In The Shadow
By Ed Wingham
Copyright © 2011 by Edwin W. Wingham. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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First Printing, 2011
Introduction
We as humans all too often seek fulfillment from the fresh waters on the other side of the river. Marty Madison, In the Shadow, extricates himself from his humdrum existence opting for the fresher waters that inexorably pull him into life threatening torrents.
This story, though historical fiction, paints a reflection of the tenuous U.S. - Pakistani relationship and the long masking shadow that emanates not only from the Pentagon but from Islamabad and its culture of militarism and classism. The futures of both culturally divergent nations are tied to the eventual cessation of hostilities in Afgahnistan and the shrinking worldwide influence the U.S. will exercise on the world stage. Though In the Shadow paints a discomforting picture of greed and privilege gained from the grit of the common and the ordinary, an American policy of peace that mends the broken will secure rays of sunlight through the shadows of despair.
Ed Wingham
Chapter 1
Life on Lombard Lane was excruciatingly normal if anything. Having lived here for a year, I gained the flavor of both the community and my immediate environs, and they were, in nearly every case, typical in every way; it was that very common predictability that I found so mind numbing and void of value. The usual jokes, cookouts, trivial conversations, and gossip, rarely true and mostly unfounded, left me hollow and exasperated and seeking a balm to massage my troubled soul.
“Marty, Marty, come on out for a sec. What’s goin’ on?”
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a bit.”
Todd Kramer was the damndest most worthless human I had ever known. He worked sales for a company his father had founded and must have been fortunate enough to hire some excellent employees because he sure as hell was totally clueless. Somehow, by the grace of God, he had, apparently, fathered two kids and had latched onto someone who must have been desperately lonely for male companionship. Naturally, Bette and he had to live right next door.
“Morning Bette. How are you, Todd? Nice day, huh?”
“Nice? Hell, man, this is June, and a Saturday at that. Shuffled the kids over to grandma’s and we’re going boating. Call up one of those girl type friends of yours, and tag along. What da ya say?”
“Gee, that’s super of you, really. Maybe some other time Todd. Got a million things on the list for this afternoon, and rain tomorrow. Speaking of which, I’ll take a rain check. Maybe some other time; be careful and no, I don’t need another buoy.”
They turned whispering to themselves no doubt about my unsocial tendencies; couldn’t they somehow get the hint that I would go to most any lengths to avoid their company? Frankly, I found both disgusting. Bette had changed hair colors six times in two months; she could easily qualify for the witness protection program. No, please, she’s not wearing that bikini thing. Bette had adopted twenty pounds in all the wrong places, and made no effort to hide it; her bulges had bulges.
The Kramers, though perhaps the least likely couple to invade my social circle, if I had one, appeared to be happily married. Tom and Cary Yaltz lived the other side of Todd and Bette and they both gave the unmistakable impression of each cheating on the other, and neither seemed to care. On the other side of me, two families had moved in and out within the last six months and the property remained available and would likely do so in these economic times. I admit I hadn’t exactly been the most outgoing neighbor so perhaps my view of life on Lombard was a bit jaundiced. But run-of-the-mill people, shallow in scope and purpose, and my routine and tedious job left me unfulfilled and yearning for something to fill the space.
The message light was blinking as I escaped via the back door avoiding the windows that gave view to the Kramer’s. A Washington area code, 202; geez, I thought, maybe the president needs my council, as I half chuckled to myself. Oh, my job was, well, okay. Pedestrian would be a word I used over and over as I thought about the decisions I had made to prepare myself for accounting. The job was steady; I had passed the CPA and pondered opening my own firm if I could establish a sounder financial footing. But God, did I want to spend the rest of my life balancing ledgers and seeking tax loopholes into my eighties? The satisfaction index would never be pegged on that course of action.
Ronald Robinson, calling me from D.C. Ronald Robinson? Yeah, yes, I do remember him. Oh, we weren’t bosom close but we’d shared a drink or two at Benny’s, the local hangout years past during our collegiate years. Stranger things have happened I mused as I returned the call.
“Yes, is Ron Robinson there please?”
Some very young female type had answered and yelled “dad” as she unceremoniously dropped the phone and scattered to whereabouts unknown.
