Andy Crossfield's Blog

One of my favorite scenes in my book:

After it became apparent his call had ended, Megan got up and stuck her head in his office. "Jack Colder, the author, is here for his one o’clock" she said.

Max looked up and gave her his 'I’m swamped' look and ended with a facial plea for her to make Jack go away.
She rejected the idea by staring hard at her harried boss, then said: "Look on the bright side Max, it’s not politics!" Then Megan gave him a big smile and waited for him to melt.

Max slumped at the thought. "You’ve been around here too long to believe in such nonsense Megan! Anyone who walks through that door has an agenda and you know it!"
"Come on, it’ll be fun!" she said as she turned and motioned for Jack to enter.
"Senator Deason," Megan said, "may I introduce Jack Colder."

Max rose and motioned Jack to the seat in front of his desk while extending his hand. "Well, I can’t claim to have read all your books, but my wife likes 'em." he said with a slight accent Jack couldn’t quite place. "Course, she has more free time than I do." A flash of regret crossed Max’s face.

"I understand you want some background for your next book. Well, let me say right now though, I don’t think my life is interesting enough to compel anyone to turn the page, much less buy the damn thing!"

"Thanks for seeing me Senator, although I think you’re selling yourself short." Jack said as he shifted in his seat, sizing up the senator and looking for an opening.

"Well, what the hell kind of senator would I be if I did that?" Max said with a grin that oddly didn’t match the serious look in his eyes. "I’ve got a busy day ahead of me Mr. Colder, let’s get to it, what sorts of things do you want to know about?"

"Well," Jack said searching for the right way to ask the question. He must have come up with a dozen ways to broach the subject, but now they had all escaped him. "Let’s see, you’re on the Armed Services Committee, right?"

"Yes," the senator said.

Jack could almost see his eyes glaze over at the first question. Max was quickly getting distracted by the tall correspondence pile on his desk.

"How much power does that position afford you?"

"Power?" The word clearly got the senator’s attention.

"Yes, power." Jack pushed ahead. "For example, could it be enough to get an Air Force base commander to cover up a murder, or even several murders?"

"What kinda book you writing there son?" Max said with the thinnest of smiles and a cold glare.

"Fiction," Jack shot back with a serious look of his own.

"Well I dare say it is Mr. Colder. There’s no position in Washington powerful enough to get something like that done."

"You’re also the committee lead pushing the Rebuild America Bill, right?"

"What of it?" the senator’s tone had become wary and his eyes began to dance around the room.

"Well, the key to the success of the program is to use cheap inmate labor, correct?"

"That is one aspect, yes, along with massive job creation for everybody from construction crews to consultants and engineers… the real benefit is America upgrades her sagging infrastructure, you understand."

"Okay," Jack said as he let Max’s canned description pass.
"I’m just brainstorming here, all right… but how about this for a plot." Jack continued.

"A CEO of a prison company 'convinces' a senator to push a program through Congress that uses their inmates to rebuild the crumbling infrastructure around the country. This company has prisons in every state and is looking for more revenue. A government contract would be a Godsend. The public goes along because everyone knows prisoners are just sitting back watching Oprah all day and living off the taxpayer–
"Everything’s a go until the CEO discovers they won’t make a dime on what they receive in the contract terms, and he panics." Jack took a sip of his coffee to give his story time to sink in. He watched as Max squirmed just a bit in his chair.

"Then he gets a wild idea. If he can reduce his cost, he can still turn a profit… but how?

Then he remembers an old friend in Chicago that works as a geneticist. He pays him to develop a modified virus that will make his prisoners work longer on less food."

Max held up a hand and interrupted Jack’s rhythm. "Wow, that’s fantastic!" he said in a mocking tone. "I’ll be the first one to buy it when it hits Amazon!" Max seemed to struggle to keep his thin smile from turning serious.

"Mr. Colder, you didn’t come here to try out plots with me, did you?"

"No, Senator, I didn’t. I came to offer you a way out of the conspiracy you’ve gotten involved in."

Max leaned back in his chair and laughed out loud. "Are we still talking fiction here? Cause it sure sounds like it!"

Jack stood and leaned over the large colonial desk and spoke in a low deliberate voice. "Senator, I’m not sure just what kind of leverage has been used to make you break about a dozen federal laws already, but I know who has their thumb on you."

Max leaned in to meet Jack; his tone had turned cold and combative.
"Is that an accusation, Mr. Colder?"

"No Senator, that would be a crime… I’m dealing in facts."

"And just what fictional character have you dreamed up to exert this high level pressure on me?"

"A man named William Downs."

Max could freeze his smile in place but he couldn't keep his complexion from going ashen. The blood drained from his face at the mention of the name.

Jack opened his briefcase and put an envelope on his desk. He was circling his opponent like a fighter that had just found a weakness.

"What’s that?" Max asked trying to regain his composure.

"Photos of bodies partially buried in the desert, whose existence were covered up by the Air Force."
Score it a direct hit to the solar plexus, Jack thought.

Max continued staring at the envelope and wondered just how incriminating they could be.

Jack had him on the ropes. Time for the KO punch.
"Did you know Hank Caswell is dead?
Max bit his lip hard to conceal his surprise that Jack could know such a thing, but could only muster a weak and unconvincing "Who?"

"The man I mentioned earlier, the CEO of ReformCo? He’s dead. A few nights ago. Perhaps murdered during a stay at the hospital. Whoever did it also killed the hospital’s security guard, a father of three. Collateral damage I suppose."

"I don’t know any Carswell person," said Max, more convincingly this time.

"Well the fact remains he knew you… enough to take your calls on his private line." Jack’s heart was racing now, and he was sensing the fight was just about over. So what if that last part was an educated guess, Max had to be pushed to do what was right, and this moment was Jack’s only opportunity.

"Mr. Colder, you are making baseless allegations against a sitting United States Senator. I would think very seriously before you make another one if I were you. The consequences could be disastrous for you and your career."

"Senator, if you are thinking that I in some way seek to profit from the circumstances you find yourself in, I assure you, you are wrong. I only hope to convince you of the fact that you, like Hank Caswell, are in danger if your usefulness to William Downs becomes too, shall we say, entangled?" Jack sat back in his seat and allowed his words to penetrate.

He reached into his case again and pulled out the diabetic kit and retrieved a small refrigerated vial and syringe and placed it on Max’s desk. "As I said earlier, I’m here to offer you a way out."

Max could not take his eyes off the vial, and they grew large at the prospect of what Jack could possibly mean by a way out. Could he mean suicide?

Finally Max looked up and glared at Jack. His eyes darted from the vial to Jack and back again, trying to size up his motives. He had been right earlier. Everyone that walked though that door wanted something. How could he believe him when he said he was only there to help? Preposterous. Everyone had their list of wants and their price. Jack Colder was no different. He might not be a politician, but he sure played the game like one.

As I said, this is one of my favorite parts, and you just will never guess how this meeting ends!