The Labyrinth Campaign by J. Michael Sweeney

agreement. “There has to be something on this guy. Nobody can be this clean. And if there is something there, I’m just the guy to find it.”
    “Good,” Larson stated emphatically. “Get to work and see what you can find. Let’s meet in a couple of days, and we’ll see what you’ve come up with.”
    “I’m on it.”
    The two men shook hands as the researcher reassured Larson that he would find something.
    After Sterling left, Larson remained in the conference room contemplating this highly frustrating situation. He had accepted this assignment believing that he could generate a meaningful story, regardless of what others at the paper believed. This was his chance to regain the limelight. His name had been out of the journalistic upper echelon for quite some time, and he needed a breakthrough. He knew he couldn’t live on his investigative reputation indefinitely. This was a business of results, and he knew in his heart there was something in Will Hawkins’s past that he could leverage. And once he had it firmly in his grasp, he would request and get a one-on-one interview with Will Hawkins that would change the face of American politics for the new millennium.
    Larson rationalized to himself that his mission involved more than just personal reward. He had never respected Will Hawkins for his politics. Hawkins, in his mind, had gotten to where he was today because of money, and that’s not what the Founding Fathers intended. Being president of the United States was supposed to be about leadership, ideas, and the people, not money and power. Larson realized that there had to be a better candidate out there. That’s why he was determined to rain on the Hawkins parade.

    Jack McCarthy and Steve Bess shook hands inside the front door of Bob’s Steakhouse, a longtime Dallas eatery. After a short wait at the crowded bar surrounded by a throng of Dallas’s elite, they were led to their out-of-the-way table for two.
    The small talk continued for another five minutes until Steve said, “Jack, what’s up? When you invited me to dinner, it sounded important.”
    “It is, Steve. I’m not sure where to start, but I stumbled on some information regarding the campaign, and I’m not sure what to do next.”
    Jack proceeded to recap the entire portion of the conversation he had overheard: the call from Carlos Pendrill; the plan to execute a series of environmental accidents that would taint the current administration and solidify the alliance with David Ellis’s foundation. When Jack had finished his five-minute overview of what he had heard, Steve Bess was silent. It was as if the life had been extracted from his rigid body. When he finally did regain some composure, his reaction was grounded in doubt.
    “Jack, do you know what you’re saying? Are you absolutely sure of what you heard?” Jack remained silent, but his eyes bored in on Bess, reaffirming the validity of his story.
    “Holy shit,” Bess said, shaking his head in shock. “This is the type of information that could create worldwide instability. The political system that much of the world admires and desires, gone in the wink of an eye. Jesus, what in the hell does he think he’s doing? He has to be stopped.”
    “I agree,” Jack said, “but we’ve got to remain calm and take control of the situation. That’s why I called you. So do me a favor and provide that calming influence I was expecting from you.”
    Steve took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head. “You’re right. Nothing has happened yet. We just need to intervene before anything does. Got any thoughts?”
    “Well, as a matter of fact, I do. But to be honest, none of them are very appealing.”
    “Run them by me. We’ve got to start somewhere.”
    “Well, my first thought was to go to the president, but,” Jack started to laugh, “I have a feeling my word against Will Hawkins’s would leave something to be desired.”
    “I agree; we’d both be labeled crackpots before we could