“We’ve got a problem. Things are about to spiral out of control, and it’s your fault.”
Charles Ahab motioned towards James Shemaiah and offered him a seat. Shemaiah noticed the beads of sweat on Ahab’s lip, the false bravado dripping from his pores. Ahab was weak, prone to fits of rage, ruled by his emotions. The type who rose to power through a combination of luck, connections, lack of ethics, and an aggressive dedication to his sick ideology. What Ahab considered his strength just made him easier to control. A few dollars here, promises of support sincere or not, and he would fall in line. Shemaiah found Ahab’s kind distasteful but necessary. Marionettes dancing on the strings Shemaiah controlled with the click of a money transfer. Ultimate power resided in his hands, out of the light and in the shadows where the capricious and violent tendencies of the people didn’t know to look.
He didn’t mind the nation’s downward slide toward chaos. Chaos meant opportunity, power, money but only because he stayed out of the fray, out of the public eye.
The politicians he funded loved the chaos almost as much as he did. It provided the instability, the insecurity to keep the people fighting each other, to draw their attention away from the latest failed policies. In those moments when the people sought respite, a flick of the politicians’ hands would make a new scapegoat appear and the fighting start again. The greedy rich. Immigrants stealing jobs. Whites and Blacks and Hispanics and Asians either the model of virtue or the epitome of evil depending on the day’s narrative. Oppressors versus oppressed. Everyone a victim or a victimizer.
The rare, honest person, who dared to glimpse behind the curtain, would invariably find the politicians orchestrating the chaos for their own benefit but fail to see the strings which controlled them jumping lithely in Shemaiah’s fingers. Just the way he liked it. Let the politicians take the brunt of the anger and occasionally the end of the hangman’s rope. He would simply insert another cog into his wheel, another power-hungry person to do his bidding until the services were no longer needed.
“What is it this time, Charles?” Shemaiah asked, hovering over the desk for a moment before settling into a different seat than the one Ahab offered.
Ahab twisted his neck around to speak to him. “A new book is about to be released.”
“A book, Charles? You called me in over a book? Is it another one of those conversion therapy manuals? We have algorithms to look for them. Not saying some don’t slip through the cracks, but I’m a busy man. You could’ve simply called me. Better yet, you could’ve called Dean. He would’ve taken care of it for you.”
Ahab bristled at the rebuke. “It’s not a conversion therapy book. This one is set to do a lot more damage.”
“Are you going to make me guess what it is? If you are, it’s going to take a while. I own three publishing companies now. Bought a new one last month. Do you know how many books each of them publishes a month? Thousands. So, if you would be so kind as to narrow the choice down a bit, I might be able to get back to something of importance.”
“Jeremiah.”
Shemaiah shrugged and raised his hands to indicate he still had no idea.
“Some guy named Baruch wrote a biography of Jeremiah. Pinman-Ferris is set to release it on Tuesday. A friend of mine in the marketing department gave me a call.”
“What’s that to me?” Shemaiah said. “I don’t own Pinman’s Publishing. Yet. Give me a couple years.”
“I know you don’t own them, but couldn’t you persuade them not to publish it?”
“I’m not on their favored person’s list. Not sure how I could be of help. Or what concern this is to me,” he added.
“My friend sent me an advanced copy,” Ahab said. He reached into his top drawer and laid the manuscript on the desk. “I bookmarked a couple sections for you.”
“I really don’t have time for this.”
Ahab dug deep into his well of courage. “Make time,” he said and pushed the book across the desk.
Shemaiah took hold of the offer and opened to a bookmark. After the first paragraph, he rubbed the inside corner of his eye and stared at Jehoiakim’s chief of staff. “How does he know?”
Ahab shrugged his lips. “As near as I can tell, we have a leak.”
“Any idea who?”
Ahab shook his head.
“The other sections are like this?” Shemaiah asked.
“Worse.”
Shemaiah shifted his gaze towards the window looking out over the guardhouse. In the distance, the distorted V of a flock of geese headed south in search of relief. He clenched his jaw.
“Does Jehoiakim know?”
“Not yet,” Ahab said.
“Were you planning on telling him?”
“I wasn’t sure how he’d take it. I figured you might have a way to prevent this from becoming an issue.”
“I can give Pinman a call,” Shemaiah said, “but knowing the request came from me would probably make him more likely to publish the book. Your best bet is to go to Jehoiakim.”
“Come with me to tell him.”
