The Frankenstein Candidate (22 page)

Immediately, the administration publicly condemned Israel before the Israelis even had the opportunity to consider this option. Yet Larry found out that the administration had privately discussed with CIA operatives whether to encourage Israel to do just what Sharif suggested.

Rumors that IFG and Sixth National Bank were in financial trouble thickened. A run on the Sixth National first began on the West Coast, in Portland, Oregon, before spreading to Los Angeles and then to San Francisco.

The Federal Reserve, led by the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco, acted decisively. Sixth and IFG were asked to issue certificates of deposit in the hundreds of millions each, and the Federal Reserve itself secured over 90 percent of it in a tender. The 90 percent was disguised, as the Fed acted via other banks acting as intermediaries. The taxpayers had effectively loaned over one hundred billion dollars to IFG and Sixth National, and no one, not even Capitol Hill or Congress, knew about it. Larry Fox found out, but what amazed Olivia even more was that Colin decided not to air it.
There’s more to learn for me, but wasn’t I going to be the voice of the people?
Olivia thought to herself.

The week before Super Tuesday, rebels camped in northern Syria managed to bomb numerous critical targets: airport terminals, runways, shipyards, power stations, bridges, and dams. There was no mistaking that Syria was experiencing civil unrest of unprecedented proportions.

Quentin Kirby had to yet again suspend his campaign and fly to Washington for an urgent Cabinet meeting. President Young ordered a surge of ten thousand new troops to Syria. Colin attacked the administration, but only over logistical details and tactics. In the campaign room, Olivia’s attempts to broach the fundamental issue of participation in the war were stonewalled.
No, it can’t just be a show, surely?
She continued her inquiry.

Violence had escalated in most towns and cities across the length and breadth of the U.S. Citizens were afraid to step out after dark. There was not a soul within the 330 million people in the United States who was not worried. Talk radio shows started suggesting the imposition of martial law.

Amidst this climate of fear and discontent, some citizens duly proceeded to the polls to cast their votes across the Super Tuesday states.

The Americans First Employment Bill received overwhelming support from both chambers of Congress. Multinational corporations urged President Young to veto the bill, but to no avail; a week later, President Young signed it into law.

Warren Medley, head of news programming and current affairs at the powerful NBN, called for Justin Flannery.

“Mornin’, Warren,” Justin said. He was in a chirpy mood as he walked into Warren’s office.

“Morning. Coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Justin’s back was turned as he poured himself a coffee in Warren’s office overlooking east Manhattan. Warren was solemn.

“You gotta play by the rules, Justin.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Justin turned, leaving the coffee and his chirpy mood behind him.

“I did…just don’t get what you mean.”

“The White House called. The press secretary herself…”

“Well, Miss Coleman is getting worked up about nothing in particular—”

“It wasn’t just the tomatoes, that was bad enough—”

“We didn’t throw them.”

“You might as well have, the way we covered it.”

“There’s more?”

“You bet. Cancel the Stein interview. You did him last summer.”

“But that was about his Alpha Corporation. He wasn’t running for president then.”

“I said cancel it.”

“It’s too late, Warren, the ads have already aired.”

“So?”

“So? It’ll look like the White House forced us pull it. In fact, I’m sure Stein will go on Twitter or something and say so himself.”

“True. Maybe we can play this another way.”

Justin Flannery looked at Warren Medley quizzically.

“Ask him about his past, his social life, girlfriends, hobbies—”

“No way. No fuckin’ way. No, that’s a cop-out, Warren, and you know it.”

“Our female audience will like the personal touch.”

“It won’t work. Look, I know he has irritated the White House. But he is generating a lot of interest.”

“Let’s hope to God that Kirby doesn’t win,” Warren said.

“He won’t, look at the economy.”

“What…you think this Stein guy is actually going to win?”

“No, Warren…I think Spain is a shoo-in; Stein’s the circus act we can’t afford to miss. He’s great for ratings.”

“Spain doesn’t like him either. His reaction could be worse, in fact.”

“But he hasn’t told us about it, has he?”

“No,” Warren conceded.

“So?”

“All right. But be careful. Call his statements inflammatory rhetoric…”

“Don’t you think that would be—”

“You know the routine.”

“All right, Warren. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Like I said, be careful. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When Justin Flannery left Warren Medley’s office, being careful was the furthest from his mind. He very much planned on asking Frank Stein exactly the most inflammatory questions America wanted him to answer.

“The United States should exercise more self-control and restraint,” Stein said in the first ten minutes of the show going live.

