The Frankenstein Candidate by Vinay Kolhatkar

carpet, her face serene in a rapturous victory, her body unashamedly nude—the image in his mind was frozen in the glow of the embers.
    It wasn’t until he was in his car that he decided to check his messages.
    It was a voice he had never heard before.
    “You were warned. You paid no heed to the warnings. But it’s not too late.”
    The second message was the same voice, in a tone more chilling.
    “There are consequences, Gary Allen. All you need to do is stop for a year, otherwise the consequences will be very dire.”
    Goddamn it, the caller knew his name . Gary looked around. There were other cars parked on the street, but as far as he could tell, they were empty. He cruised around, afraid to discover his caller but unable to resist the curiosity. He checked his caller profile. The caller ID was blocked. His pulse was racing. He decided to call Francesca.
    “Hi…Francesca.” His voice shook.
    “Hello, my lover, what’s up?” She sung the words in a Sixties rock melody that matched his trembling.
    “I was just going to ask you whether…”
    “Whether what, darling?”
    Darling! Even Olivia never used that with him anymore. In fact, she had not even used “honey” for how long? He did not remember.
    “Umm. Whether you, whether…”
    “Whether I have a boyfriend?”
    “Yes, do you?”
    “No.”
    “Did you have one before?”
    “Back in Belgium many years ago. Why do you ask?”
    “Is there any chance that he…I mean anyone you know hates you or hates to see us together?” He tried to keep his voice from trembling.
    “No. Did you just see a ghost? You sound scared.”
    “No, no…I’m fine. I’ll call you.” She must have heard his heartbeat on the phone, the beating was so loud.
    He switched the cell off. He did not want her to get upset, and he could not become calm. He restarted his car, but he could still hear his heartbeat above the din of the engine.
    On the drive back, he kept wondering about his choices—telling the police was one, one that almost certainly meant they would question Olivia. No, that’s no good. He could just stop seeing the girl, but he could not tick that box. No, he just wasn’t thinking straight—maybe he got drugged. Perhaps he could just avoid Francesca for a while, a week or two. Maybe some idiot was following him and playing pranks. The prankster would just go away if he laid low for a few weeks. That was it. A few weeks, that’s all he needed. And the next time his phone rang, he was going to answer it.

 

14
Threading Cleopatra’s Needle
    For a candidate who had just handsomely won the first leg of his presidential campaign, Quentin Kirby was not happy. He and his staffers had tried, without success, to get Frank Stein to meet with him. Stein had insisted on knowing what the agenda was before agreeing to a meeting. Then he had announced his candidacy a few days earlier than they had anticipated, which negated their ability to stop Stein from making a bid altogether. Finally, when Kevin Heller had suggested a meeting “to discuss what Stein could add to Kirby’s campaign to mutual benefit,” Stein had laughed off the request and asked him to tell Kirby that he should not bother. It was bad enough that Stein had the gall to refuse a meeting with the vice president of the United States, but what happened after that was much worse.
    Not in their wildest dreams had they expected the sort of interview he had given at the Net Station. Once that was out, just about no one could keep quiet. Politicians, economists, journalists, television reporters, radio hosts, and television show hosts all pounced, and most were brutally scathing of Stein. Even Wall Street’s private equity investors and hedge funds, Stein’s own brethren, were shaking their heads.
    The Washington Day Monitor called it “the most scandalous political campaign of our times” The Chicago Sun-Tribune said “It is time that independent candidates are disallowed from standing for president