Divided Nation

By Robert F Moore

America’s inexorable depression prompts the federal government to mandate a sterilization drug to stem rising welfare costs. The CEO of Xytogen is murdered. Assigned to investigate the murder, Special Agent Tyrone Williams discovers Xytogen’s lead drug, XU84 would have prevented his birth years earlier. Thomas Barnes appointment as CEO of Xytogen thrusts him into the middle of the conflict.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert F Moore
• Release date: Jan 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458067210

Robert F Moore

Robert F Moore is a tenured investment professional who gleans elements of his thriller novels from analysis of markets, corporations, economies and business leaders. His thriller novels involve people and events which pose extraordinary socioeconomic impact to the United States and world. Characters routinely face unprecedented situations which forces them to utilize all internal and external resources."Minerva" Robert's third thriller novel, introduces the character Dax Rushmore and is scheduled for release in late 2015.

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Divided Nation

Robert F. Moore

Copyright 2012 by Robert F. Moore

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter 1

The scene had become all too familiar lately. People railing against the injustices of XU84, sacrificing themselves for a cause in which they strongly believed. It didn’t matter where, from Seattle to Miami, Boston to San Diego, over and over again citizens took a stand against the government mandate.

Special Agent Tyrone Williams ran down the stairs to the underground platform of Pennsylvania Station in midtown Manhattan. Noxious fumes entered his nasal cavity. He lifted the lower portion of the blazer he wore up to his nose to filter the smell. It didn’t work.

A cluster of spectators, ten deep in spots, stood on the main platform. Tyrone shoved his way through. At six foot, four inches, he towered over most people. Derogatory comments flowed. He ignored them, even the racial insults.

The area had been cordoned off, still the throng of people refused to leave. Draw to the macabre scene outweighed their personal safety. Cops pulled people away, yet it barely dented the enormous crowd. They flowed in from a variety of entrances, too numerous to block until significant backup arrived.

She stood in the middle of the open floor, no one within twenty feet of her. Liquid dripped off her saturated purple flowered dress, only her hair and face dry. The thin, dirty blonde had her hair bunched atop her head. She held two fireplace lighters, one in each hand. A large pool of gasoline spread across the floor. A red plastic gas can sat in front of her, another in the open luggage next to her, two more tossed aside, empty.

It’s being worked on. Even as we speak, the police negotiator pleaded. An injunction has been filed.

When? she asked.

The Second Circuit Court of Appeals has deemed the law unconstitutional. Now the Supreme Court will review. It’s happening right now.

The woman’s brow furrowed. How do I know you’re telling the truth?

The negotiator looked back. He waved for two officers to come forward. Ask them, either one.

One uniformed officer repeated what the negotiator said, virtually verbatim. The woman knelt, twisted the cap off the plastic container and dumped it on its side. Gas flowed onto the floor and expanded the puddle. She poured the remainder onto her chest and dropped the container.

Tyrone hustled to the left. Grabbed hold of a metal beam, stood on the cement support a few feet above the floor and watched the liquid spread. Cops shoved the crowd back. Panicked gawkers stumbled over each other to avoid the gas.

Where’s the news crew? she asked.

The negotiator, arms fully extended, palms down, spoke calmly, They’re on their way. They’ll be here any minute. It’s tough to get down here with all these people. He pointed to the crowd behind him.

The woman quickly looked behind her. Don’t let them take away our freedom. She pleaded to the crowd. XU84 is wrong. They’re not God. Only God can prevent life, not our government. We’re Americans. We have to stand and fight for what we believe. All of us, together.

A door behind her, in the distance, slowly opened. Tyrone saw two cops crouched. Firemen stood behind them. One held an extinguisher.

I agree with you, the negotiator said. "We have to get this changed. It’s not fair to women. Work with us. The louder our voices, the more they’ll listen. We need you to help us. Together we’ll get it done.

She stared at him, shoulders drooped. I’m not sure if…

Tyrone saw people in the crowd pointing. So did the woman. Cops rushed her. She dropped to her knees, made a quick sign of the cross. The lighters clicked.

A flash fireball consumed the area. Tyrone lifted his hands to cover his face. Intense heat surrounded him, nose and throat burned. He lost balance and grabbed the metal beam for support. Screams of anguish filled the air.

Gasoline still burned. Firemen and police rushed extinguishers to the scene and sprayed white powder chemical onto the inferno. Charred remains of the woman crumpled in the middle, motionless.

The crowd plunged into panic. The smell of burnt hair and scorched flesh consumed the area. Tyrone leapt over diminishing flames. He shook his head and walked up the steps to the street outside.

