Pictures on the Wall

By Bob Haider

Political aspirations and ethics collide in the intriguing full-length novel.  In a tale as timely as today, when we question whether moral courage exists in our elected leaders, Pictures on the Wall will hold your interest to the very end.   A mysterious, enigmatic man contacts the lovely but undistinguished U.S. Senator, Catherine Wells.  He implores her to speak with an old Washington crony though he doesn't reveal…why?  Catherine later sees the same man seconds before a thundering explosion in which she is severely injured.  During her recuperation Catherine enters a period of prolonged depression while enduring horrific nightmares.  She suffers physically and emotionally as she struggles to recapture the essence of her spirit.  When Catherine finally returns to the Senate, she is metaphysically confronted by the same mysterious man in a surreal scene in her senate office.  As Pictures on the Wall rushes toward its climax, Catherine finds herself at the crossroads---where ambition and conscience intersect.  In a stunning act of courage and maternal instinct Catherine stands up against terrorism and inspires those of the Islamic faith across the world to stop it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bob Haider
• Release date: Nov 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223430490

Bob Haider

The Game Begins is Bob's third novel having also written Pictures on the Wall, his initial novel on political courage, and Whispers in the Night about retribution on a criminal empire.  Additionally, he is the author of numerous short stories including The Adventures of Ben & Bob series…the exploits of two modern day knights as they crisscross the globe confronting intrigue and danger in their fight against crime. Raised in Downers Grove, Illinois, Bob is a graduate of the University of Oklahoma and lives in Glenview, Illinois with his long-time companion, Mary Ellen.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Spring beckoned throngs of wide-eyed sightseers to the nation’s capitol in what had become an annual event—-an invasion of tourists taking pictures of the cherry trees as they blossomed in glorious color.  The cherry trees were a gift donated by the Japanese government in 1912 and quickly became the most photographed site in the District of Columbia.  They bloomed annually between mid-March and mid-April depending upon the severity of the winter, and this year it was on the latter end of that range as a lingering winter was accompanied by an above average snowfall.

As William walked leisurely toward the Jefferson Memorial, he noted a mama robin perched gracefully atop a branch.  She was taking a well-deserved break after awakening early to feed her ravenous youngsters.  As she chortled out her euphonic aria, another song was yet unwritten announcing the dawn of a new era in American politics.  While a long-standing culture of special interest money flowed into Washington like a river at flood stage, integrity and courage flowed out of the Capitol just as swiftly.

From the depth of his soul William held the conviction that public service, representing one’s fellow citizens in the hallowed chambers of government, was indeed a very honorable and magnanimous profession.

But veracity was out of vogue with America’s elected representatives exemplified by those who subscribed to the theory of political speak—-that courageous clarity leads to defeat, while cowardly ambiguity brings victory.

William paused to inhale the fresh spring air as the scent of rain greeted his nostrils and he heard nature’s rumblings in the distance.  He gazed upward and saw a line of foreboding clouds approaching at a brisk pace which he surmised would be upon him in a matter of minutes.

Without delay William resumed his deliberate but steady gait along the pathway circling the Tidal Basin—-the body of water aesthetically punctuating the regal memorial to Jefferson.  Some thought the basin was an endowment from nature fashioned by thousands of years of ecological change, but William knew better.  It was man-made in 1897 to catch the overflow of the Potomac River and avert flooding.

Every day without fail William walked through Washington to one of the historical monuments, or strolled to one of the many classical statues sprinkled throughout the district that adorned the streets and buildings alike.  Whatever the conditions—-whether the humid, sweltering heat of a Washington summer or the frigid bone chilling cold of its winters—-William was never deterred from his walking exercise.

Before entering the Memorial William again glanced skyward.  He observed a flock of sea gulls as they feathered eastward gliding effortlessly towards the Atlantic while the approaching storm was nearly overhead.  He knew he didn’t have much time because once the sky opened the throng of picture takers would run for cover beneath the protection offered by the Memorial.

William eyed the colonnades standing as ever-ready sentinels surrounding the bronze specter of Jefferson.

The ghost-like apparition of Jefferson appeared to be pondering a serious matter of State, as William pointed toward the silhouette, and bellowed, Jefferson lives!

