Failed Succession

By Robert James Allison

A political race against time, life, and death in the nation's capital.

"Failed Succession" is the long-awaited sequel to "The First Suitor".

Jack Allen, now married to the President's daughter and still the lead trouble-shooter for the National Security Administration, is back and he has a problem. Jack has happened across some data on the White House Chief of Staff's computer that indicates someone may have stolen the last U.S. Presidential election. When Jack delays in turning over the information, because he isn't sure how high the plot goes or who in government is involved, fate turns the finger of suspicion toward him. He soon finds himself on the run while trying to clear his name and bring the real conspirators to justice, but his family winds up in the cross hairs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert James Allison
• Release date: Feb 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301630998

Robert James Allison

I was born and raised in Decatur, Illinois, but moved to the Moweaqua area around 1991. I like small towns and rural settings, as does my wife of thirty-five years, Barbara. We have two grown children, John and Anna to whom I dedicated my first book, The First Suitor. I started writing about fifteen years ago as a diversion from my regular job as an attorney. At that time I had been practicing law in Central Illinois for about fifteen years and was looking for another avenue to exercise my writing and organizational skills. Now after thirty years of practicing law I would like to write full time, but yet I find myself full time in the law and part time in writing. I enjoy telling stories and some would say that all lawyers are born fiction writers, because fiction is all they write in the first place. I have to admit that there is some truth to that.I have had five books published with Wings ePress, Inc., and more manuscripts in the works. I recently started the process of removing all of my books from Wings and putting them on Amazon in Kindle format and other digital sites. In the future I plan to publish all of my books in ebook format on various sites such as Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Some new books will be going up soon, too.Recently I have retired from the private practice of law and have relocated to Louisville, Kentucky.I try to draw on my experiences in the practice of law and my life experiences in general to give realism to my stories and characters. In the 1970s I served in the U.S. Army as a Military Policeman and in the late '80s, I was a Captain in the U.S. Army Judge Advocate General Corps, Army National Guard. I have been to Germany, France, Belgium, Holland, and many of the United States. I like to work the settings of the places I've been and things I've done into my stories. I write romance into almost every book, but it isn't always the main theme and it is never explicit or vulgar.I am foremost and always an entertainer and that is why I write fiction, but I try to make it real and believable as well as entertaining.

Book preview

Failed Succession

A novel of political intrigue

by

Robert James Allison

Copyright © 2012 by Robert James Allison

Published by First Suitor Enterprises at Smashwords

February 2013

Cover photo:

Capitol Hill

(U.S. Government works)

All rights reserved

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

First Suitor Enterprises

www.RobertJamesAllison.com

This e-Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-Book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

To those computer security analysts who serve the United States of America.

Chapter One

Ian Mandrell shut down his laptop computer and closed the lid. Tiredly he rubbed his eyes and temples. It had been a long night and a longer morning, but the job was finally done. He took comfort in the amount of money he was going to be in a position to spend very soon. Five thousand of the five hundred thousand had already been advanced to him and the balance would be placed in his off-shore bank account just as soon as the results of his work were confirmed. That was probably already accomplished. The news media was very effective these days and the people who hired him were surely monitoring the media to verify that Ian had done his job.

Rising out of the straight wooden-backed chair positioned close to an old beat up metal desk, he stretched his legs and arched his back to work out the kinks. He had been sitting at that old desk for too many hours now and although he was a young man, it was more sitting than he could tolerate. He knew there would be no more of this for a while, if ever. The money he was getting for this job should keep him from in front of a desk for quite a while.

Reaching around behind the laptop he unplugged the cable from the Designated Service Line modem box and then unplugged the phone line from the DSL box, tossing the line onto the floor. From his laptop case he took out a pair of wire cutters and circled around behind the desk. Following the wire from where it lay on the floor to the wall, he pulled the telephone jack off the wall and cut the wire leading to it. With his index finger he pushed the wire back into the wall and gathered up what he had cut off.

Everything fit into his laptop computer case, along with his laptop. Later, at some distant location he would dispose of everything, including the laptop. It hurt him to think of destroying a perfectly good laptop with a Pentium IV processing chip, but it was necessary. He could not afford to have anyone find it and examine its hard drive.

