The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

"Mr. Gillespie?"

He looked up from his phone to the nurse calling his name.

"You can go see your mother now."  Her voice was soft as she said this, offering him a smile that showed both her respect and an open invitation to something else.

He was careful to give her a friendly but distant smile.  It was easy, given that he was here to visit his mother who had always been distant and difficult, even before her health had started deteriorating.

A moment of disappointment flickered in the nurse's eyes before she turned to walk back to her station.  He smiled to himself.  He had never had trouble attracting women, except for his wife who had made him chase her for over a year before consenting to be his.  The familiar pang of her loss hit him briefly as he began walking to his mother's suite. 

They had helped her to sit up in bed, styled her hair and even put on her makeup at what, he was sure, had been her insistence.  He could not recall a time, except immediately following her heart surgery, that she had looked anything less than impeccable.  Rose Marie Kennedy Gillespie’s golden rule was that it did not matter how you felt, it only mattered how you looked and acted. 

She gave him a thin smile as he walked over to her bed.  The cancer had taken her ability to walk several months ago.  He took the thin, blue-veined hand she raised and kissed it softly.

"Mitchell.  So good of you to take time away from your campaigning to come visit your mother."

Ignoring the slight sarcasm in her voice, he nodded, "Anything for you, Mother."

She coughed slightly as he released her hand.  "Everything but what is best for the family you mean?"

He kept his sigh to himself.  The argument was inevitable.  "Mother, I
do
want what is best for the family. 
And
this country.  And I intend to do whatever it takes to make sure I serve as one of the most results producing presidents this country has ever seen, once I am elected."

"Once you're elected."  She pursed her thin lips.  "Your cousin, Charles, may decide to race against you, you know?"

"Mother, you know he has no chance against me."

She made another coughing sound.  "At least he supports the Cabal’s agenda."

He cringed at her use of the word ‘Cabal’.  Had she been fully herself she never would have said the word in public.  Or even out loud.  The ‘Cabal’ was the understood, unspoken, term for all of the families who supported an agenda he could not agree with.  He hated the Cabal and everything the group of ruling families stood for.  His jaw clenched and he stepped away from his mother's bed, walking toward the large bay window that looked out onto a well-groomed lawn and small lake. 

"And Charles would never walk away from his duty."

Charles
, the runt who had had the privilege of being raised at the heart of the family, while he had been shipped away to his grandfather, a man who had all but had his name erased from the family tree.  Not that it mattered.  His grandfather had taught him much, and despite the fact that Charles had tried, it was he –
Mitchell
Gillespie - on the campaign trail for the presidency.  Just like his family had been planning, at least until they realized he didn't share their beliefs. Not completely.

While he believed in a strong family, he also believed in a strong country.  And it was the wealthy who were responsible for keeping it strong and doing whatever it took to help America continue to grow in wealth and power.  His family, however, had no such beliefs in supporting this country.  Their desire, supported by many of the powerful families around the world, had a more centric and self-serving view.  Charles, of course, was on board with the family's views. 

The kiss ass.

Grudgingly, he had to admit his cousin had both charm and wit, not to mention the family's full support, should he run for the presidency.  But Charles did not stand a chance against him.  And the family knew it.  Say what they may, it was
not
Charles who had been groomed for this from the day he was born.  His grandfather had despised Charles and the rest of the family and had done everything he could to ensure Mitchell took the place he deserved.  And now it was happening.

He stared at a pair of white swan's gliding across the lake, not really seeing them. 

"I heard things are not going so well for you."

Without turning around he said, "What do you mean?"

"Your pet project hasn’t born any fruit.  Is that what your press conference is about tomorrow?" 

He did not need to turn around to know the sly look she gave him nor the condescending turn of her mouth.  Nor did it surprise him that she was cognizant of everything he was doing.  She was matriarch for a reason.  But he was not going to give her the satisfaction of playing her game.  Or telling her what he would soon be telling everyone.  She could wait with the others for the press conference announcement.

"Mitchell, do not turn your back on me young man."

Sighing audibly this time, he turned to face her. 

"That is better.  Now where were we?  Ah yes.  Tell me about this girl you are marrying.  Angela, Annie-"

He looked into her now clouded eyes.  Between the chemotherapy and her age, she had begun slipping into more frequent moments of dementia.

"Ann, Mother.  Ann Marie."

"Does she come from a good family?"

Despite the situation and the memories she had stirred, Mitchell smiled at his mother's question.  Ann Marie had been a waitress when he first met her, working two jobs to put herself through college.  "No, Mother.  She most certainly does not."

He sat back and listened as his mother launched into much the same tirade about the importance of good family and good breeding as she had the first time he had told her about Ann all those many years ago.  But his mind was focused elsewhere, remembering both a past he could not recover and a future he was sure was his.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Gillespie’s phone had been ringing off the hook since he had made the announcement that he would be giving a press conference early this morning.  Smiling at himself in the mirror, he took a minute to straighten his tie and make sure everything was in place.  After all the planning, schmoozing, back scratching, then the waiting, and the many other things he had done, things were finally coming together.

With this announcement, and the press it would receive, his ratings would climb faster in the primary races than they had with any of the other campaigning he had done.  And with the GOP primary debates beginning next month, the timing couldn’t have been better.   Once he was in front of everyone as a presidential hopeful, one who delivered on his promises, it was just a matter of time before he was selected to run as his party's elect.  And from there?  Well, he was ready to keep smiling and kissing babies for a
few
more months.

Stepping out of his inner office, he took a few minutes to personally thank his staff, shaking each of their hands and letting them know how much he appreciated their hard work and dedication.  He also mentioned that the next few months might be the busiest they had ever seen, but the results would be worth it.  He could see in their eyes that they believed him.