William stepped between the colonnades and was immediately drawn to the words of the third president etched upon the inner walls, but before he began to read William heard the steady patter of raindrops pelt the pavement on the perimeter of the commemorative site.

Just as he had expected, the crowd of picture takers rushed toward the domed Memorial, when William heard the distinctive ring of his phone.

He reached for his phone and before he could even say hello, he heard a voice with which he was quite familiar.

I hope you have enjoyed your respite, the voice remarked.

I have the distinct feeling it’s about to end, William frowned.

You are correct, and you’re to begin immediately.

Who’s the subject this time?

The voice furnished William with the full name of his next assignment, and inquired, You are familiar with this person?

Yes.

You’ll need to come up with a plan, the voice stipulated.

Yes, as usual, I will work out the details.  I assume the manner and the place are entirely of my own choosing, as has been the case in the past, said William to confirm nothing had changed in that regard.

That is correct.

Do you have any specific instructions for me?

Yes, be successful in your assignment.

Of course, William nodded into the phone.

Good luck and keep me posted.

I always do, he said, as he disconnected.

Chapter 2

That evening William surveyed the expansive ballroom in a Chicago hotel and noted the extensive decorations for the highly anticipated victory party.  Hundreds of red, white, and blue balloons were suspended in netting overhead that would inevitably cascade down in colorful celebration when the candidate arrived.  With anxious campaign workers clustered around television monitors awaiting the primary results, William began to make his way toward the stage where the candidate would speak.

In the suite upstairs Governor Moreland and his advisors heard NBC project him the winner of the Illinois primary.  In a gesture reminiscent of a football referee signaling a touchdown, his campaign manager, James Bradberry raised his arms above his head and whooped in victorious enthusiasm.  Governor Moreland’s eyes glowed in victory and conveyed the success of a long journey that began long before he set foot upon the Iowa countryside and the snow-covered hills of New Hampshire.

Downstairs, in a simultaneous display of wild euphoria, the ballroom erupted in shouts of victory.  In their high state of elation, no one noticed William as he continued to make his way unseen toward the front of the ballroom.

In a scene that would be repeated at the upcoming convention in July, campaign supporters donned party hats and blew heartily into party horns—-the shrill sound reverberating throughout the ballroom.  Secret service men and women stood beside doorways and along the walls—-many of them grateful they had a listening device in one ear to at least partially block out the tumultuous clamor of the energized crowd of supporters.

According to NBC, Governor Moreland has now garnered enough delegates to assure him of a first ballot victory at his party’s nominating convention in July.

The noise level escalated into a thundering crescendo of fanfare, as a secret service woman put a hand over her uncovered ear as she tried to hear instructions through her earpiece.

Word came down from Governor Moreland’s suite the candidate would be downstairs any moment, and some started to chant the Governor’s name.  Others joined in, and the chant grew in intensity until the ballroom echoed his name...

Moreland!  Moreland!  Moreland!

A flood of activity ensued at a side entrance where the Mayor of Chicago entered the ballroom.  Uncomfortable in large crowds, he smiled and waved but didn’t attempt to speak over the loud din.

Moreland!  Moreland!  Moreland!

The lovely, vivacious Illinois Senator Catherine Wells then entered the ballroom and the crowd responded in uproarious enthusiasm.  The tall, slender brunette was absolutely stunning with her sparkling green eyes and brunette hair that touched her shoulders, as she waved to the crowd and joined the mayor on the platform.

When Governor Moreland arrived, the crowd surged toward the door for a closer glimpse.  Secret service personnel surrounded the Governor as he made his way through the ballroom, his wife Eleanor at his elbow.  As the Governor waded through the crowd, he reached between secret service agents to shake as many hands as possible.  The now sure-to-be nominee was all smiles—-the proud, elated look of victory etched upon his face—-while William stood at his desired position in the front of the ballroom where he’d have an unobstructed view of the governor delivering his victory speech.

We’re going all the way, Governor! yelled a woman.

You bet we are! the Governor shouted back to her, as his wife Eleanor beamed at being the wife of a presidential candidate.  Already her mind was swimming with the now real possibility of residing in the White House, as she entertained thoughts of becoming the nation’s First Lady.

William eyed the victorious candidate as the Governor stepped onto the stage, shook hands with the mayor, and said something that no one could discern above the loud, enthusiastic fervor in the ballroom.