With his laptop case in hand he took one last look around the little office, bare except for the old desk and wooden chair. Earlier he had disposed of all his drink containers and food wrappings. No sign of his presence could be left and certainly no evidence of his identity could be found after he was gone. He had even brought a flashlight for the sole purpose of scanning the desk for signs of any hairs he might have dislodged and left on the desk. DNA evidence was a real problem in this day and age and it paid to take precautions. He sat his computer case down near the door and returned once more to the desk. He took a plastic bag from his coat pocket, unzipped it, removed the bleach soaked rag and wiped the desk down thoroughly. As an afterthought he also wiped down the chair and the floor immediately surrounding and under the desk.

At the door to the old run-down, one-room office he again took another look around and when he was satisfied, he opened the door using the bleach-soaked rag and wiped the knob down thoroughly. Picking up his computer case in his left hand he flipped off the light switch, still using the rag and wiped the area around the switch down thoroughly. Out in the hall, after closing the door, but not locking it, he wiped down the outside doorknob with the rag. There was a single light bulb in the hall and in the dim light he placed the rag back into its bag and then into his pocket.

He wasn’t concerned about anyone seeing him. There was no one here to see him. This entire office complex had been abandoned years ago and only recently had the power been turned back on. He knew the power would be turned back off tomorrow and the power company would have had nothing to do with it either time, just as the phone company had no knowledge of the phone line he had just cut.

Quickly he descended two flights of stairs and at the main entrance he again took out his rag and wiped down both sides of the door. This time though he was more careful to make sure no one was observing him. This area was pretty run-down and mostly abandoned, but one never knew for sure if some bum might be hanging about.

The night was pretty cold so with his rag back in his pocket he put on his gloves and zipped his coat all the way up. He had to walk two blocks to get to his car and then he would be warm and safe once again. He really should have parked even farther away, but it had been extremely cold for this early in the season and he just didn’t feel like freezing for that long. He was anxious to get to his car, the tension of the last day was wearing on him and he wanted to be finished, so he quickened his pace.

About ten minutes later, near 2:30 in the morning, Ian saw his car and fumbled for his keys as he approached. Unlocking the car he tossed his laptop into the back seat and dropped heavily behind the wheel. He was shivering slightly, more from the release of tension than the cold.

Glancing around again carefully to make sure no one had seen him; he stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. There was no pain, only a sense of enormous pressure as the bomb lodged under the front of the gas tank exploded. Ian never realized he was dying; he just died.

~*~

Jack quickly opened his eyes and looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. He couldn’t believe that it said six o’clock, or more accurately, 5:59 and he quickly reached over and punched off the alarm before it went off and woke Jane. He realized he must have really been tired last night since he didn’t even hear Jane get up to feed little Frankie. The baby’s full name was Franklin Charles Allen, named after his father and Jane’s father, to keep peace in the family, but Jack liked calling him little Frankie. He especially liked doing it around Jane’s father, who visibly cringed every time Jack said it, but Frank Marshall wisely kept his peace. It wasn’t that Jack didn’t like Frank Marshall; it was more a chance to exercise a certain amount of independence in the presence of the President of the United States. He had long ago concluded with mirth that not just everyone had those kinds of opportunities in life.

Morning, Hon, Jane’s voice floated across the bed to where Jack was sitting trying to get his mind and heart started for another work day.

Turning now he gave Jane a kiss and said, Sorry I didn’t hear you up last night. I must have really been tired. Guess I stayed up too late watching the election returns. Good thing I didn’t hear you, I guess. I was so tired I wouldn’t have been able to get up and sit with you.

I don’t know why you insist on doing that, Jack. You should stay in bed and rest and let me take care of Franklin. I can nap during the day and you can’t.

Well, I don’t always answer the bell, he said with a smile and continued, but kids are a joint project. At least I always thought so. No reason for you to do all the work.