Chapter 2

Thomas Barnes ran his fingers through his coarse brown hair, massaging his scalp, wondering how Xytogen and America had come to the point of subjecting citizens to XU84. He gathered the papers on the desk and slid them into his leather folder then zipped it closed. He walked to the small closet, tossed the folder into the floor safe and locked it. Tom slipped on his jacket and straightened his tie before the full length mirror. A wave of anxiety washed over him as he thought about the upcoming meeting. He sat and wondered why Xytogen had been chosen to help stem the rising welfare crisis and slow America’s inexorable decline.

Linda had her back to him and didn’t hear the door open. She was busy typing sales and field reports into a spreadsheet.

Good morning, Linda.

She spun around, a shocked expression on her face.

I need to find a way to make that door squeak, She said. Sooner of later I’m going to throw something at you.

Why don’t you turn your desk away from the window so you can see people when they come in?

And miss the scenery. This view is the only thing that keeps me here. She gestured toward the window overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge and East River.

How do the sales numbers look? Tom asked.

Well, they’re not complete yet. She turned and guided the cursor across the screen. With fourteen of eighteen regions compiled, it looks like sales are down eight percent over the first quarter, and off twenty-two percent on a year over year basis. Once again we’re getting hammered in the Southeast. The Bible belt folks have shunned our products.

He leaned over the desk to study the figures. We anticipated major repercussions in that part of the country. What are we hearing from the sales reps?

Difficult to say since Kozlowski and Benson quit last week.

That’s a half dozen sales reps. we’ve lost this year. He shook his head and searched the folder for the reports.

Linda waved her hands then pointed to the office door. Don’t you have somewhere to be?

Yes, I suppose I need to get down there.

Go now. I don’t need him calling here and freaking out.

Tom ran his fingers through his hair again.

You look beautiful, Mr. Barnes. Perhaps you should tone it down a bit or Goble will develop an infatuation with you. She finished with a sly smile.

He walked the dark corridor, and gathered his thoughts for the meeting. He had fretted over this all weekend. As much as he tried to distance himself from work, it was beginning to take a toll.

He stood outside the reception area and took three deep breaths before entering. Barry’s secretary was faced him, but never pulled her eyes away from the magazine. The small office reeked of sweet smelling perfume.

Tom stood for a moment, then asked, Is Mr. Goble in?

He’s waiting for you. She never looked up.

He opened the door and saw Barry looking out the window, speaking on the phone. Barry turned, gestured for him to sit and continued the conversation.

The immense office was sparsely decorated, relying upon simple amenities rather than luxurious furnishing and ornate artwork. A three-seat sofa and matching love seat sat in the middle. Each side of the sofa and loveseat had non-descript chairs cattycorner to one another. The moderately sized conference table would amply seat eight. It needed a lacquer job to recapture the gleam. Six of the chairs were pulled away and formed a concave pattern facing Barry’s’ desk.

The only fine piece of furniture in the room was the cherry wood desk Barry brought to Xytogen with him. Matching crystal lamps sat on both front corners. Besides the lamps, a file holder, folders, and a disconnected brass antique phone were the other items on the desk.

As the conversation continued, Barry became noticeably agitated. He paced the office, head lolled and teeth clenched. He surpassed obesity fifty pounds ago and his medium height was ill equipped to handle the inordinate weight. With a large balding head, typical horseshoe pattern, it became redder as his anger built.

As you said earlier, the job has been running over schedule. When will it get back on track? Barry asked.

He watched Barry meander to the bookshelf, flip open the laptop and type until a website popped up. For a few moments he was quiet, until his voice exploded. You pathetic people can’t do anything right. Now you’re telling me it’ll be completed next week. Here’s a news flash for you pal, the job will be completed by Thursday or you won’t receive one penny more, you rodent.

Tom stared out the window at the Brooklyn Bridge, trying to seem oblivious to the conversation. After a brief pause, a new barrage began.

You incompetent idiots can kiss my ass for the remainder of the bill if it’s not complete by Thursday. In fact, I’ll sue your sorry asses for breach of contract. I have in writing a guarantee the work would be completed by May Fourteenth. What day is today? Correct, and that means you’re ten days late. Finish by Thursday or I’ll file a breach of contract suit against your sorry asses.

Without giving the person a chance to respond, Barry folded the phone together and tossed it on the desk. He walked to the hutch and picked up the glass. Two of the shelves housed a meager selection of books scattered carelessly among the bottom shelves, but more importantly, an amply stocked bar behind the cabinet door. He opened it and pulled out a bottle of Johnny Walker Black. After popping a few ice cubes into the glass, he poured until the scotch glass was half full, took a drink and replenished the contents before returning the bottle to the cabinet.

