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Overview
Ken Shufeldt thrills again with Rage.
When the GOP realizes they'll never regain the White House without the minority vote, they select Victor Garcia, a Hispanic Marine War Hero, as the Vice Presidential candidate for Peter Montblanc's run at the Presidency. Montblanc wins the election, but in a shocking turn of events just a few weeks after his election into office, he disappears. The GOP elites' worst fears are realized when Victor Garcia is named Acting President. From big money contributors, dirty politicians, a secretive billionaire, and duplicitous Iranian leaders, everyone seems hell-bent on plunging the world into chaos. Faced with a seemingly endless string of attacks and disasters, President Garcia soon learns that his greatest enemy might be closer than he thinks.
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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781466848832 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Tor Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 06/04/2024 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 417 |
| Sales rank: | 915,892 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Rage
By Ken Shufeldt
Tom Doherty Associates
Copyright © 2015 Ken ShufeldtAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-4883-2
CHAPTER 1
His flight was the last to land, before the whiteout conditions forced them to close Dulles International. He'd intended to rent a car, but the counters were all closed. When he walked outside to hail a cab, he found one lone taxi that hadn't given up for the night.
When the cab stopped at the gate to the estate, Charles Goodwin found himself marveling at how quickly life could throw you curves. He was in D.C. to meet with Stevan Baldridge, the longtime chairman of the RNC.
Just the month before, Stevan and the committee had asked if he would accept the vice presidential nomination at the upcoming national convention. He'd made his fortune as an investment banker, and was a staunch Republican, so he'd been more than honored to accept a new challenge. At the time, he'd thought he could be a great partner to Peter Montblanc, the party's heir apparent.
After the security guard verified his identity, he opened the gate and allowed them to proceed down the tree-lined lane to the main house. When the cab stopped under the covered entryway to the majestic mansion, William, the family butler, walked out to greet Charles. William led him inside and said, "I'll take your overcoat, and you can go on back. Stevan is waiting for you in the downstairs library."
* * *
"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," Charles Goodwin said.
"Never an issue, but what's the rush?" Stevan Baldridge asked. "The convention is still months away."
"True, but I wanted to discuss your plans for vice president."
"That's your job, my boy."
"Not if we want to regain the White House. The ticket needs someone who can pull in the minority vote, particularly the Hispanics."
"The latest polls I have show that we've made real progress with the minority voters."
"You mean the same assholes that kept telling us Romney was a shoo-in?"
Stevan shrugged.
"Have you gone through the data from the poll we commissioned?" Charles asked.
"No, I haven't. I assumed it would show the same splits we've been seeing from the national polls."
"You know what they say about assumptions. The data clearly points out what I view as a catastrophic shift in the demographics."
"You numbers guys give me a headache. I'm sure you're just overreacting?"
"Possibly, but if the numbers are anywhere close, it could be the beginning of the end for the GOP."
"That seems harsh, but even if you're right, where are we going to find someone that fits the bill?"
"That's why I'm here. I think we should vet out Victor Garcia."
"The mayor of Albuquerque? Have you lost your mind? He's not a politician; he's a war hero. I doubt he'd even be mayor if the Democratic candidate hadn't gotten caught with a hooker the week before the election."
"Probably true, but on paper he's got everything you'd want in a candidate. He graduated top of his class at the Naval Academy and went on to be a Rhodes Scholar. He won a Silver Star for his actions against the insurgents that attacked the ambassador's gathering in Iraq."
"Was that when he lost his legs?"
"No that was from an RPG, a few months later in Afghanistan."
"Quite impressive, but I'm not sure the party is ready for a Mexican VP."
"There it is."
"What do you mean by that?"
"If you have to ask, you're part of the problem."
"I've got the utmost respect for you, but you can't come into my home and talk to me like that. I thought we could count on you to do what's best for the party."
You clueless bastard, Charles thought to himself. "That's what I'm trying to do. Let's face facts for a moment. We're at risk of losing a lot of seats in both houses, and if we don't make some real changes, we may never regain the presidency."
Stevan mulled over Charles's words before he said, "I guess it's worth taking a look. Fix yourself a drink while I make a few calls."
* * *
An hour later, the circular driveway in front of the mansion was filled with limousines. As Charles watched eight of the most powerful Republicans in the country sit down in the library, he found himself hoping that he hadn't overreacted to the situation.
"This had better be as urgent as you claimed. It's my fiftieth wedding anniversary, and my wife was mad as hell when I left the party," said John Steinberger, a multibillionaire and the most powerful donor in the party. "And what's this bullshit about needing a new VP candidate? We handpicked Charles."
"That's why we're here," Stevan told the group. "Charles wants to bow out, and he wants us to vet Victor Garcia as our new candidate."
"Garcia? I've never heard of him," John declared.
"Me neither," Peter Montblanc said. "Seriously, you can't expect me to take on a running mate that no one's ever heard of. Besides, we can't have a VP that couldn't handle being president."
"We've had many that I wouldn't have wanted to run the country," Stevan said.
"We're all here, so let's get to it. I need to get back," John Steinberger said.
