Hulagu's Web The Presidential Pursuit of Katherine Laforge Read online

  HULAGU’S WEB

  The Presidential Pursuit of Senator Katherine Laforge

  By

  David J. Hearne

  HULAGU’S WEB

  The Presidential Pursuit of Senator Katherine Laforge

  Copyright © 2008 by David J. Hearne

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced

  or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  Published by Subterfuge Publishing

  PO Box 8008

  Lumberton, Texas 77657

  www.subterfugepublishing.com

  Cover Design by:

  Angela Farley

  www.hulagusweb.com

  ISBN 9780975597699

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2008910963

  Printed in the United States of America

  To my wife Stacie for her support, tolerance and love.

  Acknowledgments

  Numerous people played a role in the writing of Hulagu’s Web, directly or indirectly. On the political horizon, I must acknowledge Ron Paul for his courage of seeking true political change and Nick Lampson for trying to melt party lines and actually represent his constituents. All the military men and women who put their life on the line so the rest of us can take life for granted. I salute you, and hope my portrayal of your life in Iraq does you justice.

  I am grateful to Ben Lee who provided a great deal of editorial support, research, and creative ideas to help with the completion of this book.

  I would also like to acknowledge Mark and Jennifer Wulf, Pamela Truax, my wife, and Carol Crosby who helped edit the manuscript.

  I want to thank Danny Lantrip, Keith Reese and the Sundancer crew from Houston, Mississippi. They introduced me to solar car racing and were the champions of the Dell-Winston Solar Car Challenge.

  Among the many I should acknowledge are those true pioneers in the new era of renewable energy. Innovators like Kris Delorme of Turtle Mountain Community College, Gwen Holdmann for her research in Absorption chilling, Michael Briggs University of New Hampshire and expert in production of biodiesel from algae, Cliff Etheredge and David Etheredge Roscoe Wind Council, Judy Treichel- Executive Director of the NV Nuclear Waste Task Force, Glen Kertz president and CEO of Valcent Products, Kent Batman - President of Hardin Fuels Inc..

  Finally I need to recognize those associates and friends of mine who inspired me or kept me going: Robert Verde, Art Williams, Jannie Venter, Mayank Vadher, Chris Kyle, Joel Russell, Jason Huebel, Representative Mike Hamilton, and again my good friend Mark Wulf.

  PART ONE

  New Hampshire Primary 2004

  As the Chief squinted through the swirling snow, the large bus emerged from the gloom of that dark January morning. It sat quietly on the wrong side of Route 12 stalled in the snow bank. The steam from its cooling engine merged with the falling snow to darken the night even more. The tires on the exit side were shredded, and the large bus rested on its rims, causing it to lean precariously toward the road. Narrow beams of light streamed out of the bullet holes on the exit side of the bus, spotlighting the flakes of falling snow and the eerie, deserted road. The bus’s still blazing headlights illuminated the snowdrifts and a bloody body, which was shrouded in a thin layer of glistening snow. As Chief Richardson moved closer to the bus, he could hear moans coming from inside the vehicle and smell the acrid odor of cordite. On the cold steps of the bus, his flashlight revealed a frozen patch of red slush and small red icicles that had formed from the blood dripping down the steps.

  The memory of January 25 is indelibly etched deep in my mind. Even before the inevitable blare of the alarm went off that morning, I lay there in that state of half sleep and half awake, enjoying the warmth of the bed and my wife nestled close to me. I only had a scant four hours of sleep, and I wanted to savor every second of it. The wafting aroma of fresh coffee was an ominous sign that my last seconds of sleep were few before the alarm would come alive. I grabbed the top of the blankets and pulled them up to my cold nose just as WKNE FM invaded the quietness of the morning by blasting out the morning news. I opened an eye and glimpsed out into the still dark morning. All night long the howling wind had swept over the house, swirling the snow up through the branches of the pine tree outside my bedroom window. Little swirls of fresh snowflakes still danced about on my frozen windowpanes as the wind painted the snow over the town. The glowing red numbers on the radio read five A.M., which gave me about an hour to shave, shower, dress and eat before I was due at Charlestown’s town hall. I fought back that powerful temptation to just lay there bathed in the warmth of my wife’s body snuggled warmly against me, but somehow found the strength to toss off the heavy blankets. I felt the chilly air hit my naked body and shivered as Stacie instinctively grabbed the blankets, and without opening her eyes pulled them tightly around her body. It was then that the WKNE announcer’s voice penetrated my consciousness, and his words shocked me into full reality.

  “Police at the scene confirm that Presidential candidate Senator Katherine Laforge’s campaign bus was involved in a serious accident. The accident, three miles north of Walpole, NH on route 12 appears to be the result of an assassination attempt on Senator Laforge. At least four members of her campaign staff are reported dead. The condition of the Senator is not currently known. The Senator was on her way to Charlestown, NH to reveal her Iraq Reconstruction Plan at a 7 A.M. televised Town hall forum. If the reports are accurate, then this will be one more in a series of assassination attempts against Senator Laforge in the last two years. Stay tuned to 103.7 FM for the latest developments on this late breaking story.”