“Yes, this is Ron. Can I help you?”
“Ron, this is Marty Madison, returning your call.”
“Marty, thanks for calling back. How are you?”
He strung a few interrogatories together hardly waiting for my replies.
“No doubt you are bewildered why I would call you after such an extended period. First of all, I feel fortunate to have found you.”
“Well, that is very kind of you, thanks. Working for an accounting firm here in Centre City and bought a place of my own just over a year ago. No, not married. Yes, we dated for a long while, but we had some pretty evident compatibility issues and just took us a long time to admit it. I do miss her though, I must say. How about you?”
“Oh, we have a daughter, whom you virtually met. Kayla is six and Missy and I couldn’t be happier. As you can tell, we live in the infamous 202 area code and in the shadow of the Potomac, and that is, in a way, the reason I called. But I would prefer not to dig too deeply into the actual reason unless we could arrange some face-to-face time. Centre City is less than two hours from here if I time my departure correctly, so I wondered if I, or we, could find a convenient time. Would you, perhaps, have any opening tomorrow?”
“Gee, I guess I could rearrange my pressing social calendar. Would you like to meet here at my place? Okay, ten o’clock it is. You’ve stirred my imagination. Anyway, thanks Ron. Oh, do you have my address? Oh, good. See you at ten.”
Wasn’t Robinson a political science major? Washington would be a good fit.
As I peeked from the kitchen window, Todd was icing his case of beer and lugging it into the back of his truck. Now, that’s enough for Bette, I thought, but what will he do? Shameful Marty, shameful. You are better than that, or at least I hoped. Todd changes boats about as often as most of us change underwear. He had recently purchased the latest beauty claiming that this year’s motor produced twenty-five more horsepower and would be perfect for their skiing expeditions. It will take more horses than that to pull him if he continues to expand exponentially.
As I walked back to the den and study, the preponderance of accounting books, manuals, tax codes, and dog-eared college texts dominated the desk and adjacent work table. This had become my life, my raison d’etre; I swam in these waters everyday constantly living ahead of the latest revisions and polices ready to regurgitate some lame and often debatable interpretation of a tax code for the ultimate benefit of a paying client. Though I felt comfortable with my knowledge of the minutest of details, perhaps my malaise was directly proportional to selling my services to the highest bidder; prostitution is, afterall, the oldest profession.
“See ya Marty. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Todd maneuvered his truck and boat from the cul-de-sac blowing his horn at every opportunity and waving at no one in particular.
“Good bye, Todd. Stay overnight if you want.”
Shameful, Marty, shameful.
Chapter 2
My departure from northern Virginia was delayed by the usual office call. At some point, I’m going to replace Fletcher; I had hired him simply as a friend of Missy right after we were married, and I’ve resented it ever sense. Oh, he’s honest and puts in the hours but seems incapable of making the least decision without presidential approval.
Traveling to Centre City at this time on a Sunday morning was, at least, a pleasurable drive and my BMW hugged the road just as it was advertised. The last mileage sign noted another thirty-five miles, so my ETA should be no more than a half hour late.
As I pulled into his neighborhood, Marty was out on his porch reading. He looked much the same as I tapped my horn and waved.
“Marty, man, good to see you. I was just saying to myself, you look the same, I mean exactly as you did in college. I’m afraid I’ve put on a few pounds. How are you?”
“Ron, great. Good to see you. I don’t detect any weight gain; I think you’ve bulked up a bit. Getting up to your fighting weight, huh? Here, Ron, have a chair. Let me get you a drink. The usual?”
“Hey, okay, I could stand a Molson; it took me just over two hours. Great drive at this time on a Sunday. Is there much traffic around this booming metropolis?”
“Yeah, Ron, really. I am constantly fighting traffic snarls motoring my way two miles across town”, I mused.
Ron rambled on about his family, and especially his daughter, more than anything else. We were working on his third beer when we moved from the superficial to the reason he called.
