and giggled.

“No, not that kind of videos,” Gayle said. “The
ones with the bullets flying and people screaming.”

“Now, THAT's a story,” Paul said. “You guys oughta
write that one up.”

“Maybe once I get the Donne one done,” Jake said.

“Hey, Jake, I was in advertising; I know what I'm talking
about,” Paul pressed. “That's a story I could sell easy.
Think about it.”

“Okay,” Jake said, “I will, Paul.”

“What do you think, Pam?” Paul continued.

“I'd have some concerns, Paul,” she answered, blushing
slightly. “I'm not sure the Service would be too happy. But
I'll think about it, too, and we'll talk it over. Okay, Jake?”

“Uh, yeah, okay.”

“You do that, guys,” Paul said, “and let me know.
I could help a lot with that.” He took another deviled egg and
popped it in in one piece, rolled his eyes in delight.

“I think that's a great idea,” Marti added.

“So do I,” Captain Dave added, having heard the tail end
of the conversation.

“Okay, okay; we'll think about it. Promise,” Jake said.

“Marti, these eggs are great. Can you give Gayle the recipe?”

“Not mine, Paul. Pam brought 'em.”

“Not only stunning, but a good cook. Great.” Pam
blushed.

Jake asked, “Oh, Paul, where was your agency? I've forgotten.”

“Philly.”

“Right, right. I'll move it to, uh, maybe Chicago for the
book, okay?”

“Works for me. Okay with you, Cakes?”

“Fine,” Gayle replied.

“Cakes?” Jake asked, looking up from his notebook.

“Pet name,” Paul replied. Gayle blushed. Jake made a
note.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Jake said, “Another
thing that held me up was that things keep coming up that I want to
stick in there, like the Super Committee's announcement last month.”

“What Super Committee?” Gayle asked.

“The one that got set up by Congress last August, to come up
with a bipartisan plan for deficit reduction by November 23rd. They
made an announcement that they couldn't come up with anything on the
21st, and nothing came of that, other than more crappy political
grandstanding.”

“As usual,” Paul grunted. “Idiots.” Another
few moments of silence followed.

“Hey, maybe you guys can help me with something,” Jake
said. “I'm thinking of having my guy suggest moving the
government from Washington to some small town somewhere, and I was
thinking of Bonita. Any other ideas? Anybody?”

“Hmm,” Gayle said, “we just got back from a trip to
Oklahoma to see Ray, our grandson; he's a bull rider, competes all
over. Maybe – Paul, what was the name of that place with the
great diner?”

“Ahhhmmm, Lenox?”

“No, no, that was the name of the diner.”

“Best hamburger I ever had.”

“And the cherry limeade was delish, too,” Gayle
continued. “But what was the name of the town?”

“Oh, wait. Ahhh, Valentine?”

“No, Paul; that was something about the type of building, I
think.”

“Ah, Enid,” Paul said, snapping his fingers.

“That's it; Enid, Oklahoma.”

“Great burgers.”

“You said that, Paul.”

“Hey, Jake, Ray told us one about the two cowboys sitting
around the campfire after their first day working together. Heard
it?”

“Oh, no, Paul; don't tell that one.”

“Aw, Cakes, it's funny.”

“It may be, but I've heard it so many --”

“Nope, haven't heard it,” Jake said. “Pam?”

“New to me.”

“Okay, so they're talking about all kinds of stuff, sports,
politics, nothing about art or religion, and finally they get talking
about sex. And one says, 'I just like the missionary position.' And
the other guy says, 'Nah, boring. I like the rodeo position.'
'Rodeo position? What's that?'

“'Well, ya git both of ya buck nekkid, git 'er down on the bed
or floor on all fours, get in from behind and then reach around and
grab her tits and say, 'Wow, these feel jus' like your sister's,' and
see if you can hang on for eight seconds.'” Paul laughed
loudly, Jake and Pam joined in, more quietly, Marti chuckled and
Gayle blushed.

“I'm driving us home, Paul. You're drunk.”

“Naw, Cakes, I'm fine.”

“I've got the keys. I'm driving.”

As Paul and Gayle continued their discussion, Pam leaned over and
whispered to Jake, “Let's try that tonight.”

Jake paused for a beat, smiled and whispered back, “What? Sit
around a campfire and talk?”

Pam slapped him lightly on the forearm and said, “Oh, Jake,”
and laughed.

“Gotcha.”

“Nope, that doesn't count.”

“What'd I miss?” Paul asked.

“Nothing, Paul, nothing,” Jake said. “Hey, that's
a pretty cool boat,” and they all turned to watch the rest of
the parade, emptying their plates of Marti's delicious home-cooked
cuisine and Pam's eggs.

After the parade, Gayle drove Paul home, and Pam and Jake, in her
new sixth-floor condo, experimented with the Rodeo position, which
they found fairly silly, then with Boarding the Stagecoach (awkward,
but tolerable), both versions of the Synchronized Duck Walk
(impossible to maintain, and they quacked up over both) and finally
the Two-Leg Intertwined Pogo Stick (painful, both before and after
they lost their balance; luckily, no bones were broken in the fall).

Then, ready for a return to some degree of normalcy, they swapped
sensual massages, which led to another deeply intimate, but this time
comfortably horizontal, encounter between Stevie Bruce and Ginny May,
after which Jake and Pam finally fell into an exhausted, deep sleep
in each other's arms.

As the sun rose, the Bolero played again … twice.

-102-

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

2:09 p.m.

The Oval Office

Washington, DC

“Thanks, Emily. Got it.

“Hey, John, Al, good morning … And backatcha …
Okay, I've got two issues – three, actually … first,
John, how are you doing on getting that IPO set up on Yellowstone?
Right, non-voting shares, restricted sales, no dividend,
institutional ownership only, minimum amount a million bucks. I've
got the social media folks working on a subtle, stealthy dog-and-pony
show. Rumors, denials, the whole schmeer … yup, I think right
around the Fourth should be a good time. Good. Keep me posted,
okay? Good.

“Al, when John announces the 50-year bond auction for next
month, I want to see you and your people sending out some quiet
rumors that you're very interested in those instruments … no,
no, no, I'm not expecting you to buy them all … or even any of
them. I want you and John both to punch up demand for those,
especially with the Chinese. I want to see them buying as close to
all of that entire issue as we can get them to. I've asked Wes to
push some rumors out through his teams, as well … well, of
course. He's a solid partner in this whole process. I want them to
think that they've got to bid for the whole 600 billion in order to
get any, and I can't have any leaks that will lead back here. I
mean, they'll probably figure some of it out, but they can't let
themselves lose too much face by not participating. And then we'll
have them right where we want them, if all goes well.

“Good, Al, good. John, everything clear with you on that?
Yup, scarcity, scarcity, scarcity. But do it subtly, below the
radar. Get it going as if it came from the primary dealers who are
drooling to get a piece of it. Right, just like we did it back at
DEI with the Venezuelans.

“Right, John. Al, you got it all clear? Great. Okay. See
ya.”

As soon as he hung up, Emily buzzed him. “Gordy, I've got the
mayor of New York City holding for you.”