The request sounded pitiable. Shemaiah’s distaste for the worm across the desk almost overruled his rational side.
“Alright. When?”
“Now is good. He doesn’t have a meeting scheduled until after lunch.”
A hand reached to a white collar and straightened it. The blue, two-toned, striped tie fell into place down the front of the shirt. Shemaiah clicked his tongue. “Let’s go.”
As they walked, Ahab couldn’t help but notice how the inseam of Shemaiah’s gray, lamb-wool slacks perfectly hugged his inner thigh, how Shemaiah walked with his shoulders back and head high. Ahab imitated the posture without realizing. A minute later with one more quick check of the billionaire’s backside and Ahab knocked on President Jehoiakim’s office door.
“It’s Charles, sir,” he called out, entering before he received a response. “I’m here with ….” He stopped midsentence. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t realize you had a meeting.” His deference turned to disgust when he recognized the other person in the office with the president.
“No worries. Come in. We were just talking. You know Ben Ahikam, don’t you Charles?”
“Of course.” His feigned smile fooled only himself.
“And Jimmy. I don’t know if you’ve met Ben.”
“I’ve seen him before. In a meeting some years back.” He extended his hand to Ben, who took it with his own.
“Yes. Right,” Jehoiakim said. “Anyway, I promoted Mr. Ahikam to assistant chief of staff. He’ll work directly with you, Charles.”
“What happened to Darnell?” Ahab asked. “I got along well with him.”
“Perhaps, a little too well. He had to go.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the public might be OK with that type of lifestyle but not when it comes to a person in power. They still expect a certain amount of decorum in their public servants.”
“Screw ’em,” Ahab said.
“Sorry, Charles, but that’s the way it has to be.”
“But why this guy? I have a long list of qualified people who could be assistant chief. Dan, for instance.”
“Dan?”
“Dan Issa.”
Jehoiakim scratched the end of his extended nose. “I’ve made my choice. Ben’s the one you’ll work with. My suggestion: play nice.”
“As you wish, sir,” Ahab said. He had no intention of doing so.
“What brings you in?” Jehoiakim said. “I wasn’t aware we were meeting now.”
“We weren’t scheduled to,” Ahab answered.
Shemaiah rocked onto his heels then back to the front. His gaze remained fixed on the president’s long, sharp nose.
“Something wrong?” Jehoiakim asked. Shemaiah’s lip twitched, giving him the answer.
“Nothing you can’t fix,” Ahab said.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jehoiakim flipped to the next page. He read to the bottom, went back to the top, and read it again. His neck stiffened each time. Ahab and Shemaiah held their breath and waited for him to speak.
“This is what was so important that you two had to barge in here?” Jehoiakim said. “The ramblings of a psycho?”
Ahab shifted his feet. “You saw what he wrote.”
“Of course. I’m not blind, am I? ‘I follow other gods. The gods of money and power at whose feet I grovel.’ The same nonsense he spewed a couple years ago. I thought that night in the stocks had cured him of his stupidity. Apparently, he was hiding himself from me, waiting in the shadows to attack me behind my back. He’s a coward.”
“He … um … explicitly mentioned … well, Shemaiah as the god at whose feet you grovel.”
Jehoiakim scoffed. “That makes two people who falsely believe that.” He looked directly at Shemaiah. “Isn’t that right, James?”
Shemaiah’s face never changed its expression. Jehoiakim continued.
“If I wanted, a simple command and all your wealth would end up in my hands. And your body would never be found.” The scowl lingered for a few seconds before transforming into a smile. “Not that I would ever consider it, my friend.”
The last two words sounded more ominous than all the rest. A page ripped from the book. “Here, Jimmy. You can keep this. Anything else you’d like me to read?”
“Turn to the next bookmark,” Ahab said.
Jehoiakim took his time, laughing more than once. Again, pages ripped out. “I think these belong to you,” he said. “Jeremiah sure isn’t a fan of queers like you. I guess you’re not as discrete as you think you are. ‘We hunger and thirst for our neighbors’ wives and husbands and children. Therefore, the Lord will make you hunger and thirst by withholding his rain.’ He’s nuttier than those atmospheric heating fruitcakes. At least, cow farts exist.” A roar spilled out of his throat.
A flush of adrenaline hit Ahab’s body at the slight. “The term is homosexual,” he said. “Queer is offensive.”
“Queer. Homosexual. Who cares? I might have to support your perversion. It doesn’t mean I want anything to do with it.”
