THE GOD PROJECT Books by Stan Lee
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
THE GOD PROJECT Books by Stan Lee Dunn’s Conundrum THE GOD PROJECT STAN LEE BOOKS e characters and events portrayed in this book are ctitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Text copyright © 1990, 2014 Stan Lee All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. ISBN: 1941298427 ISBN-13: 9781941298428 Published by Brash Books, LLC 12120 State Line #253 Leawood, Kansas 66209 www.brash-books.com To Sandra Lucas I THE TROUBLE WITH NOVEMBER 1 NOMINATION here was a burned-out quality to summertime Washington T that Elmer Jessup reveled in; it was the only time he actually felt at home in the place. For one thing, it was empty. Congress wasn’t in session, which was always a plus for the commonwealth. For another, the Democrats were all down in New Orleans at their presidential convention busily knocking each other o . e Republicans were on the way to the coronation of President McKay in San Diego. e President himself was still on his ranch in Arizona, pulling strings and twisting arms and patting backs to be sure he was renominated by popular acclamation. Best of all, it was even too hot and muggy for the tourists. In August, Washington was for connoisseurs of the bleak and the blasted. Which was why Elmer Jessup, Director of Central Intelligence, did something entirely out of character for him. He had his driver stop at the May ower Hotel so he and his aide, Nye, could watch the roll call of the states in the cocktail lounge. ey didn’t go in through the main hotel entrance; it was sub- tler to enter by the cocktail lounge’s own door, which was the kind of calculation that Jessup did on automatic pilot. ey entered the darkened room of brown wood and dark red leather chairs and couches and headed straight for inconspicuousness, a darkened nook with a good sight line to the television set. Washington, D.C., capital of the world, blocks away from the White House, and they had the baseball game on. Jessup waited 3 STAN LEE while Nye bribed the manager. A er the roll call, they could switch it back to that opiate of the people, Boston vs. the New York Yankees. ere was a nice muted feel to the place. ere were uorescents, but they were blunted; they were installed behind thick stained-glass panels. e only other light was from dim spots recessed in the ceil- ing, which seemed to disperse it before it reached the dark rug. Best of all, the air was good; almost as good as the limousine’s. e room was two-thirds empty, and no one seemed to notice the di erence between baseball and politics. He took out his tally sheets. It was almost as though every- thing would go wrong if he personally didn’t watch it, supervise it, stay with it every step of the way; this thing was too important to leave to chance. Nye came back and took his own tallies out, and they sat there contentedly sipping white wine spritzers as the roll call of the states got under way. Jessup didn’t like conventions, but then he didn’t like elec- tions. What? You went around asking Joe Doakes what to do about NATO? e Philippines? e bomb? But he was managing to enjoy this one anyway; it was the quadrennial meeting of the Democrat Suicide Club. He looked at the names supered on the screen—Halliday, Lindstrom, Rottenburg, and Stonewell—and watched California go ecstatically for the governor of New York, Richard Halliday. He winked at Nye; they’d been worried about California. Stonewell could conceivably make trouble in November. He had survived twelve years of the shoot-on-sight politics of North Carolina and, unlike most of the Democrats, had a fol- lowing throughout the South and Southwest. He also had the best campaign organization of any of them. e last candidate Jessup wanted to see running against President McKay was Stonewell. Rottenburg, a Texan, a solid budget-balancing conservative governor who was willing to spend like a drunken sailor on farm 4 THE GOD PROJECT programs, might be a threat. Rottenburg had the second-best political organization among the Democrats as well as eight chil- dren, which took care of abortion and prayer in the schoolroom; it was entirely possible that he could pick up the fundamentalists, which McKay would badly need. e problem was that McKay had too many problems. An even worse corruption record than Reagan, and he had managed to do it in only four years; a noticeable fraction of McKay’s politi- cal cohort was sitting out the election year in various federal cor- rectional facilities around the country. Plus his former Secretary of State had turned out to be gay. Plus the worst unemployment since the thirties depression. Plus an in ation rate that was run- ning at 9.5 percent annually. Going up against a morally impec- cable Rottenburg would be chancy. en there was Lindstrom. An imponderable. Lindstrom was a pussycat from Ohio who in eighteen years in the Senate hadn’t made a single enemy; in a low-turnout election, he conceivably could squeak past McKay and win it. Only Halliday would be a sure loser in November, and according to Jessup’s intelligence, it was going to go all the way to Wyoming before Halliday won the nomination by an eyelash. He sat there happily checking o states, his numbers, so far, correct to the last half-delegate. Jessup’s sixty- ve-year-old pulse was beginning to make itself felt. Twenty years of mayhem in the CIA had not blunted his ability to get excited, to be on tippy-toes when great a airs were hanging in the balance. In fact, getting excited was his genius. He thought of it as his ability to be revirgined, to be able to go into anything as though it had never happened before, quivering with anticipation spiced with a little dread. “He’ll be the biggest beauty since Adlai Stevenson,” Jessup said to Nye. “He’ll talk over everyone’s head and he’ll win three states.” Illinois went for Halliday. “If I were religious,” Nye replied, “I’d say, ‘ ank the Lord.’ Maybe I should anyway; it couldn’t hurt.” 5 STAN LEE “ e Lord had nothing to do with it,” Jessup said, having managed to bribe the key members of the Illinois delegation into supporting Halliday. At least they’d come cheap; he had gotten nine of them for under a hundred thousand dollars. It always astonished Jessup how cheaply the typical politician sold himself. “I hate to admit it, but it’s looking good,” Jessup said, showing a narrow slit of teeth that wasn’t so much a smile as a simulation of a smile, or maybe a rough dra of a smile, a tentative, exploratory stab at some kind of nonhostile muscular alignment in the general area of the mouth. Everything was going as predicted. He ordered a rare second drink, but as he looked toward the waiter he spotted Anatoly Malenki half a dozen tables away. Malenki was o cially the Second Secretary at the Soviet Embassy but was undoubtedly KGB. Jessup considered him to be the slimiest man in America. Malenki and another Russian had tally sheets out too. Malenki looked over and smiled weakly. Jessup nodded a tenth of an inch. Malenki had only just nished bribing the manager to switch the TV to the Democratic Convention when he’d spotted the most evil man in Washington strolling into the lounge. One of his eyebrows had gone up, an uncharacteristic display of emotion for him. e one time in months when he’d decided to go out— because there was no one le in either Moscow or Washington who could make trouble for him—and the Director of Central Intelligence strolls in. Out on the town? Drinking? Elmer Jessup? Malenki was an unusual Russian. He had been born in Kiev, but his parents had immigrated to Brooklyn when he was six months old. He was eighteen years old when they had emigrated back to the Soviet Union. It meant that Malenki could not only talk like an American, he could think like one. Malenki tore his eyes away from the Director of Central Intelligence and went back to his tallies. ere hadn’t been any surprises, except maybe Illinois, which, some thought, might have gone to Lindstrom but had, unexpectedly, voted solidly 6 THE GOD PROJECT for Halliday. Halliday was behind at the moment, but New York had passed, and he was going to get all 212 of their votes. It was depressing. If Halliday got the Democratic nomination, he would assuredly lose in November and they’d have four more years of the conservative fanatic McKay. e problem traced all the way back to Harry Truman. Truman and Eisenhower, actually. eir idea was to make arms o ers that seemed the height of sweet reasonableness to the American public but which invariably contained a joker clause so disadvantageous to the Russians that a “Nyet” was guaran- teed. e U.S. establishment had become infatuated with nuclear weapons from the moment of the trinity explosion and didn’t want to give them up.