Moreland!  Moreland!  Moreland!

The Governor shook hands with several others that had joined him on stage, as he made his way to Senator Wells who he surprised by giving her a hug and the crowd responded in a wild, passionate cheer.

William watched Senator Wells closely as she shouted her congratulations to the Governor, and William saw the attractive senator flash a wide ebullient smile, and he wondered if her motive in supporting the Governor’s presidential candidacy was masked by her politician’s euphoric grin.

The Governor turned and faced the animated crowd and approached the microphone while holding his wife’s hand.  With his free hand he waved to the enthusiastic devotees, glanced from side to side, and occasionally pointed to a specific individual in acknowledgment of their support.

The netting above the crowd was released and hundreds of balloons cascaded downward upon the sea of supporters in a flood of red, white, and blue colors.  The Governor’s smile widened while the crowd swiped haphazardly at the multi-colored balloons as they cheered, while the sound of popping balloons caused several secret service agents to twitch nervously as they stared with laser-like sharpness into the excited crowd.  Governor Moreland raised his right arm and pumped a triumphant fist high in the air.

Suddenly, Eleanor Moreland felt her husband’s hand slip from her grasp.  As she turned toward him, he clutched his chest, staggered backwards, and slumped to the floor.

In that instant, the joyous elation of a victorious evening dissolved into the depths of devastating despair.

Chapter 3

Senator Catherine Wells exited a taxi in the 1100 block of New York Avenue as the descending sun cast an orange glow over Washington, D.C.  Elongated shadows crept steadily across the Capitol to announce the approaching darkness, as Catherine headed to Orno’s restaurant.

Catherine Wells, the only child of Mr. and Mrs. Adam Cantara, was christened Catherine Leigh-Anne Cantara.  Born and raised in Chicago she attended DePaul University where she graduated at the age of twenty with a double major in American History and Political Science.  She proceeded to the University of Chicago where she obtained both a Masters degree and a Ph.D. in history.  Her Doctoral Thesis, The Rise of Christian Fundamentalism in the American Electorate was well written and a meticulous examination of her topic.

Catherine returned to her alma mater of DePaul to teach and instilled in her students an appreciation for the historical figures at the center of momentous social movements.  Long after students completed her classes, they carried with them a deep admiration of the men and women who left an indelible mark upon this country and around the world.

Though not born of a political family, Catherine took a sabbatical from DePaul at the age of twenty-six and ran for state representative to the Illinois General Assembly.  Enthusiastic DePaul undergraduates volunteered in droves to work for her campaign and when Catherine won the primary and followed with a victory in the fall election, her political career was successfully underway.

When Catherine reached the constitutionally eligible age of thirty, she ran for the United States Senate.  The so-called political pundits thought she should wait, and try her hand at a congressional seat before taking on a statewide campaign, but she streaked across Illinois politics like a meteor—-and won!

Now, as the sunlight continued to ebb and the shadows in the Capitol lengthened, Catherine in her eighth year as a U.S. Senator from Illinois entered Orno’s Italian restaurant for an authentic Italian meal.

Senator Wells, how good to see you again, the hostess greeted her warmly.  I saw you on television with that unfortunate Mr. Moreland.  That was such a shame, Maria lamented.

Yes, it was terrible.

Well, you just come right in, relax, have some wine, and enjoy one of Carmello’s delicious meals, said Maria, as she eyed the senator’s briefcase.

Oh, don’t worry, Maria.  It’s not a lot of work...just a few papers to look through.

Despite Orno’s setting in the high-rent district of New York Avenue, the prices were more moderate than several other Italian restaurants in D.C.  The owner and chef, Carmello Marletto, was a warm gregarious person who delighted in serving fine meals to a myriad of repeat customers.  Undoubtedly, he would come out of the kitchen later to personally greet the senator.

Catherine discovered Orno's shortly after she and her husband Bob returned from vacation in Rome the previous summer.  During their stay in the eternal city they often opted to dine at one of the sidewalk cafes—-a ristorante—-of which there were dozens within walking distance of their hotel.  By doing so, Catherine and Bob absorbed the full ambiance of Rome and Catherine developed a deep fondness for the Italian people.  On their last night in Rome they visited the Trevi fountain and found it bathed in a soft golden light and they each tossed a coin over their shoulder as they made a wish—-a custom that legend says insures your return to Rome.  Catherine's wish was to return to Rome one day with Bob.

