New Historical Fiction Premiering On Steemit - Common Interests: A 9/11 Novel - Chapter 15
Historical fiction surrounding the crimes of 9/11. In this chapter, our mysterious deep state soldier pays a visit to some unwilling accomplices.
Above image courtesy of pixabay
This is a fictional narrative wrapped around the real crimes of the September 11, 2001 attacks and the 2008 financial crisis. A smattering of other real events, institutions, entities, and people have also been included.
Chapter 15
Washington DC
April 1996
“Good evening, Bob,” said the muscular stranger. Bob Livingston grabbed his chest and shook so hard his glasses fell from his thin face. The stranger hopped up from Bob’s dark brown leather sofa and offered, “Here, let me get those for you, Bob.”
The steely specimen slung himself into a crouching position in one swift motion and retrieved the fallen spectacles.
Upon grabbing the spectacles from the intruder, Bob asked, “Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my house?”
The black ops vet standing in his living room answered smugly, “You have a lovely home, Bob. I’m here to help you keep it that way.”
The uninvited guest spotted a crystal bottle of booze sitting on a mahogany table across the room and requested firmly, “Hey Bob, is that scotch? Are you a scotch man?” Bob nodded.
“Let’s have a drink, Bob, do you mind?”
Bob shook his head no. The stranger poured a couple of generous drinks and handed one to his shocked host. The muscular intruder asked, “What should we toast to?” Congressman Bob Livingston just stared at his sculpted captor. What could he do? He was home alone and the guy standing next to him could break his neck faster than you can spell corruption.
The uninvited guest smiled confidently and said, “We’ll drink to world peace. That’s a good one, right Bob?”
Bob stood motionless and expressionless. The stranger burst into uncontrolled fits of laughter. It took a certain psychological profile to do what this agent of chaos did, and he was lapping up every minute of his encounter with Congressman Livingston. They did an uneasy clink of glasses and took a healthy swig.
“Mmmm, that’s good stuff. You have impeccable taste in scotch, Bob. Anyway, I suppose you’re wondering what this is all about. The first thing I’ll tell you is that you need to relax. I’m not going to kill you.” He paused. “Or torture you, for that matter.” Bob gulped.
The fleet footed guest zipped across the room and grabbed a large envelope off of the coffee table. He pulled out a couple of photos and a disc. He held one of the photos up prominently so his host could have a good look. Livingston turned powder white. The stranger started cackling again. “You should see the look on your face, holy shit! You’ve never seen a picture of yourself having sex before, Bob? She looks very tasteful, someone your wife could grow to love.”
Bob’s heart rate doubled. He got chills and cold sweats. He wanted to die. The cackling intruder flung the disc at Bob’s chest and hit a bullseye.
“If you like the still shots, Bob, then you’ll love the quality of that video. I know I did.” More outrageous fits of demonic chuckles.
Mr. Livingston started hyperventilating and babbling incoherently, “How did you….Who…..What the fuck?”
The stranger swaggered over to Bob and put his arm around him. “Now don’t you worry, Congressman Bob Livingston. Everything is gonna be just fine. All you have to do is follow the rules and this will stay our little secret, ok?”
Bob gulped again and finished his whiskey. “I’ll do anything, please. Just tell me what I have to do. Please.”
The stranger smiled gleefully and tugged the frail Livingston closer to him, nearly in a headlock. “Don’t you worry, Bob, I know. That’s why I’m here.” He handed Bob the envelope, “Go ahead, open it. Take a look.”
Bob grabbed the envelope slowly and rustled out one of the pages inside. He glanced over it briefly. It was a list of rosy sounding yet vague organizations. Confused, Bob asked, “What is all this? Benevolence International, Alliance For Shared Values, Friends of Azerbaijan, Center For Democratic Progress? What the hell? I don’t get it.”
The cat-like stranger grinned, “Those are all organizations which need help from the American people. You’re a friend of the American people, I know that for sure, Bob. I also know that you’re the Chair of the House Appropriations Committee. And that, right there, in your hand, is a list of organizations that will receive very generous aid packages from your little committee. Do we have an understanding, Bob Livingston?”
He stared at Bob coldly with a stiff jaw. Bob’s mouth was gaping open. He took a deep breath and said, “Look, just because I’m the chair doesn’t mean that I control”
The stranger cut him off loudly, “Find a way! We trust you, Bob, and trust me, you’ll be greatly rewarded for your efforts.” “We?” crossed Livingston’s mind. Who the fuck was “we”?
“Do we have an understanding?”
Congressman Bob Livingston pursed his lips out thoughtfully and nodded slowly. “Yes,” he relented, “we have an understanding.”
The stranger patted Livingston on the back, “That’s great Bob. I’ll show myself out. Don’t worry, we’ll be in touch.”
2 days later
The Hamptons
Epstein took a tipsy step into his mansion. His red face turned a shade brighter when he saw some unexpected house guests waiting for him in his designer leather chairs. Shock turned to confusion as he recognized the two unannounced companions. With a boozy giggle Jeff slurred, “Hey, George, hey Peter. How the hell did you get in here?”
Before they could answer, he spotted a big fat shiny black eye protruding in epic fashion from the face of Peter Soros. “What the fuck happened to you, Pete?” George Soros threw a disc at Epstein with his old, fat, crusty fingers and popped him in the chest. George raged as his fierce eyes blazed. “What the fuck did you do to my nephew, you arrogant prick?”
Jeff didn’t know what to say. Was this old man for real? He shook his head in disbelief as he took a seat across from the pair. “George, I don’t get it. You wanna fill me in here, somebody? Pete, what happened to your eye? And you still didn’t tell me how the fuck you got in here, or why, for that matter.”
“We got an unwanted visitor who brought us here,” George answered with indignation. “He gave us this disc and some instructions, some very costly instructions, I might add.”
Peter continued with his speechless sobbing. George continued his angry demon look. Jeff’s buzz was starting to wear off. “What visitor?” Jeff asked as he narrowed his boozy eyes. “Is there someone else here?”
“No,” Peter said meekly. “He let us in here and disappeared.”
“His instructions were very detailed,” George said.
Jeff held his hand up and spoke nervously, “Now, wait a minute, what’s on that disc you just assaulted me with?”
George started to growl. Peter held out a prohibitive hand of mercy. George stopped growling and said, “There’s video on there of you two engaged in acts which most in this world would consider to be lewd, at best. Criminal, at worst.”
Jeff looked confused. The booze kept him from connecting the dots quickly.
George shouted, “We’re being blackmailed, you sick fuck! You two clowns are going to cost us a fortune. And why? So you can get your rocks off with some shot-out little girls from god knows where.”
Jeff clutched his chest. His mind was racing and he started to sweat. How could this be? It was a private plane! Who the hell had access? This was impossible! He took a deep breath and said, “Ok, lemme get this straight. Some guy kidnaps you, gives you a video disc of one of my private parties, then ditches you here and gives you payoff instructions?”
Peter nodded slowly as he dabbed his eye with a cold cloth. Jeff continued, “So how much, who do we have to pay, and when? George looked at him coldly and replied, “Unspecified amounts to a list of accounts over an unspecified length of time. They’ll give us details later.”
A wave of incredulity washed over Jeff from gray hair to designer shoes. “So we’re being blackmailed perpetually.”
Another sad affirmation from Peter. George handed a crispy page to lobster-faced Jeff. He scanned it quickly and gave the elder Soros a quizzical look. “All of these organizations? What the hell is Benevolence International? And all of them have accounts in Cyprus?”
A cold slice of silence gave the answer. George broke the silence with a grizzly huff and said, “We were told to await further instructions. He said he’ll be in touch.”
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