He looked at Tom and held up the glass. You don’t know what you’re missing. Barry always offered only to be turned down repeatedly.

Have there been any changes to the group we’re meeting with? Tom asked.

Not that I’m aware of. We have the Archbishop of New York and the President of the Liberty Federation, along with their cohorts.

Barry twirled the contents of his glass after he sat. He took a large gulp from the glass, leaving only the ice cubes. To tell you the truth—this is an absolute waste of time. If it wasn’t for those pricks in Washington I’d never let these schmucks in here.

Why do they want us to meet with them?

Barry waved his hand to dismiss the question. They thought some coddling was in order because of sensitivity issues with XU84. The blowhards want us to allay some of their fears rather than have them competing with the press during the news conference next week.

What details should we disclose? Tom asked.

Barry maneuvered out of the seat with difficulty, walked back to the hutch and refilled. He stopped momentarily, bottle in hand and looked at Tom. We’re not going to give them too many details. I didn’t work all these years, attain this position only to be pushed around by some liberal patsies solely interested in their agenda.

He filled the glass halfway, downed the contents and slid it behind the monitor. Look, we’ll brush over efficacy reports and go into the safety trials. Other than that, they’ll be entitled to a copy of the research report after the news conference, like everyone else.

Have you considered how this will affect our other products? Tom asked. We’re taking a beating in all product lines because of the negative press. Boycotts have impacted sales by over thirty percent overall, and in some sections of the country we’re seeing sales sliced in half. We’ve lost eight sales reps….

All right, I get the point. Don’t you have confidence in me? Do you think I’m going to sit here and watch this company slowly bleed to death? Is that what you think?

Tom gathered his thoughts, but was cut off before he had the chance to speak. Save it, Barry said. I was saying. Think of it this way, when there’s a hemorrhaging extremity you have a few different options. You can put a band- aid on it, apply a tourniquet, or do as I prefer, cut it off and move on.

Cut it off? He let the comment sink in, fully aware of what it meant.

Come on, Tom. You’re sharper than that, or at least I hope you are. It’s time we dispose of the past and focus on the future.

We’re selling all product lines?

Of course.

Who are we selling them to and why wasn’t I informed?

Barry rubbed his chin and pondered the question. I haven’t finalized anything yet, but I have a few companies in mind. What the hell is the difference? We sell pills and crèmes that could be easily substituted by any of our rivals, not to mention those generic parasites biting at our heels, waving patent expiration notices in our faces.

For months Tom realized Xytogen would have to divest all product lines if XU84 was brought to market. The public backlash had become too intense and the organized boycotts more successful than envisioned.

Instead of participating in a saturated and mundane business, we’re going to the forefront of revitalizing America and bringing her back to the economic prominence we once enjoyed. Barry got up from his chair and walked to the front of the desk. Arms folded he sat on the edge, he looked Tom in the eyes. Do you realize the enormity of what we’ve been called upon to do?

Tom didn’t bother to answer; he knew it would be futile.

This country is in crises. We’ve been chosen to help rectify one of them. Granted there’re many facets to getting this goal achieved, but we’re an extremely vital component to this objective and need to stay focused on completing a national directive for the benefit of all Americans. Barry continued to focus on Tom, not permitting his attention to waver. Tom, I need to know if you’re loyal to Xytogen, and me.

He hesitated before answering, I’ll be loyal to both. I didn’t anticipate selling our product lines so quickly. I’ve worked in all divisions of Xytogen over the past twenty years. When you spend that much time developing strategies, coordinate distribution channels and lead teams of employees, you become fond of the challenges and accomplishments. It’s closing a chapter of my life.

Barry waved off the remark. That’s history, its all about XU84 now. We have goals and don’t need the past to distract us. We’ll do away with all products and focus on what’s important.

Though they had only worked together a few months, Tom heard enough callous remarks to become immune. Has anyone solicited bids for those lines?

No one knows they’re up for sale yet. Besides the board of directors, you’re the only other person who knows.

Tom stood and walked to the window. While he gazed out over the East River, his eyes fixed on a cargo ship leaving its dock with tugboat assistance. Mentally, he ran through a quick list of suitor’s for each product. There’s going to be high demand for Zynocin. Major pharmaceuticals have expressed interest in the past. Want me to contact a few, possibly spark a bidding war?

