Chapter Fifteen
IN THE COURSE of political events at the University, some incidents that gather press attention confirm the worst in the politicians-in-training that dominated Student Government.
Both sides of the campaign to save the Academic Council’s budgeting authority engaged in hyperbole and silly stunts to highlight the flaws in electing the other side. Despite the high volume of negativism, it actually turned out to be the most genuinely competitive election in a long time with the highest turnout of actual votes cast in almost a decade.
The reason for the unusual outcome was an incident that occurred on the third floor one fairly routine day. Ben, Eric, and Wayne were conducting official business for the Academic Council when they noticed an unusual piece of mail. Inside a manila envelope, someone left one black rose and a copy of what looked like a Student Senate bill.
“My God, look at this!” Wayne exclaimed, as Ben and Eric struggled to get a glimpse of what the bill proposed to do. It proposed eliminating the Academic Council. Scribbled in the margins with red letters was the phrase “Continue campaigning and this will be passed.”
Someone was willing and confident in their ability to try and destroy a large student organization in the name of defeating a political opponent. Truly scary stuff for college students to do to one another, Ben had thought at the time. Unfortunately, in time, Ben would learn that Wayne and Eric had actually planted the threat of terrorism to their organization in a bid to gain press attention and make their opponents look bad – simply because it was a believable possibility.
Who would have thought a Student Government election could result in something like that? Apparently, even the idealist underdogs could be underhanded when they needed to be…
MIKE STOPPED READING out loud for the benefit of his partners-in-justice, and closed the novel as he waited for their thoughts on the subject he just rose in reading that excerpt from his own novel.
“Well, there are two possibilities. One, that either Kyle Schiff or William Ose are replaying their old games,” Adam suggested.
“Or,” Bennita interrupted, “someone else wants us to think so.”
“Right. Will did not make my list because I did not use him as the basis for any meaningful character in the novel, much less make fun of that character, outside of what I just read. I don’t think an error of omission would drive anyone to commit heinous crimes such as the ones we are dealing with.”
“But he did make an effort to get into the leadership honorary, and you did reveal a truthful and nasty secret of his in here. We have to tread lightly,” Adam pointed out.
Mike turned to Bennita. “Alright, then. I think it’d be best all the same if we talked with him. You know him better than we do, Bennita. Seek him out; I think he is a congressional staffer now.”
“And what will you be doing?”
“The last few people on my list haven’t been productive. Adam and I are going to go through what’s left of the list to screen out unlikely adversaries. I think we’ll find Will is not our suspect, but hopefully the would-be killer is on this list.”
“Agreed,” she said as they all rose from their meeting place, and went their separate ways. Time to reach out and touch someone, Bennita said as she began making the arrangements for a flight back to D.C.
WILL OSE WAS a cunning, calculating sort of individual. Back in college, he quit as a pledge to an influential fraternity when his ethics stopped him from accepting a well-plotted career path at the University. Instead, he began working with the Academic Council and its subsidiaries to build an alternative power base. He used them in a bid to split the establishment, and kept it split until an acceptable leader, Aimee Jackson, was elected student body president. He even postponed leaving Gainesville until completing a law degree in order to see his plan through.
After making “a killing” as a lawyer who lawfully manipulated federal statutes, a few years back he took a pay cut in order to be a part of the team that wrote federal statutes. He now works for a very influential subcommittee chairman in the U.S. House. Therefore, when Bennita Jones called, while he was thrilled to hear a friend from college calling him out of the blue, he did not know what to expect, and tried not to pin down an ideal time for the two of them to chat. Somehow, though, they made it work by having her catch him as he was leaving a committee hearing and was walking back to the office to prep for another meeting he had shortly thereafter.
His 3-piece suit and leather briefcase was hardly unusual, although his slicked back hair was something new. Bennita was not sure if she liked it, but she was glad to see him nonetheless. “Will!”
The two of them hugged before he asked, “How are you doing?”
“Good, good. And you?”
“No complaints. We just had a very productive hearing in there about the future of space-flight and the need to commercialize some touristy visitors to it. The future is now, and I like what I see.”
“Did you like what you saw in Mike’s new book?”
He scowled at the thought, especially since his old friend didn’t waste any time reminiscing. “I don’t know what you mean. Should I be happy for him in that he’s got Adam working on a movie version and that he’s made more from that than either of us could hope for in a lifetime?”