Warren Medley sat back, watching the live feed in his office, almost chewing his cigar off. He hated going live. He was so sure that Emma Coleman’s offer of an exclusive on President Young’s health update was gone that he had kissed it good-bye without even daring to remind her of her promise.

“We have followed an irrational foreign policy for seven decades following WW II,” Stein said, “a ridiculous policy of defining as good just about anything or anybody that was against communism: gang leaders, tribal chiefs, cannibals, paranoid dictators, unelected monarchs.” Stein noticed that Flannery was smiling.

“So the world looks at us with suspicion when we say we will spill blood…American blood if necessary, to help countries achieve democracy. As if democracy in itself was a value. If it was, why did the CIA overthrow a democratically elected secular government in Iran in 1953 only to instill the Shah, a dictator? No answers were given to the public.

“Now the new definition of good, in the post–Cold War phase, is that democracy needs to be fostered no matter what principles elected officials cherish. Terrorism is the new scare campaign. Just about any overseas action is defended on the basis that it is needed to constrain terrorism. Any temperance is deemed to be giving in to the forces of terrorism.”

Justin Flannery thought he had what he wanted.

“So would you actually withdraw U.S. forces from overseas immediately?”

“In most cases, yes. Iraq, certainly yes, including the many who are still there training their forces. Japan, yes. Qatar, yes. Bahrain, yes. Afghanistan, yes. Pakistan zones, most urgently yes. We better get out of Syria before it becomes yet another Iraq.”

“So you would rather let Iraq dismember itself into a civil war?”

“Absolutely. Would you rather more American soldiers died for no cause?”

Flannery could hardly believe his luck.

“And we let the Taliban secure a stronghold in Pakistan, a base from which to launch strikes against the U.S.?”

“Since 2016, we have been occupying the lawless zones of northeast Pakistan purportedly to counter the threat that the Taliban could get hold of Pakistan’s nuclear weapons. The tribal Taliban can never overcome Pakistan’s army, the sixth largest in the world.”

“What if there is a military coup in Pakistan? It has happened before.”

“Their military already has control of the sites.”

“What if they use the weapons?”

“With a maximum range of eight hundred miles, the U.S. is not in danger.”

“Surely, you are not seriously advocating abandonment?”

“I am. Five to ten of our soldiers are being killed or maimed every month in northeast Pakistan. The Pakistan People’s Party and the Party of Allah are calling it a U.S. imperialist invasion, turning their citizens against us.”

Flannery could have rubbed his hands together in glee. Before he could throw another question, though, Frank Stein continued in his didactic fashion.

“We have armed forces stationed in one hundred and fifty countries over the world. The government is already bankrupt. But the wars worsen the bankruptcy.”

“I am sorry, did you just say bankruptcy?”

“Yes.”

“If you become president, will you actually announce this to the world?”

“We are live now, aren’t we?”

The color was draining from Flannery’s face.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr. Flannery, the world already knows this.”

“But I…I thought you were right wing, not antiwar, Mr. Stein,” Flannery stuttered.

“The labels are misleading. Right wing and left wing, liberal and conservative, all have been misused relentlessly.”

“Surely this is irresponsible.”

“What is?”

“Your rhetoric, Mr. Stein…it could incite people to commit—”

“I haven’t used any.”

“But a strong army is needed to protect us from terrorism.”

“Now you are off the track.”

“Mr. Stein, isolationism is a dangerous policy.”

“Isolationism is another of those stupid buzzwords—”

“Don’t we owe a duty to protect—”

“No, we have no such duty. But we have a right to interfere if there is a significant and real pro-freedom movement…then we should absolutely supply arms and expertise to support—”

“At this rate, you will be saying we should support a rebel like Imran Sharif rather than let the Iranian people decide for themselves—”

“Now Sharif’s is a real movement that has a fighting chance of winning. We should support him. Absolutely. Militarily.”

“You contradict yourself, Mr. Stein.”

Ignoring Flannery, Frank Stein continued, “Whereas in Afghanistan, all we have is warring tribes, tribal chiefs, and gang leaders going at each other, each of whom simply represent a milder version of the Taliban.”

“You are calling Third World people tribals? You will be denounced as a white supremacist, a racist—”

“I said the Afghan chieftains are tribal in their philosophical outlook. There is no point in continuing to take sides so that a democratic election between Tweedledum and Tweedledee can take place.”

The buzzer in Mr. Flannery’s pocket went off. He knew he had done more than enough to create scandal. Any more and Washington could come down with a heavy hand; Stein was generating too much press.

“I am sorry, Mr. Stein, we are running over time. But thank you for coming here to share your extremist views with the American public. After all, freedom of speech is protected by the first—”

Frank Stein was so fed up that he walked out with the cameras still rolling.