The Centipede Who Came in From the Cold Chapter 1

in #politicalfiction8 years ago (edited)

It was a typically hostile February in the capital city amplified by a surprise ice storm, the wind slipping off the potomac like an unwanted guest pushing past your doorway, taking root deep in the cavities and open space of you over coat. It was around 9:30am on the 2nd day of the month, the homeless line standers employed by lobbyist most days had all retired to their corners to drink warmth and forget the next 24 hours. A young man hurries through the empty streets, the snow beginning its ernest attempt at erasing any trace of automobile traffic. His crossing towards the Russel Senate offices coming just about the time that the first road closures were being reported. The lumbering election season grinding to a halt while abandon cars and wrecked transit buses slumber under an icy sheet. His pace quickens to make the last few feet count before hoping that his momentum will take him safely to the top of the icy stone steps. Numb toes guessing their proper role in an awkward dance dull fingers finally grasping the heavy door hardware at the summit.

The furnace like blast of air, the sensation of which was not immediately registered by the features of his face, but as he stripped the ice encrusted outer layers, the pallid skin of his forehead started to match the rosy wind burned skin of his cheeks and nose. Unencumbered by the bulk of his coat and the piercing cold, his taught slender frame stood taller than most. Cobalt eyes set deeply against thick blue black hair, something a bit primeval in the shape of his handsome nordic features. The security desk recognized him explaining that he was one of the few people in the building on account of the storm, a fact that he had been counting on.

“I won’t be long Rick, just have to grab a few files for the Senator, she heads to Wisconsin tomorrow…wasn’t sure I’d be able to make in the morning.” He tells the lone guard. “Take your time Mr. Mance, I’m likely stuck here all night anyway.” He smiles waving him through.

The second floor was dimly lit, elucidating the likelihood that no one had yet come through this morning, and with the storm ensuring that no one else would Jacob Mance breathed a long sigh of relief. The marble floor betraying his presence, tapping lightly in the stillness of the empty space. He had come with purpose, and was calculating a risk that no one could imagine the repercussions of nearly a decade later. The Senator’s office was a cold facsimile of a human space, inhabited for official purposes only but with several tawdry unofficial uses that were not unusual at the Russell. Its most practical purpose was to house information deemed too critical to trust outsides the confines of government security protocol. Functioning as a dead drop of sorts for high ranking campaign staffers and members of the Senator’s general staff.

Jacob’s meticulous plan was a flow chart of possibilities, he could not see the future but he could make sure he had options regardless of how any one piece played out. Pulling this off meant landing his boss the presidency, and a spot for himself by her side. He had no official access to the office safe, but if Jacob was anything he was resourceful. Three months spent researching the Senators inner circle and another six pretending that he was interested in the career path and aspirations of one of the Senator’s closest confidants, her traveling chief of staff. Memories of his ivy league days, the most exhausting part was making sure no one ever saw the negative space that occupied what normal people might call a soul. He removed the contents of the safe, a single thumb drive and a stack of photos. The photographer was likely a security camera with an infrared mode, the pictures all had the same actor. Thumbing through a half dozen gave Jacob the rough idea of what those photos were about. He took a picture of the money shot with his cell phone, the unmistakable visage of the Senator’s husband involved in a rather complicated game of BDSM with an unknown captor.

An image on the thumb drive was what he was here for. He made a copy of the encrypted drive and returned the contents of the safe. He knew the rest of the day would be spent working to crack the drive so he quickly made his exit. The empty streets were a welcome sight, he hoped to avoid anyone else who might recognize him. He slipped along a side street and into the subway, becoming just another anonymous commuter hoping to make it home before the city shuts down.

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I'm reading about markdown to see what sort of styling options I can employ.

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