"Have any of you read the results from the poll you paid for?" Charles Goodwin asked.
"Yes, but they've got to be wrong," John Steinberger said.
"It's projecting that the next election could have a seventy percent Hispanic participation, and could compromise almost thirty percent of the total voters."
"Is that even possible?" Ty Pendleton asked.
"Possibly," Charles said. "No one seemed to notice the changes they slipped into the last budget that changed the EB-5 visa program."
"Never heard of it," Peter Montblanc said.
"Most people haven't. It was originally intended to foster foreign investment and job creation. If someone invested between five hundred thousand and a million dollars, depending on where the company is located, they were granted a fast path to a permanent green card status."
"So what, they still can't vote," Stevan said.
"That's where the changes come in. The program was amended to remove the cap on the number of visas, and to allow them to skip the green card and immediately become naturalized citizens."
"How the hell could that happen?" Peter asked.
"Same old shit. It was one paragraph buried in thousands of pages of legislation, which nobody read. Coupled with the Democratic get-out-to-vote campaigns, and the new amnesty programs, it's fueled a tremendous influx of newly minted citizens."
"What kind of numbers are we looking at?" Stevan asked.
"I double-checked the state's voter registrations, and the newly registered voters are in excess of eleven million."
"That doesn't bode well for us. We don't rate very highly with the illegals," said Mell Blanc, the next largest GOP contributor.
"Dear God," Charles murmured under his breath.
"This shouldn't be a surprise to any of us," said William McKinney, the GOP chief strategist. "This is just a continuation of what led to our failure in the last election. No offense, Peter, but I warned you we couldn't win with Charles on the ticket."
"So you think this guy can pull enough of the Mexican vote to make a difference?" John Steinberger asked.
"I do," Charles said.
"You must feel pretty strongly to turn down the VP role," Mell said.
"Trust me, it breaks my heart to do so, but yes, I do."
"Big whoop," Peter Montblanc said. "What the hell are you doing wasting my time on this unknown loser?"
"Given the circumstances, I think we should at least check him out," Stevan said.
"Whatever, but don't waste any more of my time until you have it put together. I'll need to see a comprehensive plan before I'll consider making any shift in our strategy."
"Understood," Stevan said.
"Charles, do you know Victor's full name?"
"Of course. It's Victor Delgado Garcia, and his wife's name is Melinda Esmeralda Santiago Garcia."
"Damn, that's a mouthful," Peter said as he walked out. "Thanks, Charles, I'll get my guys going on the background checks."
CHAPTER 2Thirty days later, Stevan Baldridge reached out for an update. "What's taking so long?"
"Sorry, our normal investigators couldn't get anyone to talk with them. I finally had to pull in some guys from the CIA."
"I'm shocked that they wouldn't talk to a bunch of pushy white guys," Stevan said. "So what's the verdict?"
"Hell, I wish my background was as good. We couldn't find one person who had a bad word to say about him."
Stevan had his assistant call the mayor's office for an appointment and make the travel arrangements.
* * *
The flight from D.C. was uneventful, but as the G650 Gulfstream that John Steinberger had let him use was making its final approach into the Albuquerque airport, the turbulence from the winds off the nearby mountains was making it quite uncomfortable.
"Sorry about the rough ride, but we'll be on the ground shortly," the captain reported.
When they landed, they taxied over to the Cutter Aviation FBO. The copilot flipped the switch to open the door and lower the stairway as the limousine pulled up.
"I should be back by four P.M.," Stevan told the pilots.
Stevan hadn't wanted to call any attention to his visit, so he'd had his assistant book a meeting room in the Hotel Albuquerque, a small boutique hotel in the historic Old Town district. The concierge greeted Stevan as he walked in.
"Good morning, Mr. Baldridge. My name is Hector, and if there's anything you need while you're with us, just let me know. Your meeting room is set up as you requested, and if you'll follow me, I'll show you to it."
There was a roaring fire going in the fireplace, and they'd removed the normal boardroom table and replaced it with a pair of heavy leather chairs and a small table covered with drinks and snacks.
"Mr. Garcia just called. He should be here shortly," Hector said.
A couple of minutes later, Stevan was surprised when Victor came ambling into the room.
"I know," Victor said when he saw the bemused look on Stevan's face. "Everyone is surprised to see me up and about."
As they shook hands, Stevan said, "Damn, you've got some grip."
"Sorry. It's the rehab. I was putting in twelve hours a day on my upper body strength while I was getting ready for my new legs."
When they took their seats in front of the fireplace, a waiter approached and asked, "Would you like something to eat or drink?"
"I'd take some coffee," Victor said.
"Same here," Stevan said.
"So what's up?" Victor asked. "We don't often get the chairman of the RNC in our neck of the woods."
"You're right, I don't get out this way very often, but if you don't mind, I'm going to skip the platitudes and get right to the point," Stevan said.
"Please do," Victor said as he shifted to a more comfortable position.
"We'd like you to be our vice presidential candidate."