  I felt stunned, almost nauseous, as I grasped the gravity of the news. I had just left her company only seven hours earlier. She had invited my wife and me to her campaign bus to celebrate her high standings in the Presidential race, and reminisce about our childhood in Charlestown, NH. Yesterday’s polls had her on top, so the meeting was very upbeat. It just seemed unfathomable that this report could be true. She had been one of my best childhood friends, and I was dumbfounded, but thrilled to hear that she had become a Texas Senator. I had often thought of her and relived the memories of the things we did as kids, but after leaving school, we did not see each other very often.

  Still contemplating the radio news, I walked into the bathroom to shave. I turned on the hot water and just stood there studying my reflection in the mirror, as the mist from the steam slowly erased my image. It was somewhat symbolic of a ghostly face that would inexplicably emerge later that day from the mist of the snow and make me question my sanity. I did not know it then, but this brisk wintry dawn would herald in the final leg of a journey that had started innocently many years ago. Today I would experience life’s madness as the paths I had traveled converged cataclysmically with those of others in life’s vast web.

  It was two years ago in the summer of 2002 that gave birth to this maelstrom that ripped into my life on this cold January morning. It started when I received a letter announcing a class reunion with the special guest of honor being my old classmate Katherine Hanna Laforge, now the honorable Senator Laforge of Texas. I read the letter over a couple of times and vowed to attend the event. I had never been to a class reunion, nor had I seen hardly any of my former classmates, since I marched down the aisle to Elgar’s pomp and circumstance clad in cap and gown.

  The last twenty years I had worked as a Project Manager for NARA (National Archives and Records Administration) in Washington D.C. Stacie and I had lived comfortably in a nice house in Oxon Hill, Maryland, about fifteen miles from my office at Capitol Hill.
My job was not an exciting occupation like the life of a CIA or FBI agent, but it was challenging and offered many privileged views of secret decisions and actions taken behind closed government doors. In short, I was a glorified historian of our government’s policies and events. Over the years, my research had accumulated many interesting stories that I parked deep within my memory required by law to keep secretly to myself. Often, these discoveries were quite exciting, making my job very interesting. However, my career came to a screeching halt in the winter of 1999 when I was mugged at a mall. My hospitalization and rehabilitation from the injuries forced me to take an early retirement from my profession. I was left with no major permanent damage except occasional headaches that I manage with medication. We sold our house in Oxon Hill and moved back to Charlestown looking for that peace and security offered by small New England communities. The fact is, I dreaded my retirement. At the same time I accepted it as a positive thing that gave Stacie and me the time to fulfill some of our lifelong dreams.

  Being free to go to this Class Reunion was the first real positive benefit I could contribute to my retirement. I actually looked forward to this event and a month later, July 14, 2002, Stacie, and I were sitting in the Walpole, NH Country club listening to music from the sixties. In front of me were twenty of my former classmates that had metamorphosed from their youthful faces and attractive bodies that I remembered into strangers with caved in cheeks, protruding bellies, sagging breasts and wrinkled faces. I could feel each studying my transformation with the same shock and bewilderment as we all listened to the Shirelles belting out “Mama Said.” But even through this erosion process we all had endured over the years, most of us were still recognizable as the Billy, Judy, Vince, or Steven of yesterday.

  Just attending a class reunion denotes your unspoken acceptance to be judged by your peers in a “living progress report.” The big question on everyone’s mind is where do they stand in the new pecking order of the old class. I knew nothing of their lives, and they likely knew nothing of mine. With the constant wailing of songs from our youth like Roy Orbison’s haunting, but beautiful song “Crying” and the magic of a couple of cocktails, we were soon all telling jokes of our past and reminiscing about those days long gone by. Another drink or two later found each of us inexplicably divulging who, and what we were now and the progress report started to take shape.

  Our class was basically like most others. We had those who had stayed emotionally and intellectually the same, but just aged physically. They still thought Chubby Checker’s “The Twist” was still popular on the radio. And of course, we had those who were financially successful and those who still worked for minimum wage. There were those who changed in ways we never would have fathomed, and then those like Senator Laforge who reached the top of the mountain we all once had sworn to climb. She was the shimmering star for our class, and it seemed very bizarre to refer to her as Senator. She was really Kat to all of us, and her position in the real world made us feel a bit uncomfortable when talking with her.