He stepped toward the door, stopping for a moment to collect himself.  Already he could hear the din caused by the many reporters on the other side.  They were talking excitedly among themselves, no doubt realizing that this was going to be a very news worthy speech.  He smiled wide, took a deep breath, recomposed his features to friendly, but with a serious demeanor, and opened the door.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming."

As he stepped up to the podium, the reporters become almost unnervingly calm.  He stacked his notes on the podium, stepping out from behind it to continue.  "Today I have come update you on a promise I made over a year ago.  A promise that has become the center of my focus and attention."

Curious glances and anticipative expressions met his opening lines. 

He continued, "That promise, that commitment, was that I would find a way to seek out, arrest and prosecute the major players behind the many hacker attacks that have resulted in years of damage to our government, businesses, and selves.  Several months ago, the process we were able to put in place to help us accomplish this monumental task, began tracking down and adding to a list the many miscreants caught in the act of hacking.  That list is still growing."

The reporters were beginning to lose interest.  They were still listening, but he could tell they had been hoping for something more sensational. 

He paused, looking many of them in the eye, until he once again had their full attention.  "Each of the individuals on that list were investigated further.  And, a few weeks ago, those investigations led the FBI to arrest four of them."

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"Ken, come in here quick!"

Ken slammed the phone down, racing into the living room.

"What's wrong?  Do you need to go to the doctor?"

Karen rolled her eyes.  "No.  I'm fine, but you have to listen to this."  She pointed at the TV where some suit was talking to a bunch of reporters. 

"Why?"

"He's talking about some hackers they arrested a few weeks ago.  I was just thinking with everything Ben and now that Borne kid, maybe he's talking about Tommy.

Ken turned his attention to the screen.

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"Why haven’t we heard about this until now?"

Gillespie acknowledged the reporter with a nod of his head, raising his hands in a gesture asking for patience.

"As we began to question these individuals, what we uncovered was more disturbing than we could have imagined.  From the individuals themselves, as well as data from their computers, we discovered that they were making plans to initiate a series of financial and industrial cyber-attacks geared towards bringing this country to its knees while stealing billions of dollars."

There was a murmur in the crowd.  "Yes,
billions,
to line their own pockets.  Money stolen from every day, hardworking Americans such as yourself.  And sadly, this group – the one's planning on trying their best to cripple this country – is comprised of not only foreign nationals but also American citizens."

Before they could erupt with the questions he could see they were barely containing, he continued.  "But there was information we also uncovered that made us aware that we had yet to arrest the ring leader of this group."

Aiming for a look of grim but subdued excitement, he schooled his expression before saying, "I am both happy and saddened to say that we were finally able to track down and arrest – just two nights ago – that individual!"

Bedlam erupted among the reporters.  Gillespie, however, paused a moment, allowing his expression to become grave.  When the reporters had quieted down, he continued more softly.  "I am disheartened, however, that it appears their ring leader is one of our own government employees, and a man set to protect us against the very thing he has been doing."

He could see them straining to hear his next words. 

"Rest assured that he will be dealt with to the full extent of the law and, if God sees fit to grant my wish, new and stricter laws will come from this.  I cannot help who we caught.  I cannot say I am proud we are bringing down some of our own.  But this is what I set out to do. What
we
set out to do, all those many months ago.  Whatever the cost, we must protect our country from enemies both foreign and domestic.  And trust me when I say, we will prosecute these criminals, these traitors, to the extreme.  We will send out a message to all hackers!  A message that says clearly.  We.  Have.  Had.  Enough!"

As he finished, the reporters could no longer contain their questions.

"Senator, who are these people?"

"How many are involved?"

"When can we get the list?"

"What are your plans for all the other people on the list?  Will they also be arrested?"

"Where is the group being held?"

"Were they Mirandized?"

Gillespie flinched slightly at the last question, wondering who had asked and why.  As the questions ricocheted off the hallway walls, he held up his hands, waiting for silence before continuing. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are currently still wrapping up our investigations and will need to complete this before we can release all of the details.  Our investigations may uncover more members.  So until I have the go ahead from those in the FBI who are leading this operation, I cannot reveal any more details.  However, I have Agent Barrett here to answer some of your questions."

Waving Barrett to the podium, he nodded his thanks and stepped off the platform to head toward the sanctuary of his office. 

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Karen turned to Ken as Barrett began speaking. 

"Do you think this is it? You think they have Tommy?"

Ken shrugged, still stuck on something Gillespie had said. 
Billions of dollars. 

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t picture Tommy doing something like that. 

"I can’t believe he would do that."  Karen echoed his thoughts out loud.

"I can’t either. But I'll know more once I talk to Alex."

"Have you been able to reach him?"

"No." 

Ken walked back to the kitchen to try and call his brother again.  For reasons he couldn't put a finger on, he suddenly had a feeling he still wasn't going to get a response. 

"…it appears their ring leader is one of our own government employees…"

But this time, his doubt was for a different reason.

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When Gillespie arrived in his office it was crowded with people he recognized from various lobbyist groups and lackeys of some senators and representatives who had not been on board with his plan originally.  His staff scrambled madly to try and answer the still ringing phones and deal with all of the requests this new group was making. 

The moment the small mob saw him they converged, each demanding to be heard.  Each asking what Gillespie needed because they wanted to ‘help’.  His smile widened.  He took a moment, picking out a few choice men and women who represented the people he really wanted on board and led them to his inner office.  The rest he left waiting.  They would no doubt come to him later with even better offers. 

Closing his door, Gillespie turned to his chosen few, barely able to contain his satisfaction at seeing such a majority ready to dance to a tune they had previously ignored.  It had begun.   

"Ladies and Gentlemen, would you like a drink?"  

As he turned to pour drinks, Gillespie could almost hear the tune "Hail to the Chief" already playing at his inauguration.