“That’s hardly what I meant by that,” she said.
“Oh, you mean did I like the book itself. I will say I was a little hurt that he did not ask for my help when he won a surprise seat in Congress a few years back. And I am a little surprised that his book did little to mention the influence of law students on campus politics.”
“Is that all though?”
“Oh, Bennita, if I wanted to do him harm, I would not be nearly as cowardly as that idiot who sends threatening letters and runs over actors. I would slap him with a lawsuit so fast his head would spin. And in that way, I would make him pay for getting rich off the lives of his so-called college friends,” Will said with some uncharacteristic anger.
“Well, that’s reassuring,” she said with a bit of sarcasm.
“Trust me, he made enough enemies both in college and with this book for his obvious contempt for the way things are done in politics that I would not need to make such an overt attempt to undercut this new project he’s got going. I’d be more worried that Kyle’s jealousy over Adam’s involvement in the project would cause problems.”
They made it around the final bend of the mundane building toward his congressional office before he continued, “We all know, however, what can happen when someone begins to relive their past; they can get obsessed,” Will said. They were now in front of the door to his office, and he spun to look at his former friend directly. “Bennita, it was great to see you again. But you’ve got the wrong guy. I have little motive, too much at risk, and quite frankly little interest in seeing that smug face lost on the world,” he said before he darted into the cramped room, leaving Bennita there standing in the middle of the hallway as several giggling interns ran in the opposite direction to fetch their Member’s lunch.
He should have known better than try to lead us down another path in a bid for misdirection. She shook her head. I’d never thought Will could even fathom such an act, but then, why try to blame a friend of yours unless you are guilty and trying to shift the blame? She began walking toward the security checkpoint at the end of the hall.
Behind her, Will stuck his head out of the office door to watch her moving away from him; he was on the phone talking, but just wanted to make sure she knew her way out.
“I COPY THAT, Walt. I am getting into position now,” the lady in sunglasses said as she leaned down into a convenient spot on the roof of a multi-level shopping center adjacent to the building where Bennita lived.
“Now, remember, she left Capitol Hill a few minutes ago. That gives you a window of maybe twenty minutes to accomplish your current goal, remove the evidence from the scene, and wait for her to return,” Walt said in between signal outages.
After ending the conversation with him, she put two gloves on that happened to match her black outfit and hat. Next, she opened the box beside her and reached inside.
BENNITA’S FAVORITE PLACE to sit, drink coffee, and read the newspapers was at the Cosi on the corner opposite of where she lived in D.C. Her block was a relatively quiet, almost deserted part of town – especially during mid-day. This made it an ideal place for rest and relaxation, when she got the chance to do so.
For her reading pleasure, several newspapers and magazines were laid out in front of her. Her steaming cup of coffee was also resting off to the right side of the table. The first news item she picked up was this week’s edition of Time Magazine.
Inside its red borders and below the title lettering was an interesting pose by Mike Adams, positing a triumphant individual standing large over a few cartoon-like scenes of his alma mater, vote-buying, and placard-waving parades. The headline read: “Party Patrol in the Swamp”, with a sub-heading of fine print that read “How a Former Insider Took Aim at His Colleagues.”
She flipped to the cover article, and began skimming the words Ashley Woodard had written about him after her two “exclusive” sit-down interviews. A lot of this expose was already well-known, but there were some insightful lines here and there. Among them:
“Despite being the only member of his circle of friends to make it as far as an unlikely term in Congress, Michael Adams seems to contradict himself (and Ben Burns) in the writing of his best-selling novel. Like his alter-ego, he gave a speech at the end of his Student Government career declaring “no regrets” over his time spent there. And yet, he returns to his past and makes fun of it, as if he had regrets over the worst of it, and wanting to recapture the spirit of the better of those times.”
She also wrote on the investigations into incidents on the set of filming his movie: “With no leads and miniscule clues to work with, federal investigators are doing their best to help crack a case that threatens to permanently shut down plans by Mike and his college friend, Adam Ruppesberger, to make a movie out of the better-written parts of the book. Several incidents, including the bombing of his sister’s garage, have led these investigators to suspect that whoever wants harm done to him has a very passionate, personal reason to do so; as if making fun of college would expose too much truth about their own lives to allow it to make it to the silver screen.”