“Marty, I’ve had a couple of different positions since I’ve been in D.C. I worked for Senator Stanback, oh I guess, for a year or longer as an aide. He retired as you may recall, and I was thrashing around a bit wondering what I would do. Well, a few years ago, almost to the day, Stanback called and said that the White House had an opening, something of the sort of a glorified “gopher”, I thought when I first heard. But, at the time, I was somewhat desperate and the pay seemed unusually generous, so I agreed. I worked really as a liaison with the Secretary of Defense, and through a few quirks of fate, you know, folks retiring, and taking other positions, I have become something of the secretary’s closest confidante. He uses me for various tasks, convene meetings with underlings, and generally, see that his agenda is honored and he’s kept abreast of any of the usual political gossip that constantly circles the president’s cabinet. So, as I said, something of a confidante, though I like assistant to the secretary lots better. Am I making this clear, or have I had too many Molsons at this point?”
“No, man; it’s fascinating, really. I’m with you. You are obviously quite important.”
“Nah, not on a bet. But, I’ve had that political bug since I was in junior high and I guess I am right where I always dreamed of being. Tell me more about your situation.”
I drained the last of my beer and watched a damn squirrel shake the remaining pellets of bird food from the fifty-five dollar feeder I’d installed the previous week.
“Beat around a few places before I landed with Cooper and Smythe. They have branches in several locations, maybe even in your neck of the woods. I’ve worked up to a nice position and thought I might open my own firm in three to five years if the pay remains steady and the economy doesn’t totally collapse. Unlike you, I wouldn’t say that this is my dream job, but I can do it, I know I can do it, and I think I can make a pretty nice living doing so. It can be pretty mundane but there are no perfect jobs, or at least that is my rationalization for staying in this drab accounting environment.”
Ron reclined and we sat for a few minutes as I waited for him to divulge and divest more of the meat of the matter.
“So, Ron, do I have to give you another beer, or are you able to speak more directly about your call?”
“Geez, Marty, no more for me, please; thank you. Those were pretty tasty though. Listen, man. I don’t know. Maybe I have miscalculated, I mean, you’re pretty set doing what you do, and you’re making ends meet and saving some cash towards your own firm. It’s just, well, I mean, I consider what I do pretty much at the center of the universe. Oh, I’m not in the inner circle, if there is one, but there is a lot of stuff moving down the tracks. So, let me tell you some of it anyway, as much as I can, and see what you think. Okay?”
“Sure, Ron. I’m at least willing to listen.”
“Can’t go into exhaustive detail as some of it is classified as you might surmise, but my boss, Secretary Donovan has asked me to do some additional travelling. There are preparatory visits to places to better gauge where these nations are politically, to get the gist of the environment and if it is safe for him or other cabinet members; in other words, I would lay some groundwork. I’ve been twice and Missy has tolerated it but those frequent trips put an additional strain on her and Kayla. I was gone nearly a month back in March. So, I briefed the secretary that I would investigate the possibility of another, well call it an attaché, and he seemed favorable. I don’t know what you’re making now but this would start mid one hundreds and every possible expense is covered. This is totally out of your area but I always respected your talents and you struck me as someone who can exercise a strong degree of diplomacy and yet take care of himself if need be. To be a bit more frank, there are some out of the way places, or as Donovan calls them, “exotic”.
“Man, Ron, you are doing some pretty neat stuff; that’s certainly more exciting than maximizing tax returns for corporations whose books are, shall we say, not quite accurate?”
“Well, listen, Marty, I’ve spilled some of the beans about this. I would love to have someone chosen and up to speed in a month and I do not in anyway want to pull you from this position and the safety and security that it brings. But, I wanted to give you a shot and unless you want to reject it now, I would appreciate it if you would ponder it for a week or so. But do let me know as I won’t interview anyone else until I hear from you. Is that fair?”
“Of course. Yes, that is not only fair, but I am grateful and somewhat flattered that you would resurrect me from the ashes of our college days and consider me for this. I promise I will give it some consideration. I really will.”
“Okay, man. Got to get back before three as we are picnicking with some friends and Kayla will disown me if I I’m late. I better run.”
Ron slapped my shoulder and we exchanged thanks as he made his way from the driveway and waved as he departed. I sat there recounting and musing over the main nuggets weighing them initially against the humdrum assets and debits and tax laws that ever wound themselves around one another.
“Me, an attaché?”
Wait until I try to explain that to Todd Kramer. My God, I’d have to spell it first.
