Political Science 101

Chapter Six

SHE GLANCED over and rolled her eyes. "Don't you think the sunglasses are just a little cliché and a whole-lot unsafe?" the woman said to her companion, the man driving his black Ford Explorer. He looked at her, then back at the road. "It's like 2AM. Would you please take the sunglasses off?" She gave him a condescending glare. "Just because we're spying on someone doesn't mean we have to try to look the ridiculous part. It's bad enough that we're driving a black car.

"Fine," the man said, quickly removing his sunglasses without regard for their condition. The man's large frame and pudgy face created a silhouette beside the woman that appeared ominous; but she knew him well — and she was paying him well. They drove silently for several minutes.

"What do you think they talked about?" the woman asked, somewhat rhetorically.

"Who knows," he said apathetically, "but the important thing is, Doyle went, late at night, to Mitch Bradley's house." He paused. "So you were right. I have no damn idea how you know this shit, but you were right."

The woman smiled menacingly as she contemplated her own greatness in her mind. Of course I was right, she thought to herself.

"But," the man said, "what if they were just two buddies celebrating the win?" His deep voice was casual but deliberate. "Maybe it means nothing."

"No," she replied with a smirk, "Bradley was in on it." She nodded subtly. "And Doyle will work perfectly. The key to Doyle is Bradley. Mitch Bradley could be a political shark if he wanted to, but he doesn't. He's washed-up and spends his time feeling sorry for himself."

The man driving looked over at her, mildly puzzled. "How do you know this shit?" he asked.

"I've read his book," she said arrogantly. "It's important to understand how much you can learn about someone by why at they write and how they write it." She paused. "I know you've read his book too, so you know what I mean."

"Of course I read it," the man said, "but it's just a book about political corruption."

"Wrong," the woman snapped back. "It's a book about how he sees political corruption. Thus, it's a book which more-or-less outlines his world view. He sees things — little things — things that no one else sees. That's why he could be a problem. I literally used his book as a guide to my whole philosophy. What if he catches on?" She paused, waiting for a sign of comprehension from her companion. He nodded subtly. "So, if we get Ray Doyle into the position I want him in, and Mitch Bradley starts to see what's going on, that could be a very serious problem."

"What makes you think Mitch will even catch on?" the man asked with skepticism in his voice, trying to mask the fact that he thought the woman was overly paranoid.

"Because his book is brilliant."

"So?" The man's skepticism was less hidden.

"Ugh, okay, I'll explain it to you."

"You do that," he replied impatiently.

"Do you like the Beatles?" she asked.

"What?"

"Do — you — like — the — Beatles?" She spoke slowly, as though she was speaking to someone who did not speak fluent English.

"Uh, sure," the man replied, confused and mildly annoyed.

"Okay, I'm going to explain this the best I can to you."

The man looked over at her, a bit annoyed with her emphasis on the words to you, but he also reminded himself that this was a very rich, powerful, and (sometimes) spiteful woman, so being on her bad side was never a wise course of action.

"On The White Album," she began, there's a song called "'Revolution #9.' And they always said if you played it backward, a whole different set of lyrics could be heard. So if you played the words 'Number Nine, Number Nine...' over and over again, they actually said, 'Turn me on, dead man; turn me on dead man,' and that changed the whole song. Get it?"

"So what does this have to do with Mitch Bradley? Did you read his book backward or something?" The man crinkled his eyebrows and squinted, which seemed to rearrange his entire pudgy face.

"No, not technically," the woman answered. "However, it's a book about how the government is corrupt, why it's corrupt, and what is being done behind closed doors. I don't know how he knew all of this, but he was absolutely correct. His book was meant to expose the corruption, but that's not how I'm using it. I'm using it as a how-to manual on how to exploit the corruption already in place within the legislative system. I've been doing this for years, and it's worked like a charm!"

"So," the man said, "why are you just now getting to know Mitch?"

"Because his buddy Ray, who was just elected to the state legislature, will work perfectly for me, if I can get him in on our philosophy, considering our current asset is beginning to waver."

"Our philosophy?"

"My philosophy. Jenkins is starting to stray, so I'm ready for him to be out, and I need to bring someone else in. And Doyle would work perfectly."

"I'll just take your word for it," the man said with audible resignation in his voice. "So, what do you know about Mitch Bradley right now?"

"I only know a little, but I'm about to know more," she said. The woman sat back in the passenger's side seat and stretch herself out a little. She was dressed far too elegantly for 2:00 in the morning; she could have been a late-middle aged advertisement for Prada or Gucci or Coach. Her sleek upper-class appearance fit well with her sleek upper-class attitude. "Just drive," she said. "Tomorrow, the real work begins."