Chapter Three

Mr. Cheney did not like leaks. Politics was a gamble, but during his tenure he had the good fortune of feeling like the casino, and the casino always won. As of late however, it felt as if some players were not respecting the old adage: what happens in big government stays in big government. The media was the litmus test. His team made the most significant progress in history of cowing reporters into submission and giving them only what he wanted to hear on the news. Nixon had tried and failed…too aggressive for the times. Reagan faired better, but he was an actor and the public ate him up like the jelly beans they fed him. That was the “ah-ha!” moment: stop letting news happen and make it happen.

The military found new meaning. You can only let a well-oiled machine sit around for so many years before the lubricators get bored. Even they needed to be greased. Psy-Ops was the best bet they made during W’s reign of tepid, and they doubled-down hard. Some new kids in the CIA with journalist degrees thought it up. Cheney rolled the dice on them and it paid off. CNN, FOX and CBS got “new talent” straight from the complex, and when 9-11 panned out, the media was soooo grateful to have “experts” working “with” them.

Although the latest administration had taken full advantage of his short comings and won the election in a landslide, they agreed to play according to the rules…but now the media was hitting jackpots that didn’t happen when he ran the slots. Someone was double dealing, and with his own investment still on the books, it was time to call in the pit boss. He dialed the old numbers and trusted they still worked.

“This is Karl.”

“Yes it is. Have you been watching the news?”

“I have. I was wondering if we need to talk.”

“I think we do. Are you in Washington?”

“I am.”

“Let’s feed the pigeons.” They met in the park.

“Is it safe?” asked Cheney.

“It is as of now,” replied Karl. “So far, Assange is only interested in ‘current’ leaks. Did you know this is the same guy who broke into the Pentagon computers back in ’86?”

Cheney got goose bumps. Iran-Contras. “I didn’t. You don’t foresee that as a problem?”

“Not yet. His popularity maybe, but that can be compromised. He’s playing Robin Hood. Fortunately for us, he also thinks he’s Casanova.” Karl handed him a profile from OKCupid, an online dating service.

“’I am DANGER, ACHTUNG’? Wow. That’s easy. ‘Left-wing, atheist, and 87 per cent slut’. Saves us some time I guess. Does he do drugs?”

“No prescriptions or illegals. He meditates.”

“Shit.” Cheney’s eye twitched. “I don’t like that kind. They tend to feel right at home in a cell. Any luck on who’s leaking?”

Karl stirred. “Possibly. I’ve been curious about an old colleague of yours…Wheeler. He moved from Poppy’s bio weapons advisor to the Air Force, and then he got Top Secret/SCI clearance with you and W. Did you know he was such a bleeding heart?”

Cheney’s eye twitched again. “Yes, but he’s from the old guard and supposed to be trustworthy. Is there something I should know?”

“It would be better if you didn’t.”

“Hmmm…anyone else?”

“Possibly. Are you familiar with the White House's deputy director of legislative affairs for the U.S. House?

“Dan Turton? Yes, just another Democrat.”

“Who likes to talk a lot…and whose wife was that lobbyist for Congress who now works for Progress Energy.”

“Ashley right?”

“Ashley.” Karl stared at Cheney. “She’s about to head a merger with Duke Energy for $13 billion.”

Cheney looked away. His eye twitched again. “Fuck.”

Karl kept staring. Cheney could see him out of the corner of his eye. He paused for effect. “Do I have permission to kill two birds with one stone?”

Cheney took a big breath. His lungs hitched. “You do.”