Eye of the Storm (The Mystery Squad)

Prologue

April, 1992

On television, two Democrats and a newsman appear on stage.

"Welcome gentleman," the newsman says, "and welcome viewers."

One is a career politician. Tom Wakefield: the Louisiana senator, the ferocious establishment candidate, and "The Bayou Bulldog." His opponent, in an unusual purple tie, is Ralph Barrow: a native New Yorker, a lawyer, and a former Republican. His politics are unique—in that he has none. The pundits call him a centrist. He calls himself a realist. But in truth, he is neither. Barrow defies explanation.

The debate begins like every other. The host introduces the candidates in the manner outlined above, albeit with more politeness and tact. Then, he reads the candidates a question.

"The first topic for tonight is foreign affairs, security, and the United States as a global superpower. The intent is to give the American voter a chance to judge each of the two candidate's positions and how they will shape America's role moving forward. Gentleman, America has won the Cold War, how would you define our position today? What changes would you like to see?"

Wakefield takes the mic.

"Let me tell you—the world is looking to us for guidance. But what worries me, what keeps me up at night, it's not—uh, it's not any threats from outside. I consider myself a scholar of history. Look back to the Roman Empire. See how it collapsed? Not because of some barbarian invasion, but from within. The rich and their decadence. The poor with nothing but bread and circuses. America's in the same spot. If we don't look inward, that's it. Washington loves fixin' other countries' problems—but they can't. All you end up with is rot back home. Take all the problems of the world and set them aside, just for a moment. Look—look at what happened a year ago in your city, Mr. Barrow. Now the uprising's over, but we've still got crime, unemployment, inequality. How can we—how can we feel justified fighting in other country's wars when we don't even know what we're fighting for? I'd put all of my attention back home."

The camera remains on Wakefield in his broad, blue suit, before cutting back to the host.

"Mr. Barrow, would you like to respond?"

He adjusts his purple tie. "My opponent has a point."

Wakefield laughs politely. "We're running in the same party—there are bound to be a lot of issues we agree upon. The voters want to hear where we disagree."

"I don't disagree with anything you said."

The host frowns. "Would you care to expand on any of the points Mr. Wakefield has just made?"

"Mr. Wakefield is a smart man," Barrow shrugs.

Again, Wakefield laughs. "Then I have your vote?"

"But he's too rigid."

"Excuse me?"

"You're treating these two issues—our presence abroad or improving things at home—as mutually exclusive. They're not. Nothing is. Why can't you do both?"

"You can. It's a matter of attention."

"How do you know which will require more attention. How can you be sure until you get there? Take crime and unemployment. Like every American, I'd like to see those things come down. So how do we do that? I'm humble enough to admit I don't have all the answers. Mr. Wakefield says he has a plan. Attention. He's got pages of policies. I've got nothing. He has things he believes will make most people's lives better, good for him. But what if they don't. You want to reduce our military presence in Europe? Good. What happens next? What if it promotes Russian aggression? What if it destabilizes the region? The world is too complicated for one man to make all of these decisions. Why try? That's why we have a democratic system. I'd talk with everyone. I'd use the power of the presidency to reach out to all of the best people. Use their expertise to augment my own. And I don't care if you're conservative, liberal, or independent. I'd want to hear your voice."

Wakefield pushes his broad body back in his chair. "Are you saying you want to increase troops in Europe?"

"Not at all."

"So you'd decrease them?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Barrow extends a slender arm and awkwardly sips from a glass of water. "I like to keep an open mind," he says at last. The pause is dramatic, but useful. "Mr. Wakefield, I I'm the kind of guy who can work with anyone."

"As am I."

A fumble. Barrow smirks. Now, he has the upper hand. "Forgive me, but Ms. Short may beg to differ."

"Not this again," Wakefield moans. "I'm sick and tired of these baseless rumors."

The newsman interjects, "Mr. Barrow is referring to a former assistant of yours from your time as a lawyer in New Orleans—Christine Short. She claims you fired her without cause. Because of political disagreements?"

"I'm familiar, thank you. None of it's true."

Barrow chuckles.

"Something to say, Mr. Barrow?"

"No."

"Good, then I suggest we return to the issues. We can't have a president that doesn't—that doesn't understand the issues. We're entering a new era Mr. Barrow, and we agree, I think, on many things—but we cannot afford a man who refuses to commit to making decisions on behalf of the nation."

"Again, Mr. Wakefield's rigidity rears its ugly head. He cannot acknowledge his own shortcomings. Ms. Short is a fine, capable woman. See, I've taken up her cause because I believe the American people deserve to know who Mr. Wakefield is on the inside. An uncompromising, ruthless man. I didn't invent this persona—this how he markets himself! I ask, what does that personality lead to? Simple, a decent woman losing her job over nothing. Now, I've brought Ms. Short into my campaign, I'm personally paying her legal fees, because I believe your ideas matter—not your politics."

Wakefield crosses his arms. "Nonsense."

"You know it's true."

"You're obsessed with this woman."

"Explain yourself!"

"Mr. Barrow, you accuse me of mistreating Ms. Short. I refute this accusation. Now, it is true I let her go, but I assure you—I assure you it had absolutely nothing to do with politics. I wasn't even aware of her opinions at the time—and it wouldn't have mattered if I had been. The fact is—uh, the fact is Ms. Short and did have our disagreements—but they were in no way political in nature, far from it. You're young, Mr. Barrow, maybe you've never had to make a difficult decision like that. I regret to inform you that Ms. Short is not the only employee I've let go—nor will she be the last. The American people see through your games—you are guilty of the very sin of which you accuse me. This is pure politics."

"Not everything is political, Mr. Wakefield."

To that, Wakefield gives no response.

A miracle. After the debate, the race swings towards Barrow. Wakefield's victories in his native south keep him ahead but on Super Tuesday, Barrow closes in. His victories in the West bring the race to a virtual tie. Now, a single day before the primary in Barrow's home state, the race is about to turn. With momentum on his side, and few remaining electoral contests, Barrow seems destined to secure the Democratic nomination and beyond that, the presidency.

But life is short. Nothing is certain.