  As a kid, she had lived next door to me, and we had played together every day. She was the ultimate tomboy then and played only with us boys. She played army men, cowboys and Indians, went camping with us, handled frogs and snakes, and was basically my best friend. But then Mother Nature started changing Kat, and suddenly we were not allowed to play the same with her any longer. Now my best friend used makeup, perfume and dressed in the latest skirts or dresses. Her parents started involving her in more traditional women activities, and our friendship quickly changed. Older boys started to take notice of her, and it was hard for us to be around her without angering her latest suitors. In high school I asked her out on a date, but felt so awkward trying to be romantic that I never asked again. I think she was equally uncomfortable dating her old frog catching buddy, and was glad I gave up so quickly. We remained friends and she shared with me every detail of her life, including her most intimate dating adventures. As a senior she was probably the prettiest girl in class, and, of course, very popular with the guys. However, none of our classmates got to date her because she started going steady with a boy from college. Even though we were all a bit jealous, we did think that was really cool. For her it was probably very good, because she was able to stay focused on schoolwork and still be considered “very in” to all of us. We would all study together, and some weekends she would enlist me to drive her to Dartmouth to visit her boyfriend. Just as high school graduation rolled around, her senior romance fizzled. I don’t think she really cared, as she was off to Stanford University. While in college, we corresponded back and forth for a few months, but the letters became less frequent and then virtually stopped. Regardless, my interest in Kat continued, and over the years I eagerly followed her political ascension, watching in awe, as my childhood friend became Senator Laforge. Often, I found myself excitingly watching C-Span and other news programs, just to catch a glimpse of Kat debating world issues with other political leaders. The infrequent letters I occasionally did receive from her, always excited me and became treasured mementoes.

  Kat was still very attractive after all these years, and I had my suspicions that a bit of her beauty and youth had been augmented by modern medical advances. She was definitely the most stunning woman at our reunion. She lost no time mingling with us and playing politics. Kat told us how glad she was to be here among her old friends. She spoke of how often she had thought of us and how homesick she had been for Charlestown and the Monadnock Valley. Her sentiments did not appear that genuine since Kat had not seen most of us for over a quarter of a century. My relationship with her was different because we occasionally did meet since we both worked in Washington. Regardless, we all were genuinely glad to see her again and to all be together. Our entire class would have been labeled by most as a bit dysfunctional, because few of us seemed to keep in contact with one another.

  Tonight we were all searching for those nostalgic magic moments of long past. For most of us there was really nothing significant that had happened between the time we were celebrating and this moment we were now sharing. One thing we all agreed upon was that Senator Laforge was now legitimately rich, famous and powerful, and to the utter disbelief of most of us, was also hinting at running for President of the United States. She was one of us, so her success felt like something we all could celebrate. The funny thing about Kat was that she never tried to be popular, but was anyway. She showed traits of a politician in high school by being that individual who could be friends with those of the “In Crowd”, and then with those students who others ostracized. She was always studious and was voted at graduation as the “Most likely to be a librarian.”

  Most of the night we all sat around talking and joking in large groups. Finally, four of us, Senator Laforge, Tom Hester, Vince Hand and me broke away from the others and reminisced privately of some of our old exploits. We had been a very close group of kids and shared many adventures. We were very proud of what Kat had accomplished and wanted to hear more about life inside the capital beltway. Just as Dee Clark hit one of those unforgettable high notes in his song, “Raindrops”, we commandeered a table in the corner of the banquet room that afforded us some privacy for a few minutes. Kat ordered us all a new round of drinks, and we sat there with the candle flickering shadows across our faces. After a few minutes of raucous banter between all of us, Kat bent over the table and quietly said, “I need to confess that I did not really come here just to reminisce about high school. I came here hoping that I would reconnect with my three best old buddies and charm you into wanting to rekindle our friendships. I am drastically short of people I can talk to and trust in my life. And I really need some trusted confidents in my inner circle that are not influenced by party hacks or political job pressures.”

  I think we were all surprised with her candor. “You want to employ us?” I asked.

  You could see Kat’s smile and her eyes twinkle in the candle’s light. “No, not quite, at least not openly. I just want us to be fr
iends like we once were, when I knew you guys would welcome my calls anytime day or night. Running for President is going to be a lonely, confusing harsh time for me, and like I said before, I need trusted friends I can talk to and confide in. Of course, I have my wonderful husband Ira whom I love and share most everything with, but he is afraid of being candid with me about my views and the realities of what I am involved in. I need trusted friends like you that I can divulge things to and know that it goes no further. Having politically untainted friends in my corner is very important to the success of my Presidential run and for my own political protection.” She paused and took a sip of her daiquiri and then continued, “You will probably read a lot about me in the next few months, some good and some bad. I need to warn you that some things that we discuss might even put you in harm’s way. Washington can be an ugly place as I am sure you are aware of. Anyway, I want you to think about what it might mean to your life, your plans, and your privacy in associating with me as I run for President. Hell, you might not even support me at all as a Presidential candidate, and that is certainly understandable after all the mean things I did to you when we were kids.”

  Vince interrupted her by proposing a toast, “To the next President of the US, our old friend Kat.”

  We all drank to that and Tom interjected, “This will be a first for a Kennedy loving head-in-his-ass Democrat like Vince to vote for a Republican President…wow!”

  Kat smiled at Vince. “Ignore Tom’s crassness and thank you, I really appreciated your toast.”

  She sat back and glancing at each of us said, “I don’t want your answers now. I want each of you to think about it for a while. I will call each of you within the next few days to see if you would like to get together to let me talk your ears off about my platform, and how I envision you helping me in this Presidential race. If the thought of this is at all uncomfortable to you, then your answer is easy. It should be a definite “no.” But if I charmed you or interested you at all, I promise you a few exciting months that we all will share together.”