Don’t bother. I’ll contact analysts who cover our stock later in the week. There’s been speculation we’d liquidate our product lines once the FDA approves XU84. Now we’ll put those rumors to rest, file to sell restricted stock and get the money we deserve. Barry rubbed his hands together as he looked at Tom. This is going to be a sweet payday for us Tommy boy.

The tugboat pushed the cargo ship farther into the East River. After a period of silence, the phone rang. Barry answered after the third ring.

Yes? Are they the only ones? Call back when the rest of them arrive. Barry hung up. The Liberty Federation crew is here. We’ll wait for the Archbishop before I let them in.

Barry walked behind the desk, opened the top drawer, took out a canister of mints, popped two into his mouth and put the rest back. He waddled to the hutch, grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. After a sizable gulp, he walked back behind his desk and plopped into the chair. The phone rang again and Barry picked it up. Fine, send them in.

Barry hurried to the front of the desk and leaned against it. Tom chose the chair adjacent to Barry’s desk. It provided an ideal vantage point between the guests and Barry. Once the door opened, Tom focused on the five people entering the room. The Archbishop, John McCarthy, he recognized. Many newscasts had recently interviewed him. McCarthy was an imposing man, well over six feet tall. Light green eyes pierced from his chiseled face. He had a full head of thick, silver hair. A Pectoral Cross hung from his neck and lay against the red cassock. Tom estimated his age, north of sixty-five. Yet the man had rugged good looks and exuded power as he strode across the office.

Erika Stampf, President of the Liberty Federation, was the only other person he recognized. She’d been featured on talk shows and forcefully discussed policies pertaining to women’s rights. Her blonde hair tightly cropped, still her beauty glimmered, even through her stern demeanor. Erika was nearly six feet tall. The turquoise business suit revealed none of her athletic body. As they approached, Tom didn’t see any make-up. She was more attractive than cameras portrayed.

The five people separated into two groups. One man stood on each side of Erika and yielded to the Archbishop.

Good morning gentlemen. Thank you for taking time to meet with us. Archbishop McCarthy held out his hand and shook Barry’s, then Tom’s. He gestured to the man on his right. This is Bishop, Patrick Cassidy. He’ll sit in on our discussion, so long as there are no reservations.

None here, Barry said.

Erika moved forward once McCarthy and Cassidy sat. She firmly shook hands. A tight smile on her face as Tom briefly locked eyes.

This is Bill Hampton, Vice President of Liberty Federation. She gestured to her left, and then turned to her right, and this is David Braunstein, Director of Public Relations for the Liberty Federation. I’m Erika Stampf.

Barry completed the introductions for himself and Tom. Once concluded, Erika sat to the left of the Archbishop and the two men stood behind her.

Tom looked back and forth at the two men. Each resembled linebackers, solid, barrel-chested, undoubtedly from countless hours in the gym. Both men wore white collared shirts and sports jackets. Hampton had a marine style buzz cut. The other guy was in the last stage of baldness.

Tom saw Barry’s perplexed expression. Are they going to sit? Barry asked.

They prefer to stand, Ericka replied.

Mr. Goble, the Archbishop said. We understand the Food and Drug Administration will rule on XU84 by the end of the week. Please tell us how this drug will affect women.

Barry leaned forward, clasped his hands and looked at the Archbishop. At this time I’m not permitted to discuss results of XU84 tests. Through phase III, there have been minimal adverse effects to test group members. FDA initially placed XU84 on fast track approval, so they’re comfortable with its safety. Once approved, all results of our comprehensive studies will be made public. Implementation of the program will begin immediately.

That’s unprecedented expediency, McCarthy said.

It shows the FDA’s level of confidence for the safety of XU84.

It’s due to money, Erika blurted. That’s the only reason government wants to use it right away. I want to know what XU84 comprised of, and what are these minimal adverse effects?

Again, that’s not something I can elaborate on at this time. Barry replied. When the FDA approves XU84 for commercial use we’ll divulge all aspects of the drug, along with side effects. An extensive research report will be available and representatives from Xytogen will answer all your questions.

Erika shook her head repeatedly, jaw clenched. She looked at the men standing behind her. Neither showed any expression.

I hope you can respect our position Mr. Goble, Archbishop McCarthy said. Many of our constituents will have XU84 forced upon them in the name of national preservation. We’re concerned for their safety and wish to understand the side effects so we can properly prepare.

Archbishop, your concerns are aligned with ours. No one wants to harm these women. We’ve taken extraordinary precautions to preserve everyone’s health and well-being so we don’t appear callous toward any group, regardless of ethnicity or social class.

Tom looked at the two men standing behind Erika. Neither had budged since