The Labyrinth Campaign (6 page)

“Anything,” Allen beamed.

“We would like WPC to lend us Jack McCarthy as the consumer adviser on Will’s campaign.”

Allen responded, “I’d obviously say yes in a heartbeat, Mr. Hawkins, but that’s really up to Jack.”

Bo turned toward Jack. “What do you say, Jack?”

Jack paused for what seemed like a minute. “I’d be honored, sir.”

S
gt. Maj. Ian McKay sat alone at the one-hundred-year-old bar. In his drunken stupor he stared at the names and dates, some dating back before World War I, carved into the wood. Ian was a mess. He hadn’t eaten or slept since the moment he made the connection that Sen. Will Hawkins, more than likely the next US president, was the same man who had killed his brother in a bar brawl years ago. But he had no idea what to do about it, so he drank.

McKay was in hot water with his superiors. He’d missed training sessions with his unit and meetings with his next in command, and their patience with this highly decorated career soldier was wearing painfully thin. But he couldn’t shake the ghost.

Ian was hell-bent on revenge, but how? He could obviously retire with full pension after his long, distinguished career, but then what? Will Hawkins would be well guarded, and doing harm to Hawkins wouldn’t really solve anything anyway. Ian’s thoughts wandered back to his niece, Lizzie, the daughter of his dead brother, Sean. Sean had never even known his girlfriend, Patricia, was pregnant. And over the years of Lizzie’s life, Ian had fantasized on and off about what he would do to the guy who had stolen her father’s life. Now he had found him.

Lizzie’s life had been hard. Neither Patricia’s family nor the McKays had much money. It was difficult for Patricia to get good work as a single
mother and even more difficult to find a man who wanted an instant family. So Ian took on the role of surrogate father and gave them as much financial support as he could afford on his meager salary.

At that moment, pondering their financial difficulties, everything became crystal clear. Ian decided that the revenge he would extract was financial. He would hit Sen. Will Hawkins where it would hurt him the most: in the wallet. With that, Ian ordered another pint, stared out the window at the gloomy afternoon, and began to develop his plan of blackmail and revenge.

At the same moment, more than three thousand miles away, Jack and Carrie lay in his bed, discussing the future.

“I can’t believe that you’re actually going through with it,” Carrie said, annoyed. “You’re dismantling the best new-business team in the Southwest to work on a political campaign. They must be paying you a ton of money to put your career on hold like this.”

“Actually, they’re not,” Jack responded, “but Allen is subsidizing my salary to keep me as a WPC advocate.”

Carrie scoffed. “Is that even ethical?”

Jack laughed, “Ethical isn’t a word in Allen’s vocabulary. You know that.”

“But what about you, Jack? That’s not your style.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I already cleared it with Will Hawkins, and he thought it was a great idea. Because campaign expenses are made public, he couldn’t pay me more than others on the campaign team, and in his mind, this ensures that I don’t have second thoughts and lose focus over the next year.”

“I still don’t understand, Jack.”

“I’m not sure I do either. But I do know Will Hawkins is passionate about the same things I am. I haven’t been this excited about marketing a product in years. Maybe ever.”

After a few minutes of silence, Carrie asked, “What happens if he loses, Jack? Do you really believe Allen will take you back?”

“I’m not sure. But I’ve rationalized to myself that if I make a good impression on the Hawkins family, win or lose, Allen won’t have much choice.”

Again quiet. It was Jack’s turn to break the silence. “I have to be honest, Carrie. My biggest concern is losing you. Our paths over the next year are going to be quite divergent, and whether I’ve done a good job of communicating it or not, I’ve become quite fond of you.”

“Fond!” Carrie laughed nervously. “Is that the best you can do? I was hoping this was the moment you would profess your undying love for me.”

“I am,” Jack whined. “I’m just not very good at it.”

They both laughed. Then, without warning, the passion each felt toward the other pulled them together in an intense embrace. After what seemed like an eternity, they looked into each other’s eyes and connected in the depths of their souls.

They made love as if they’d never see each other again. When they came back to earth, Jack realized he was running late for his first day as the consumer strategist on the Will Hawkins campaign. He quickly showered, dressed, kissed Carrie on the forehead, and was gone.

Carrie lay there for a while, wondering what was in store for them. Jack was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she had a nagging feeling that his new position was not necessarily going to be good for them.

J
ack arrived at campaign headquarters at 9:10. The first person he saw as he entered the palatial forty-first floor of the Hawkins Oil Tower was John Rollins, Senator Hawkins’s campaign chief of staff.

“Jesus, McCarthy, it’s your first day on the job and you’re late. I don’t know what type of hours you keep in the advertising business, but this job is 24/7. Now let’s get over to the conference room. The research geeks are giving us an update on where we stand.”

John Rollins stood about 5′6″ in his lifts, and his high-pitched East Texas twang was enough to make anyone’s skin crawl. He also was one of the most successful bankers in Texas, and Jack knew he had a personal and professional relationship with Bo Hawkins that went back twenty-five years. His reputation was what legends were made of. He never took no for an answer, absolutely hated to lose, and never let anything get in the way of achieving his objective. And currently, his objective was getting Will Hawkins elected as the next president of the United States. Jack followed Rollins into the conference room. Around the table sat one of the most formidable campaign teams ever assembled. Jack felt an adrenaline rush, just being part of this group.

Once the introductions were complete, the pollsters began their analysis of the National Opinion Poll. More than a thousand surveys
were conducted weekly to identify a candidate’s current position in the race to become the Democratic candidate as well as his position relative to the current president, Robert F. Hughes. The numbers didn’t lie; Will Hawkins’s awareness and preference ratings were increasing, but at a snail’s pace.