That comment garnered a smile from Jane. Jack knew she thought the same way he did and he knew she appreciated the company in the middle of the night. He could have gotten up instead of Jane and fed little Frankie, but Jane wouldn’t hear of that, besides it almost took two people to give little Frankie his two o’clock bottle. The little critter was always dropping back off to sleep before he finished and if he didn’t finish they both knew he would be awake at 4:00 wanting to finish. Usually it took both of them to keep him awake long enough to finish the whole bottle.

Well, no matter anyway. He didn’t wake up last night, Jane said with a huge smile.

Jack was caught flat footed and responded, You’re kidding. You mean he finally slept through the night? Really?

Really. After all, it has been five and a half weeks. Beth said it would be anywhere from four and a half to six weeks. I guess he’s about average, she finished.

I hate to admit that my sister was right about something, he ended with a laugh.

Sure is handy having a sister-in-law who is a pediatrician.

The price is right, too, Jack chuckled.

You remember that the next time she needs some help fixing her computer, Jane responded lightly.

Are you kidding? I’ve already gotten her out of so many computer scrapes while she was in undergraduate and medical school that she owes me for care for six kids, he laughed again.

Six kids. Who were you planning on having the other four with? Jane said with a tone of feigned indignation.

Oh I don’t know. I’ll pick up some other President’s daughter. Nothing to it, he ended and ducked the pillow that Jane tossed at his head and with a laugh he tackled her. They wrestled, both laughing almost uncontrollably until a cry emitted from the baby monitor drifted across the room.

Uh oh. Franklin calls, Jane said and Jack rolled back to let her up.

Just so you know we aren’t finished yet, he tossed after her and continued, this is just the end of the first quarter. The ball’s on the same yard line after the whistle.

He was rewarded with a distant, I’ll hold you to that. As Jane disappeared into the hallway, headed for little Frankie’s room.

Jack headed for the bathroom while Jane was down the hall. A few minutes later while he was still shaving, he looked out the bathroom door and saw Jane in her house robe carrying little Frankie and his bottle. Wiping off his face quickly, he crossed to the bed and ogled his little baby boy for a good five minutes.

You’re going to be late if you keep ogling Frankie and me, Jane said.

Who says I’m ogling you? he shot back and dodged a swipe with Jane’s right foot.

Jane continued to feed the baby while Jack dressed. Jack watched them both from the dresser mirror. He had been ogling her, too and she knew it. They hadn’t been married quite three years and the new had definitely not worn off their relationship. Jack hoped it never would and vowed to do his best to see that it didn’t. Of course he was sure a lot of men vowed that very thing and didn’t stay the course, but he prayed he could.

His wife was as fine looking to him today as the first day he had met her. She still had that long shimmering blond hair and peaches and cream complexion. Even after recently having had a baby, her figure looked pretty good to him. She had immediately begun exercising and was rapidly toning her figure back to its pre-pregnancy condition. Still, Jack was a realist, computer experts had to be. He knew nothing ever stayed the same. No matter how hard you tried, things changed, people aged and time passed. He had heard it said that love was eternal and it was his goal to prove just that, changes or not.

Speaking of Beth, he now said to the mirrored reflection of Jane and little Frankie.

Were we? Jane responded, wiggling the bottle to keep Frankie from nodding off to sleep and clucking at him almost simultaneously.

Earlier. Anyway. That free pediatric care might not last too much longer. Isn’t she about due herself?

Two or three months I think, Jane responded as she dabbed some stray formula from Frankie’s chin.

I’ll bet she takes some time off after the baby.

Some maybe, but I don’t see her taking off much. She loves her job and besides I think Georgetown Medical Center has excellent daycare, including for infants. She can work and visit her baby almost any time she wants.

No kidding.

Jack you’ve already been working too long for the National Security Administration. You spend too much time in that NSA cubicle of yours. You need to get out more, Jane chuckled.

I got out enough to find you didn’t I?

Only because I had a computer problem no one else could fix. If it hadn’t been for that you’d have never left the building.

Not true, I used to go out for pizza occasionally, he said with a laugh as he finished fixing his tie. Jack hated ties. He generally only wore them to church, but the past few days he had been assigned to do some security checks on the computer system at the White House and everyone there wore ties. At least during the day, unless you were the President and didn’t want to wear a tie. Jack supposed he could have gotten away with not wearing a tie, being the President’s son-in-law, but he was never one to ask for special privileges. Besides, he didn’t want his appearance to be used by anyone to cast aspersions on Jane’s family and it seemed these days that the media looked for any opportunity to do that. So he wore a tie, and hated it.