Stunned, it took a few seconds for Victor to respond. "Really? There have to be hundreds, no, thousands of men better qualified."
"I'm not going to bullshit you; you wouldn't have even made my short list. It was actually Charles Goodwin who convinced us to take a look at you."
"So I'm to be the token Mexican?"
"I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but your ethnicity was a factor."
"If it were just me I'd say yes in a heartbeat, but I've got a family to consider. My kids have bounced around from base to base for most of their lives, and they've just gotten settled into their new school."
"One of our biggest contributors gives away millions in scholarships every year, and I'll see that your kids get full-ride scholarships to St. John's College High School."
"At least it's Catholic," Victor said.
Try as he might, Stevan couldn't get a read on what Victor was thinking as he sat pondering his answer.
After Victor had hesitated for several seconds, he said, "I'll do it, with one codicil. I don't want to be just a figurehead."
"That's not my call, but I'll do what I can."
"I guess that's better than nothing. So what's next?"
"The first week in July I'll send a team down to begin working with you. They'll brief you on the platform we'll be presenting at the convention, and begin laying out your role in the campaign. Oh, one other thing. I need you to resign once you're nominated, because we're going to have you on a very busy schedule."
"Anything else?"
"Please don't mention this to anyone. We want it to be a surprise announcement at the convention."
"Not even my wife?"
"You can tell her if she can keep her mouth shut."
"Not an issue."
When they got up to leave, Stevan said, "This is a great opportunity for you. Don't blow it."
"Understood."
* * *
On the way back to the airport, Stevan called Peter Montblanc.
"So how'd it go?" Peter asked.
"He'll do it."
"What a surprise. What did you think of him?"
"He seems like a fine young man. He's very articulate, and even on prosthetic legs he carries himself like a marine."
"He can walk?"
"Quite well actually."
"That's good. I wasn't looking forward to herding a cripple around. Come by when you land, and we'll have a quick drink and discuss our next moves."
Later that night, he knew he had to make the call, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He poured himself a tumbler of Scotch from the bar and sat down at a small table by the massive picture window. As he gazed out at the city's lights, he found himself wondering how he'd allowed it to go this far.
One of his college fraternity brothers ran Eldon Luxury Suites in downtown Washington, D.C., and he could always get him one of the penthouse suites when he needed a quiet location for a call or a rendezvous with his mistress.
He hit autodial on his encrypted satellite phone, but when the man answered he didn't give him a chance to speak. "Did you and your partner receive the packets I sent?"
"Yes, but why the drama? These phones are secure."
"They are, but just go with it. Golem was quite adamant about it. Everyone gets a code name. You're Jonathan, and your cohort is Fredericka."
"And you're to be Klaus?"
"A little humor is always good," Klaus said.
You don't have a humorous bone in your body, Jonathan thought to himself. "Who the hell is Golem?"
"Need to know, my boy," Klaus said.
"This must be important for you to call at this time of day."
"I think so. They're replacing Charles Goodwin with a Mexican by the name of Victor Garcia."
"Why?"
"They decided they couldn't carry the election unless they can capture more of the minority vote."
"What do we know of this Garcia fellow?"
"Top of his class Naval Academy graduate, ex-marine colonel, and a Silver Star recipient. He was just elected mayor of Albuquerque, but as far as I can tell, that's all the political experience he has."
"That's not necessarily a bad thing. How do we get leverage on him?"
"I haven't been able to find anything yet, but I'll stay on it."
"Keep me informed, and I'll pass this along."
CHAPTER 3"How was your day?" Melinda Garcia asked.
"Pour me a stiff drink while I get cleaned up, and I'll tell you," Victor said.
"So, why the need for a drink?" Melinda asked when he sat down on the couch.
"I had a meeting with Stevan Baldridge this afternoon."
"The chairman of the RNC?"
"The same."
"There wasn't anything about him coming into town on the news last night."
"That's because he flew in to talk with me, and he left as soon as we finished."
"A special trip in to see you? That sounds exciting. What did he want? Did he invite you to speak at the convention? I'd love to go to New Orleans."
"Slow down, sweetie. The RNC wants me to be Peter Montblanc's vice president."
"Oh my God. You said yes, didn't you? I've got to tell my momma."
"You can't tell a soul, not even the kids. I promised that you'd be the only person I'd tell, and that you'd keep your mouth shut until the convention."
"Not fair."
"Melinda."
"OK, but it's going to be so hard. I can't believe it, vice president of the United States."
"We haven't won yet."
"Don't take this wrong, but why you?"
He knew why she was asking, so he addressed it head-on. "Because I'm a Mexican."
"Surely that's not all of it."
"Being a decorated, crippled veteran probably didn't hurt, but there's been such a shift in the election demographics that they've realized the Republican Party can't win without some sort of a minority representation."
Melinda could seem ditzy at times, but she'd graduated from the University of New Mexico, and had received her medical degree from the University of Maryland School of Medicine. "That's harsh, but who cares? How many people ever get this chance?" She gave him a big kiss.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Rage by Ken Shufeldt. Copyright © 2015 Ken Shufeldt. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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