“If this trend continues,” Doug Evans, the campaign’s research director said, “we’ll have to double our advertising budget just to have a prayer.”

The room was silent. No one had expected it to be this difficult.

“Thank you for such an uplifting analysis of the numbers, Mr. Evans,” John Rollins said. “You can be seated now.”

Then Rollins proceeded to attack every person in the room. He started with Steve Bess, the campaign’s assistant chief of staff and Rollins’s right-hand man for the past fifteen years. He saved Jack for last.

“Well, Mr. McCarthy, I’m glad you could make it this morning. You were ten minutes late on your first day, and you’re four weeks late for why we hired you. Where the fuck is this consumer expertise we were promised? We need results, and as all of you have probably noticed, we don’t have them. Now, I’m going to leave before I get really pissed. But before this day is done, I expect a plan from each of you on how we’re going to accelerate the national popularity of Senator Hawkins.”

Rollins then spun on his heel, stormed out the door, and slammed it behind him.

The room was eerily silent. Steve Bess spoke first. “All right, people, you know the drill. Doug, need your thoughts on the regional skew of the numbers. Chris, rerun the budget numbers and give me a 10 percent increase in our TV media budget. Kim, update the status on volunteer recruitment. Lie if you have to; I need increases. The rest of you get back to work. Jack, you come with me.”

When Jack and Steve entered Bess’s office, Steve quickly shut the door behind them. “Well, Jack,” Steve said, chuckling, “how’re you enjoying the new job?”

Jack took a deep breath. “Holy shit, that guy’s a maniac.”

“Yeah, he is,” Steve replied, “and I should know. I’ve been working with him for fifteen years. But don’t take it personally; that’s his definition of motivation. And you know what? It works on most people.”

“But that bullshit about me being four weeks late! I didn’t set the start date; that was Bo Hawkins’s call.”

“I know that, Jack. Rollins knows it too. He’s just giving you a little kick-start by sticking his boot right up your ass.” Both men laughed.

“Listen, Jack,” Bess continued, “John Rollins is a winner, whether you like his methods or not. We both worked on Will Hawkins’s senate campaign and were rewarded by getting to keep the Hawkins account at Metroplex Bank. Now we’re in the Super Bowl, and John Rollins will not accept the possibility of losing. He’s Ross Perot, Vince Lombardi, and Attila the Hun all rolled into one. But he’s manageable if you know the buttons to push, and I do. So stick close by me until you get more comfortable. Now, I’ve got a shitload to get done today, but let’s get a drink after work, and we can discuss next steps regarding your consumer strategy.”

Jack agreed and left Steve Bess’s office knowing he’d just made a new friend. And just as importantly, he’d identified the ally that would help him navigate the waters of this shark tank they called a campaign.

J
ohn Rollins and Will Hawkins sat in silence across the large coffee table from each other. Will Hawkins’s spacious downtown office had become the unofficial campaign war room where many of the real strategic decisions of the campaign were made. On this beautiful fall afternoon, they were discussing the various polls that indicated Will’s popularity was not climbing quickly enough.

Rollins broke the silence with a pitch in his voice that was higher than normal. “I’ve asked Steve Bess to revisit many of the key components of the campaign and have recommendations to me by end of day. But that’s not going to be enough. We need a giant boost. We need to announce the alliance with The Future State Foundation. We need David Ellis to go to the media and announce his support for the Will Hawkins campaign for president. It needs to be one of those fiery, passionate speeches that motivates the masses and makes the girls swoon. We can use all the female voters we can get.”

“I agree,” Will said, “but even that might not be enough. We have to do something big. Something that will catapult us to the front of the pack.”

“Got any bright ideas?”

Will shot him a dirty look and said, “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve been going over this in my mind for days, and I think I’ve come up with a plan.”

“Well, come on, what gives?”

“John, whatever is said in this office is strictly confidential, right?” “Of course, Will. Our objectives are 100 percent aligned. Now, what’s the idea?”

“I’m not sure where to start, so I’ll go from the very beginning. The genesis of this idea came while I was pondering the weaknesses of President Hughes. I think we all believe I can win the Democratic candidacy. It’s beating Hughes and his fucking impenetrable approval ratings that have us worried.”

“I agree. Go on.”

“So the key to accelerating my poll numbers is to capitalize on a weakness of the president. Now, my key platforms of economy, ecology, and drugs are all relative weaknesses of the current administration. Having any significant impact on the economy or the war on drugs is beyond our control. But people’s ecological concerns offer some interesting opportunities.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Rollins said. “Cleaning up the environment and passing meaningful legislation aimed at industries not in compliance with current environmental acts is every bit as difficult to impact as the other two.”

“I agree,” Will smiled, “but you’re missing the simpler avenue. We don’t focus on fixing the problem. We focus on making it a bigger problem for President Hughes.”

Rollins looked puzzled and for a rare moment was speechless.

Will continued, “A few strategically placed environmental mishaps, and President Hughes has a shitload of bad press on his hands. That, coupled with a few heartfelt and passionate speeches regarding the legacy we are creating for our children and, voilà! Chinks in the presidential armor and arrows in the Will Hawkins quiver. Not to mention a huge motivator for David Ellis to get vocal about Will Hawkins as America’s agent of change.”

Rollins was stunned but intrigued. “But how do you propose we make these incidents happen without you—or should I say us—getting dirty?”

“It’s actually simpler than it sounds,” Will said, smiling. “Did I ever tell you who my college roommate was?”

“No, as a matter of fact, you didn’t.”

“Carlos Pendrill.”

“The Carlos Pendrill? The Mexican financier and drug cartel leader? Jesus, Will, when were you planning on springing this one on me? That type of surprise could really hurt us!”