While he mused in the mirror and fussed with his tie, Jane slipped downstairs to start breakfast. He was probably going to be late today, if traffic was anything like it usually was, but then again, he wasn’t punching a time clock. He got paid to put in a forty-hour week though and he liked to do that. Usually that was no problem, because almost every day he got a call from someone in the NSA and once a week he had to make an emergency call somewhere in DC for some reason or another. Not to mention the times they sent him off to parts unknown to work twenty-four seven on some matter of national security. Still, he liked to be on time, so he wasn’t long in joining Jane in the kitchen.

When he entered the kitchen, the coffee was already finished and the bacon was frying. Jane was scanning the paper while little Frankie snoozed in a bassinet in the corner of the room.

Well, what do the papers say about President-elect Swearingen?

He didn’t win.

Huh? How so? I mean, when we went to bed he had two hundred seventy-two electoral votes sewn up.

I guess they changed their minds, because he only has two hundred fifty-nine now.

Jack walked around the table and glanced over Jane’s shoulder at the headline, saying, That’s a loss of thirteen electoral votes. That’s a big difference when two hundred seventy is the magic number.  Those exit polls must have been way off.

You said last night those exit polls weren’t very scientific, Jane pointed out.

True. They aren’t, but I figured they’d do a better job than that. Besides, with this new electronic voting most of the results are almost instantaneous. Depending upon how long it takes individual state bureaucrats to transmit the results to the mainframe that is. Someone or several some ones in the media are going to lose their happy homes over this, I’m betting.

Oh, who are you kidding? The only happy home you care about someone losing is my father losing his, she laughed and continued, You can’t wait for him not to be President anymore. You’ve been counting the days in his second term since the day we were married.

Not true, he said with a smile and bent down to give her a kiss, continuing, been counting them since the day I met you.

They both laughed as Jane got up to check on the bacon and Jack took her seat to look over the headlines himself.

From the stove, Jane said, I can understand your haste before dad accepted you, but after that, what’s the big deal? Now he knows you aren’t out for political gain and you two get along very well.

There’s no such thing as getting along with a President of the United States, Jane. At least not when you are a flunky at the NSA. I may be married to his daughter, but I’m still not in his class. Besides, it’s not him so much. It’s his job and the media. I get tired of living under the microscope and don’t tell me you don’t. I know better. The secret service isn’t a problem, never really was, it’s the spotlight I hate. Plus, I’ve got a brother-in-law I can’t even acknowledge.

Only when he’s with dad. You know the secret service agents are supposed to be flies on the wall unless the President says differently.

That’s what I mean. Ever since Pete got moved to the White House detail he’s been with your dad. I feel guilty if I even look at him. I’m afraid he might accidentally acknowledge my presence and get in trouble. Wouldn’t Beth be fit to be tied if I was the cause of her husband getting canned?

Laughing now, Jane responded. Oh, it’s not that bad, Jack, but I know what you mean. It is kind of awkward for everyone. Truth be known, I’ve been looking forward to dad being out of office just as much as you, maybe more. I’ve put up with it for years and years and it only seems to get worse as time goes by.

Well, I thought Swearingen was going to replace him, but I guess not. I guess we better get used to President Taylor. I suppose your dad will be happy, at least Taylor is a democrat and your dad’s party will stay in the White House.

Jane did not respond, she just continued turning the bacon.

Jack took a gulp of coffee and after a moment of thought said, You know as a practical matter it won’t help.

What won’t help? Jane queried, still fussing with the bacon.

Your dad being out of office. He’ll still be a former president and will still have some secret service protection. He will still be the subject of some media attention and if that weren’t enough you are going to be a famous author. We don’t have a chance at a normal life, he ended with mirth.

Jane turned with a smile on her face and said, Oh yeah, famous author my foot. I wrote one book and it sold about ten thousand copies at the last count. I have no other ideas for any books and you think I’m going to be famous.