Two beeps from her phone pulled Bennita’s attention away from the magazine article. Mike was calling at the pre-arranged time.
“Hey, Bennita. Did Will have anything enlightening to share?”
She cleared her throat in disapproval. “No. He sounds like all the rest of them. They have plenty of reasons to not like you, but they all plead that they lack the interest or time to act on their hate. Will is only different because he tried to pin the whole thing on a fit of jealousy by Kyle for your working with Adam.”
“I actually wondered about that myself, but Kyle did not seem eager to confront me about the whole thing, which is true to his nature. I doubt even a severe mood swing could bring him to such a sweeping conspiracy.” Bennita leaned back in her chair until her head rest against the window of the coffee shop.
“Now,” Mike continued, “I have been looking through this list and have some very promising leads…”
The window began vibrating, as if the decibel level outside had reached unprecedented levels. She then heard a strong, piercing sound that sounded like gunfire. She looked toward the source of the sound, and saw the windows to her apartment breaking. “Mike, I gotta go!” she said in a rush as she clicked the monitor off and bolted out the door of the Cosi.
When she came around the corner entrance of Cosi, she saw her apartment was on fire, surely an electrical one caused by a stray bullet. She dropped to her knees in despair. “My home?!?” she cried out in a mix of anger and sadness, just as something clicked insider her. She began running toward her apartment building, for there was just one thing clear. Mike’s antagonist would be at the scene of the crime. Maybe, just this once, she would have enough luck left to place this guy under citizen’s arrest.
But Bennita could not find him or her. No one suspicious was found at or leaving the scene. The few people she could find were bystanders watching the fire burn, no one with evidence to bury. She glanced up at the street light on the opposite side of the street. At least that tiny camera caught everything on tape, Bennita thought with relief at Adam’s little miracle.
THE FIRE CREWS and police came just as swiftly as the press. You see, the press keep police scanners in their news bureaus just in case they can scoop any breaking stories about crime in the area.
This time, however, Bennita saw the media as a welcome distraction from her dramatic loss. That is why she allowed a gaggle of them to surround her and begin pelting her with questions about the incident.
“Can you describe it?” one youthful reporter said, eagerly waiting to press his pencil against the notepad in front of him.
“The gunfire was powerful enough to rattle the windows at the Cosi,” she said as she pointed in the direction of the coffee place. “That’s all I know.”
Someone stepped forward; she was a figure that seemed familiar, but Bennita couldn’t figure out until the lady dressed in a black business outfit spoke. “Ashley Woodard, Time Magazine. Do you think this incident has anything to do with the incidents in Portland and Gainesville over Mike Adams and his new novel?”
Startled a little, Bennita did not know where to begin. “Well, Ashley, that’s tough to say. Unlike Mike and his actors, I have no connection with his novel or his movie. So, I really don’t know why anyone would come after me, except that I am one of his friends. And I think that’s a pretty lame excuse to go on. I honestly hope it was just a gas leak that sparked an explosion. Either way, I guess I have paperwork to fill out…” she trailed off; hoping her brush off would break off the question.
“But isn’t it true that Mike has initiated an independent investigation and begun speaking to select individuals from his college days in hopes of finding this criminal? I’ve got confirmed reports of his sighting down at an Orlando hospital speaking to an administrator there. And there are rumors that even Adam Ruppesberger was scheduled to visit a philanthropist in Fort Lauderdale-”
“Ashley, Mike is doing the only human thing possible for him to do. Being attacked, he is aggressively trying to pursue his antagonist by gathering as much information as he can on the people he knew best in college. I’m sure if Mike wants to speak with you about, he will contact you. Now if you excuse me, I really do have insurance papers to fill out,” Bennita said as she broke through the circle of reporters and headed in the direction of the police.
Ashley hung back as the other local reporters stampeded after Bennita, hoping to get one last statement for the record from the newly identified victim in these waves of attacks. She knows more than she is letting on, Ashley thought as she pulled out her phone and dialed Joe Walters, Time’s Editor-In-Chief.
As she waited for the connection, Ashley stuffed her notepad into her purse, next to her favorite black gloves and matching hat. “Joe, I think I have a lead on this story,” she finally said.
“Good. You have a deadline, go get me the news.”