Ben licked his dry lips and opened his mouth. “Sir, if you don’t mind me interrupting, but I wouldn’t dismiss Jeremiah so lightly.”
“You’re not one of his disciples too, are you?” Jehoiakim’s face reddened as he spoke.
“Jeremiah’s? No. The Lord’s, yes.” Ben’s boldness surprised him, especially with the other three burning holes through him with their eyes and their thoughts.
“And you believe what Jeremiah says?” came Jehoiakim’s challenge. “Man lying with man. Women trading their natural function for those that are unnatural. That sounds like a reason for the rise in the earth’s temperature. Maybe it makes Mother Earth all hot and bothered because she can’t get in on the action.”
“Everything he’s said has come to pass. It wouldn’t hurt to listen.”
“Listen to a madman? Not going to happen.”
“If you would ….”
Jehoiakim’s lips twitched. “I’m beginning to regret your promotion already. I’d hate to think I made the wrong choice.”
Ben fell silent but not out of fear. His words didn’t have weight now. A time would come when Jehoiakim’s ears would open. He hoped so, anyway.
“Are we done here?” Jehoiakim asked his other advisors.
Ahab shook his head. “There are a couple more you need to read.”
“Are they as scintillating as the first two passages?”
“Please, sir. Just read them.”
Jehoiakim opened to the next section and scanned the page. His still reddened face turned the color of the burgundy he drank to excess each night. Fury ripped the book nearly in two.
“Where’d he get this information?”
No one answered Jehoiakim. His voice rose to a shout.
“Where’d he get this information!” The book slammed on the desk.
“Um … we don’t know,” Ahab answered.
“There are only a handful of people who know.” Jehoiakim stared at Ahab and Shemaiah. “And you two are on the short list.”
His hands trembled. So did Ahab’s and even Shemaiah’s.
“Maybe … maybe, the Russians leaked it,” Ahab stuttered.
“Why would they do that?” Jehoiakim asked, fighting to control his anger. “Why would they leak our negotiations with them to help them fight the Chinese? How could that possibly benefit them?”
Jehoiakim leaned back in his chair with crossed arms and one hand stroking his lower lip. The composed exterior belied the storm raging inside.
“Maybe your new hire wasn’t such a good one,” Ahab insinuated.
“He started less than an hour ago,” Jehoiakim replied, “and had no access to classified information prior. I’d say the odds are way more likely that you or someone like you spilled this. Perhaps, to undermine my authority.” The accusation didn’t go unnoticed.
“Sir, I would never ….” Ahab stopped as he saw Jehoiakim’s gaze fall on Shemaiah.
“Believe me,” Shemaiah said, “I have way more to lose than any of you if the information becomes public knowledge.”
Ahab’s face brightened. “Uriah!”
“Who’s Uriah?” Jehoiakim asked.
“He was a friend or pupil or something of Immerson. He’s also a friend of Jeremiah’s. I bet Immerson told Uriah who told Jeremiah.”
“Immerson would never double cross me,” Jehoiakim said.
“What if it was some sort of deathbed confession?” Ahab said. “He was on all sorts of pain medication at the time. It could have slipped out.”
“I doubt it,” Jehoiakim said. “Uriah left the country a year ago. Last I heard, he was preaching outside of Houston. Thought he could escape from me by running there.” He laughed to himself. “Still thinks that.”
“Immerson could’ve called him,” Ahab offered. “Or Jeremiah.”
“Jeremiah wouldn’t have taken Immerson’s call,” Jehoiakim said. “And a deathbed confession by phone to a student or friend or whatever, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Nothing else does,” Ahab said.
Disgust shook Jehoiakim’s head. He picked up one of the scattered pages and read it out loud. “Do not lie with the Chinese. In them, you will not find comfort but the sword and famine and plague and death. Turn to the Lord, and he will heal the land. Submit to the Russians, and the Lord will preserve the nation.” He paused as he grinded his teeth. “Ahab, send a memo to Colonel Zeffa. Have him issue a warrant for Jeremiah and Uriah.” He looked at the front cover. “And add this Baruch guy to it. Tell him to do whatever it takes. Also, tell Pinman-Ferris to nix the book.”
He took a lighter and held it to the bottom of the manuscript. The pages curled as they unsuccessfully tried to escape the flames. Jehoiakim tossed the remains into an empty trash can.
“If Pinman or Ferris balk even once,” he said to Ahab, “I want to see smoke rising from their printing presses by tomorrow morning.”
The pages in the trash can slowly disappeared.