Sure, Hon. You keep at it. You have your foot in the door now. You write well. I think you should switch from non-fiction to fiction. You know, write some mysteries or thrillers surrounding DC. Lots of stuff goes on here to write about and with your inside perspective I think they would sell.

I don’t know, Jane responded thoughtfully.

Well I do. You can do it. I know you can. You put your mind to it and you can do it. Now me, nothing ever happens to me that is worth writing about, but you are different.

The only reason no one can write about what happens to you, Jack, is because ninety percent of it is top secret, Jane said with a laugh.

Yeah, I suppose you got a point there, he replied honestly. He knew Jane was close to the mark. There were lots of things he knew and had done that would make a good book if he were allowed to talk about them, but he wasn’t, not even to Jane. Her father knew about them or could find out, but not many others. He didn’t care about all that. He wasn’t in this business to make money off of books. He just loved messing with computers. Not long ago computers were his only love, but now he loved two things more, Jane and little Frankie.

Well, better get cracking, he said as he finished wolfing down his bacon and eggs. Don’t want my father-in-law to catch me coming in late.

Is he even in town? Jane asked.

You don’t know?

Are you kidding? Half the time mother doesn’t know. He’s as bad as you, Jane said, ending with a laugh.

Well, can’t help you. No one tells me anything, either. If it isn’t computer related I’m in the dark, too.

Standing now he went over and gazed down at his sleeping baby boy and then came back to the table to give Jane a bear hug and kiss. Bye, Babe. Love you.

Love you, too. See you tonight, she said with a questioning tone.

Far as I know, he replied honestly. Jack never knew when his cell phone was going to ring and send him to some far-flung place for days on end.

I’ll be done at the White House this week for sure and then I hope to crawl back into my cubicle and oblivion.

With a wave of his hand he passed out of the kitchen and grabbed his suit coat out of the coat closet.

Morning, George, he said to George Pickerill, the new head of Jane’s security detail. Not his, Jane’s and now little Frankie’s. Jack had no need for secret service protection. No one was interested in him, but he liked to know that while he was gone someone was looking out for his wife and son.

Morning, Jack. Off to the White House again? George asked.

Yeah, last week I hope. I like hiding in my little cubby hole at the NSA a lot better.

See you, George said and as Jack was going out the door he saw George heading for the little office set up in a corner room just off the living room. He recalled a few years ago how intimidated he had been by that little office and the man occupying it. That man was Pete Frazer, his brother-in-law now and a finer man Jack had never met.

Outside, Jack tossed his ever-present laptop computer case into the back seat of his Ford Tempo and climbed inside the car, shivering from the cold. It was unusually cold this early November and it reminded him that he had to get the garage cleaned out so that he could get his car inside and out of the cold. Jane’s was in there, but his side was full of junk. In the summer he parked outside and over the summer his side of the garage seemed to accumulate junk. Every year he had to clean it out to get his car back inside. Most of it wound up in the trash, which is where it should have gone in the first place, but he never liked to throw anything away too quickly, he might need it. What he needed was a barn to store all of his computer equipment. He just couldn’t stand throwing away computer equipment, even when he knew it was no good.

Backing out into the street now, he waved at a pair of agents sitting in a black SUV not even trying to be discrete. They wanted everyone to know they were there and that they were watching. They were two of the three-man outside team and there wasn’t much they missed.

~*~

Detective Captain Terry Brandt sipped his coffee in the early morning cold and leaned heavily against his car, watching the scene. There was little he could do now, but he wasn’t quite prepared to leave. Silently he watched as another DC detective approached him.

What do we know Shawn? Terry said as Shawn Welch reached him.

Not much. Those Homeland Security guys are about as closed mouth as the CIA. Did find out though that they found traces of Semtex and figured enough was used to level a building. Makes sense since that blast broke windows three blocks away. That Semtex is mean stuff. Don’t take much to blow up a car and whoever did this job wanted to make sure nothing was left. The crater is fifteen feet deep and the entire width of the street. Must have been quite a sight.

Uh huh, Terry grunted thoughtfully and continued, any idea who was in the car or if anyone was?