Chapter 3
The sweltering Virginia humidity of mid-June arrived early and unannounced, and would, I feared, be a harbinger of more brutal days ahead. Paint me like most folks, I was a critic of the unusually cold winters and the hotter than normal summers that stayed well past their welcome; we couldn’t be pleased.
I’d managed a few sleepless nights as Friday approached as I sensed the urgency to render some decision on Ron’s invite. Taking stock in my own life, it was obvious that I had opted for the safe and secure and had approached most important decisions quite conservatively. School, finances, my occupation and even my personal life have taken the safety first demeanor. No wonder I often longed to push the red button and launch something, anything, and see where it would land. Could I do it? I mean, could I give up this job, the relatively good money and comfort of knowing that I can make my own way in this myriad of suffocating regulations, at least eventually? Okay, I have to do something; I’ll give Ron a call and meet again this weekend in hopes of filling in a few more blanks. Sounds like me; always opting for the safe approach.
“Yeah, Ron, Marty. Yes, pretty good. Your daughter is quick on the draw with your phone. You need to increase her allowance. Listen, I know I owe you a decision but I wondered if we could compare notes again for just a bit? Would either day this weekend work, just for an hour or so? Are you sure? I absolutely don’t want to intrude. Alright then, that would be super; Sunday at eleven at your place. Yes, I have the address. Thanks much; I’ll see you then.”
Man, had Ron moved up in the world. Look at this neighborhood, gated with million dollar houses if they cost a buck. He’s either making the big money or has a printing press in the basement. Here it is, 4100 Montpeliar Place. I’ll just leave my 2008 Accord parked on the street. I wouldn’t want to embarrass him.
“Hello, I bet your name is Kayla. How are you?”
“Daddy, a man is here. You can come in.”
“Well, thank you. Hey Ron, good to see you again. Sorry to barge in; I hope you’ve had a good week.”
“Please, this way Marty. Marty, this is Missy. Marty Madison is an old friend and an all around good guy.”
“Hello, Marty, pleased to meet you.The weather has been ideal today; please sit outside, Ron; it’s so pleasant. I can never get enough of these days. Kayla and I have been swimming but I couldn’t talk Ron in to it this morning. So, you must be an important old friend.”
“Well, I am feeling older every day.”
“So, pardon us; I’ll leave you two guys to it for awhile. Come, Kayla.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Gosh, you’ve got a great family Ron. And look at this place. How long have you …”
“Oh, about a year and a half. Actually my folks had passed and as an only child, I received the bulk of their inheritance and Missy’s dad has been very generous. But, we really like it here.”
“I can see why. Really nice, Ron, really.”
Our conversation took on the usual tried and true until eventually I weighed into the deeper water spurred by the initial drink.
“Look, Ron, I wondered if you could say a bit more about the travel regimen. I mean, would I be gone for months on end or is it infrequent, or is there any schedule?”
“Hard to say, Marty. More than half of it, best I can measure is short term, spur-of-the-moment trips that may be dictated by a world event or some pending cabinet-level directive of which I would have little knowledge or forewarning. My latest round involved stops in Jordan, Israel, and a week in Syria. Can’t say whole bunches about any of that but you probably can connect some of the dots. Two weeks later, Donovan made stopovers in two of those countries so, I’m sure my advance trip helped paved the way for his mission in that area, whatever it was.
“Do you sit in on his high-level meetings and is that also an area I would be privy to? Not sure why I ask that, but wondered.”
“I would venture to say, not at this point. Probably, any directives for travel, or as they say, other duties as assigned, would be filtered through me. I don’t attend, not on a regular basis anyway, but am usually not more than an arm’s length after the meeting. Does that sound kosher?”
“Oh, for sure. Just rattling off questions or thoughts as they surface. My cautious and inquisitive nature I suppose.”
“Okay, man, I know this isn’t easy. Ask away.”
“You mentioned other duties. Are you able to be more specific at all?”