As Maria escorted the senator through the modern high-ceilinged trattoria, she led her to a small table in the back where she could have some privacy.

Here you are, Senator Wells.  I’ll tell Carmello you’re here.  I'm sure he’ll cook up something very special for you.

Thanks, Maria, but do tell Carmello not to go to any trouble.

Maria nodded and departed as a waiter approached.  Good evening, Senator.  Would you like a drink perhaps?

Yes, I'd like a glass of Chianti, please.  When the waiter returned within a couple of minutes with her wine, Catherine informed him, I’m not going to order dinner for a while, so I’ll just wave when I’m ready."

Certainly, he said, and departed.

Catherine reached for her briefcase, but before she could peruse its contents, she was interrupted.

Excuse me.  Senator Wells?

Catherine looked up with annoyance clearly evident on her face.

My name is William.  Please forgive my intrusion, as I realize you are sitting down to dinner.

Obviously, the senator replied curtly not used to being interrupted, as she glanced toward the front door where a security guard stood alert and looking in her direction.  She knew if she needed his assistance, he would pounce on the intruder very quickly.  Catherine smiled at him casually and looked back toward her visitor.

William at over six feet tall was a large man weighing two hundred and fifty pounds.  He had a well-rounded mouth complimented by thin lips, and he possessed a large slightly curved nose, while a receding hairline exposed a wide forehead over dark piercing eyes.  Those intelligent, dark eyes could narrow into a laser-like stare at an adversary, or his thin lips could curl into a disarming, wry smile toward both friends and foes alike.

I wish to speak to you on behalf of the Virginia delegation.

Well, I suggest that you call my office in the morning to arrange an appointment.

I realize I am imposing upon you in a rather unorthodox manner...

Well, I’d say so, the senator interjected.

But if I might have just five minutes of your time, Senator.

Senator Wells hesitated.  As a politician, she knew whenever someone wanted to discuss something—-no matter how inane—-it was always important to them.

She eyed the man and summed him up quickly—-a gift she possessed that served her well in her vocation.  He had soft features, and his eyes conveyed a sense of sincerity and despite his size, he had a non-intimidating, gentle manner about him.  There was also an unmistakable sense of urgency in his voice that drew her curiosity, and the fact that he had introduced himself as a member of the Virginia delegation further piqued her curiosity, as first and foremost Catherine was a politician.  If there was something this delegate to the national convention thought Senator Wells should know Catherine found her ever-constant thirst for political information trumped her desire for privacy.

She nodded for him to have a seat.  Five minutes, she stated, but I warn you it will be much shorter if I don’t like what you have to say.

Fair enough, he agreed, as he sat down.

So what is so important, Mr....uh...?

Grayson...William Grayson, but please, call me William.

Let’s skip the social amenities, shall we?  I’m tired, and I’ve got work to do, so I would appreciate it if you would simply come straight to the point.

Yes, of course, he nodded, as he took no offense at the senator’s curt manner.  First, I want to say what a terrible tragedy to have befallen Governor Moreland.  I understand there were doctors in the ballroom that worked on him immediately but to no avail, and I heard it was such a massive coronary even if he had been in a hospital when it occurred nothing could have been done for him.

Catherine nodded in confirmation.

It must have been a horrible moment for his wife and family, as well as for all of his supporters.  To be at such a heightened level of elation and see their candidate—-the one they believed in—-win the primary that insured him of the presidential nomination of his party, he said, as he shook his head in genuine regret.  For that victory celebration to descend from the pinnacle of elation into the depths of anguish must have been absolutely devastating.  I know that you were by his side in Chicago and that you supported him from the very beginning, which brings me to why I wanted to speak with you.  Whether you realize it or not, you have attained a position of great influence within the party.

Well, I don’t know...

Please, Senator Wells, we both know I am not overstating it, nor am I mentioning it merely to flatter you.  The fact you endorsed Governor Moreland so early in the primary process, indeed, even before the primaries began, has given you great credibility.  In fact, your endorsement and your campaigning on his behalf helped him win, and as I’m sure you’re aware, winning means everything in this town.

Catherine eyed the man seated across from her without comment.

"Of course, the delegates committed to Governor