Chapter 27 of Princessa

Runnin' Down the Road

Moments later, they’re gone, calmly putting distance behind them and the burning remnants of Smet’s house. Andy smiles broadly, driving the car, like the cat who’s got the canary. Maria is beside him in the front seat, lighting up a smoke. Fraley in back with the boy jamming an Uzi into his ribs. He doesn’t say anything, wondering what the fuck the world is coming to. All he can think of is a funny mispronounced line from the manager of a losing baseball team way back in the past “we shoulda stood in bed.”

It’s the only thing that comes to mind, after all that time with no sleep and trying so hard to fix up this mess he’d stumbled into. The people holding him look so anything but fearsome, deadly or dangerous. The young girl is so pretty and small, and the boy with the gun, so young, just a kid. It’s not even real to him, like being kidnapped by elves in a movie.

He looks up at the driver who seems to be the only one here who’s in charge of anything. “Whatta you got in mind?” Andy can only shake his head with the big smile covering his face “you and me pal, we gonna… make some changes.”

Colonel Valtos is driving Whitson’s car, heading south on the freeway now, toward Washington. The veep is sitting naked on the front seat beside him, still unconscious. Smet’s in the back, smoking a cigarette; running everything through his mind. If they missed anything, what to do next, what kind of response to expect and get ready for.

Finally Myerinck comes to. He looks over at the man driving and shivers in the cold, wrapping his arms around himself. Valtos sees him and switches on the air conditioner. “Where’re my clothes. It’s cold. I’m freezing. I’m… not well, you know.” “Ah heck, Pete” says Valtos “this is just a way to… humiliate and control the enemy. You know, break down their… resistance. So all you can think about is the cold, and… the embarrassment. And not, you know, think of trying to escape or anything like that.”

Myerinck reaches for the controls on the dash. The colonel hits him hard in the face with the back of his hand, not even taking his eyes off the road. The veep is stunned momentarily, nose bleeding, lip split and the taste of blood in his mouth. He wipes his face feeling sharp pain and starts to worry about the intentions of the man beside him.

“Who are you?” “Call me Nefi. I’m, in charge of killing you… and your family.” “What” says the veep, feeling the aching pain in his head again, even more than the cold now or the fresh wounds on his face.  “Leave them out of it” he orders.

Valtos smiles “oh, come on now, Pete. You’ve killed enough families, over the years, haven’t you? In your wars, with your bombs; your… regime changes, and so forth. Shouldn’t bother you all that much that, one of them is your own.” Myerinck looks at him, trying to think of something to say, stall for time if nothing else. “You’re bluffing.”

“Yeah, maybe” says the colonel “but I figure… your son’ll probably hang himself; daughter’ll maybe overdose on drugs, or medication, whatever. Wife’ll die in car wreck… you got grandchildren?” Myerinck says nothing, trying to get a grip on the situation, figure out what to do. “Anyway” continues the colonel “it’ll all seem…natural enough. All of them, so distraught over your death, or hell… just an accident-prone buncha people, who knows. And… you know what? No one’ll even care.”

“Why” asks the veep “what did we ever do to you.” “Well, Pete I know… you’re a big shot, a big important man and all. You, and your… business partners. You guys run half the world, in one way or another. But to me, you’re just a dirty rotten lying thieving murdering little crook.”

The veep doesn’t answer him, and Valtos goes on “how much money did your company make… I mean your son’s company, off the war, the oil deals, the phony defense build up. Billions? Or more?  And what were you gonna do with all that…stolen money, huh? Buy more control, insure that you and yours will always be in... the White House, forever. I mean, Pete, did you ever stop to think, that poor people, or common ordinary decent people, don’t want to be… cheated and swindled by the likes of you. That they maybe… want good things in life, like you got. And don’t really wanna die in your foreign wars. Think about it, now that you got the chance.”