“Those items are purely secretary driven and span a broad range and often spill into other areas which might need considerable levels of discretion and, I don’t know, I guess, observation. Don’t mean to be so vague, but there are items which arise and take on a life of their own which precipitates action, and normally action on an immediate basis. Let me give you something of a better idea without swimming with the sharks. Donovan, oh, less than a month ago, summoned me into his office; he seemed particularly irritated and raised his voice and gave me a direct order on some information he needed in regards to another cabinet member, who’ll remain nameless at this juncture. So, I plodded through the barrage of online crap that is available to the world and culled a few things of note, but not exactly the nuggets I was looking for. Made my way to this guy’s condo complex and staked out the area sufficiently to determine if his companions were always of a “stately” variety, if you get my gist. His behavior was repeatable and predictable and for reasons only Donovan knows, this was exactly the info he wanted. So, I mean, the stuff is random, sometimes unordered, and may require a little subterfuge. Guess that is the world of politics for 2014.”
I leaned back with the subterfuge comment reverberating back and forth unsure if there were limits or if the Wild West had moved east to Pennsylvania Avenue. Scrounging up dirt on someone else was not my idea of a good time, and that aspect seemed especially displeasing.
“Look Ron, I will admit that the travel, I mean if I felt I was actually engaged in some portion of a mission that benefited this administration, or any president or this country, then I could be energized about that, really excited. But to stake out somebody’s apartment and record their personal life doesn’t give me a warm and fuzzy.”
“Yeah, listen, I gave you an extreme case, I would say. Been over there several years and that was a first and frankly, I agree, I didn’t like it much either. So, I doubt that venture is typical but, again, I play the cards I’m dealt. I do as he dictates and that is the bottom line. Almost without exception, I have felt strongly about my itineraries and what I have been asked to accomplish. Again, the tasks so to speak would filter through me and we’d go from there.”
As I reached for another drink, Missy reappeared having splashed her way from the pool. There was little doubt about her obvious physical assets as she stooped for the towel and begged me to stay for lunch. Ron hugged her and she graciously promised to have it ready momentarily.
“Gee, Ron, I hadn’t planned to stay. That’s very kind of you; guess you feel sorry for the unmarried and unwashed. Thanks much.”
Missy and Kayla were social butterflies for sure and dominated the conversation. Kayla’s account of her latest camping trip and Ron’s promise for the upcoming vacation in Italy were topics of great interest. Snickering to myself, I was afraid my daily experience balancing ledger sheets for Cherokee Coal might not compare.
“Wow, I have got to run. Missy, thanks so very much and Kayla, thank you for sharing about your upcoming trip and all you’ve done so far this summer.”
“It was great to have you, Marty. I hope Ron hasn’t scared you away. Please come back soon when we can spend more time. Drive carefully.”
“I’ll walk you out, Marty.”
“I know I owe you a …”
“Wait, Marty. Look, I know there’s a lot going on here, not the least of which is a major life change from the security you’ve known to this. I would never have contacted you if I had felt you were not the perfect man for this. The combination of elements involved, I mean intelligence, integrity, commitment to the cause, are key factors. There’s no question you possess those in abundant quantities. I must know by Wednesday this week; I absolutely have to. Please let me know by then.”
We shared a departing hug and Kayla waved from the balcony as I navigated the gate and made my way homeward. Funny, I thought, as I bounced along Virginia route 50; I am but thirty-three, not all that old, and have full confidence in my own person and what I’m doing, and yet, I’m about to draw to an inside straight; hmm, pretty exciting.
Chapter 4
Braxton Phillip’s permanent smile vanished as I announced my decision. The usually affable, never-a bad-day Brax, pushed his coffee cup forward sloshing the contents on the Wall Street Journal and assorted folders. I broke the news to him as gently as I knew, but there was no other way than to let him know that I felt called. His inquisition left him hollow; my reply of feeling unfulfilled in this position failed to register.
“My thanks to you Braxton for giving me a chance years’ ago; it’s meant the world to me. I agonized over this for some weeks now, and this opportunity simply came from nowhere. I wasn’t looking for a change, but I am so attracted to this opportunity; it may be short sighted and I may forever regret this move, but that is the earmark of my whole life: safety first and foremost. I am truly sorry if this leaves you in the lurch, but I know there are very qualified folks looking to move up as well as some very attractive hires from outside. I’ll clean up all of the accounts and make the transition as smooth as I can.”