Nawh, no way of telling until the lab goes over everything. Anyone in that car was vaporized, I’m thinking. Wish we could get a closer look.

Can’t be helped, Shawn. You know the drill. These days anything that even remotely looks like terrorism is in the hands of Homeland Security. I had no choice but to call them as soon as the officers reported what they had. No way was this an accident. If there was Semtex involved then it is likely terrorism. Not our territory.

Thought Homeland was supposed to share information with the locals? Shawn asked.

Yeah, right, Terry said sarcastically.

Both were silent for a few moments as they watched the federal agents going about the grizzly task of trying to determine what had caused a car to disintegrate with or without someone inside.

Shawn, Terry said.

Yeah.

Hang in here until they are done. As soon as they are, you put our people on what’s left.

Why?

Why not?

Thoughtfully, Shawn responded, Okay, Terry, but I don’t see us finding anything and anything the feds find we aren’t likely to be told about.

Maybe, but forensics can find almost anything in nothing these days. I’m heading back to the office. Got some paperwork to catch up on. Let me know if you turn anything. Put a patrolman or two on the scene to secure the scene until the feds leave if you want, but as soon as the feds are gone I want you back here with our lab boys. I want anything they left, or missed.

Right, Terry heard Shawn respond as he climbed in his car and turned the engine over.

Chapter Two

Jack rolled up to the gatehouse at the White House, stopped and reached in his pocket for his identification when the gate guard stepped out of his shack. Before he got his identification out the guard was handing him a visitor’s pass with one hand and a sack with the other.

Morning, Mr. Allen. No need to show me your ID. I signed you in and this is from Delilah, he finished as Jack took the pass, hung it around his neck and grabbed the sack.

What’s this?

Delilah heard you were coming and so she told me to give you that. From the smell I’d say it is a fresh cinnamon roll. One of her specialties as you know.

I do, but how did she hear I was on my way?

George radioed you were on your way. No secrets in the secret service, Mr. Allen. You should know that better than anyone, he ended with a smile.

I reckon so, Jack replied, his mouth watering at the thought of eating one of Delilah’s rolls. He was about to drive off when the guard said, Oh, just a second. I got a cup of coffee in here for you, too. Can’t eat one of Delilah’s rolls without coffee. I figured you’d want to finish it off before you went inside.

Jack took the proffered coffee and said, Thanks, Bill.

Balancing the coffee in one hand, he carefully steered the car into the parking lot with the other. He stopped, placed the coffee on the dash and glanced at his watch. He’d be late, but a cup of coffee with a Delilah roll was worth it. Delilah was the chief White House cook and her cinnamon rolls were famous all over the federal government. Jack had gotten addicted to them years ago while at the White House working on one of those late night emergencies he was famous for. That was when he and Jane were still just dating and the President hadn’t yet warmed up to him, but Delilah took to him right off.

As he sat in the lot he stared at the White House in amazement. No matter how many times he came here, with or without Jane, he was still awed by the place. Power just seemed to ooze from the walls. Power was never Jack’s thing. He just wanted to be able to mess with computers, any computer. He knew though that many of the people inside that imposing fortress and many who just passed through its doors thought of nothing except power. It wasn’t his bag, but he was for letting them do whatever they wanted so long as they left him alone to do his job. As he finished off the last bite of roll and tossed the wax paper on the floor he glanced at his watch and realized he had better get into gear and do his job.

With his cup of coffee still in one hand and his laptop case in the other hand he made his way up the steps to the entrance, recalling how scared he had been about three years ago when he had first come to this place with Jane for Sunday dinner with her family, the President and First Lady. He had been very close to bolting that day and it wouldn’t have taken much for him to have run off down the drive. Dinner at the White House was a little much for a small town boy from Indiana. Jack was forever grateful that Jane had kept a firm grip on him to prevent him from doing just that.

As he reached the front door it opened and he stepped inside saying, Thanks, Arnold.

No problem, Mr. Allen. Good to see you again, Arnold Perryman, the doorman replied as if he hadn’t seen Jack for weeks, instead of just yesterday morning. Jack really liked the people who worked at the White House, not the