“What I did” says Myerinck “what I’ve always done… is for the good of my country; and for the good of the world.” “Yeah” says the colonel “me too.” The veep starts to shake all over, can’t help it, can’t stop. And wondering now if it’s just so goddamned cold, or maybe it’s like they really are going to kill him, not even bother with ransom or demands or anything that kidnappers would usually want, especially with such a highly-valued prize.

“I need… medicine” he says, through chattering teeth “my medicine.” “I’m going to give you a lethal overdose of insulin. It’ll look like a heart attack. Be kinda dumb… t’give you any of your other medications, or whatever; doncha think?” “I could be…very valuable to you” says the veep, fighting just to stay focused now, to try and stop his heart from pounding so, and his head from splitting with the pressure.

“Everyone is valuable, Pete. Did you know that? Every child, old person… soldier…no one, more so than any other. Not even you.” “I could give you… whatever you want” he says, his authoritative voice shaking, rattling with his labored breath in the freezing cold air.

“No” says the colonel “I’ve… lost too many people, in too many wars. You can’t bring them back to me, alive and young and whole again.” “You want money” asks the veep, hardly able to think now, hardly able to follow what the other man is saying. “Everyone wants money” says Valtos “but… not if it’s stolen, from the poor, you know.”

“I have” says Myerinck “millions… millions of dollars.” Valtos looks at him “you’re starting to fade, Pete. Hang in there, don’t want you to die before… I get a chance to kill you.” The veep tries to focus, tries to think of what else to say or do, but it’s so cold, he just can’t take any more of it. He grabs for the door handle and yanks it open. Valtos swerves the car, and the man falls out onto the hard cold cement of the black freeway.

The colonel slows down, turns off the air and puts the heater on now. Then brings the car to a stop. “Thank God” says Smet “it’s freezing in here.” He gets out and gets into the front seat, rubs his hands in front of the warm air of the vent. Valtos lights up a cigarette and drives away.

Some time later, the secretary of state, Tony Moralez heads into the big office for a meeting with the president. “Tony” the president says “come on in. Terrible thing, about Pete, wasn’t it.” “Tragic.” “Yeah” says Tomkin, “goddamned Al Queida... right here in own back yard.” He shakes his head, then adds “hey, I know you two were never close… but, that’s all in the past now, right.”

“I may not have agreed with everything” says Moralez “but Pete… was a great American. He died… fighting for our values, and our way of life.” Tomkin thinks about that for a moment “that’s good… I like that. Say, you know, I got this speech I gotta do, for the funeral and all… maybe you could jot down a few things, some good stuff like that.”

“Of course” says Moralez “we’re all deeply affected… touched, by this tremendous loss.” “Right. Oh, and check with his wife…” “Ann?” says the secretary. “Yeah, Ann. Get some… personal stuff to throw in, make it… homey, you know. But run it by Fowler (the attorney general) okay, make sure it all checks out, first. I don’t wanna look like an idiot up there on the podium, you know.” “Sure thing” says Moralez.

Tomkin is sure there’s something else, something he’s left out. Then it comes to him. “Oh, by the way… you know, I’m gonna name you as the new vice president.” “It’s a great honor” Moralez says “thank you sir.” “Oh sure. But I was thinking… when all this funeral and memorial business is over, maybe we could get together, head down to Padre Island, and do some fishing.” “I’d like that.” “Yeah” says Tomkin “get outta this darn cold weather for awhile, do us both good.” “Sounds… wonderful” the new vice president tells him.

He leaves the office and walks down the long silent dignified hallways, finally to a side door leading to the outside. A solid young man in brilliant military uniform snaps to attention, opens the door as the former marine general walks through. “Lookin good, soldier” says the veep “keep it up."

Moralez raises his eyes and looks up at the cold sunshine through the clouds and the tranquil blue sky. If that dupe could only win the next election, he thinks… Then figures, hell, they’ll probably rig it anyway. So… after that, Mr. Tomkin probably gonna have a little accident. Fall off his fishing boat or something. Then we can get this country back on track again.