The conversation lingered for another twenty minutes, but no amount pleading or reconsideration pleas would bear fruit. The decision was made, and I felt a sense of urgency like never before.
“Yes, Ron, look, I have finished the two weeks, actually three, I promised. Yes, I can be there Friday evening at seven. Me too. Very excited , Ron. Okay, see you then.”
Luckily I avoided a speed trap or two as I wound my way to Ron’s; my mind raced with what-ifs and maybe’s, and the whole cacophony of details of what lie ahead. I felt a twinge of uncertainty realizing that I was starting from absolute zero and that my experience level was nonexistent and had nary an acquaintance in this governmental circle. But, after all, Ron did. I trusted his judgment and felt secure enough to overcome most of my lingering doubts.
“Well, Kayla, you’ve grown an inch since I saw you last. You look so pretty this evening.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Madison. My dad is …”
“Hey, brother, get in here; it’s great to have you this evening. Man, I’m happy about this whole thing. It’ll be great and unlike anything else you’ve ever done.”
“Well, that part is the one thing I feel most certain is true. Thanks Ron. Thanks for your onfidence in me. I am anxious …”
“Hello. Hi Marty, great to see you again. Hope your drive was pleasant. Please, Ron, let’s go to the veranda and relax a bit; Carlotta says we’ll eat around seven thirty, if that is satisfactory.”
We wound our way through three or four beautifully proportioned rooms, but who was counting? I was mesmerized by their elegance and charm realizing that I could ill-afford to furnish any of them. Most of my stuff was early Kmart.
I took a deep breath and did my best to relax, and accept this new venture and the new life. Ron poured us his special, some concoction for which he claimed a patent as Missy had wine and Kayla, grape juice. Missy was practically breathtaking in her beige dinner gown against the bronzed skin she’d work so diligently to obtain. Drinking in her beauty was an easy task as our conversations touched on Washington and its way of life. Maybe there was something to marriage after all.
“You’ve cleaned up everything with Phillips and you are scot free.”
“Indeed, Ron. Took several weeks and some long nights, but I owed it to them to do it right. I wouldn’t …”
“Yes, Marty, I am sure. That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to join us. I knew you would do it right. There was never a doubt of that.”
“Marty, Ron tells me you guys met in college. He says you pulled him through Calculus II and the chemistry lab. Otherwise, he might still be matriculating.”
“Ha, ha, well, we helped each other to put it in better perspective. He was a whiz with some of the business stuff, the extra readings and papers that were due. We had a mutual thing going. Associations are a key in college and we did very well.”
“Yes, indeed. My sorority sisters had a scheme and each year the whole study regimen and test taking process was refined. We or I certainly benefited from it. I loved those days.”
“Yes, they were my favorites. I loved the entire independence of being on my own, responsible for myself in every manner. Bet a lot of kids don’t make it in college based on that alone.”
“Listen Marty, Missy could have gone to any college and been right at the top of her class. She’s not only my lovely wife but brilliant, too.”
“Listen to you. You’d think I was a Rhodes Scholar. I did well, but I wouldn’t have with any less effort. Education was there for us all; we just had to grasp it.”
“Well, Kayla, your parents have given you a great start, since they are both so smart.”
“Thank you Mr. Madison. Dad tells me all the time how smart he is.”
“Listen to you, kid. Get over here and give me a hug. Hey, go ask Carlotta if …”
“Sir, dinner is prepared when convenient.”
“I’d say that was great timing.”
Rarely had I ever been blessed by such an exquisite dinner. Every item was prepared with sumptuous care and elegantly served. Carlotta’s attention to detail was impeccable with every course. Surely, I gained five pounds.
“Please, thank you so much, I cannot eat another morsel. Please. It was wonderful.”
Ron and I found our way into a den, an area that he apparently used as an office that provided some level of security and isolation. We sat opposite one another as he handed me a folder.
“Marty, the usual suspects are there. Tax forms, health, of course your salary and overall benefits are paramount. I believe all the numbers that I alluded to are accurate. Donovan had his staff review this three times this week to ensure there was nothing omitted. Damn you anyway, you’re starting at more than I did. I think that is a good sign, Marty. Everything is a go.”