Trail of Destruction

Chapter 61

Chapter 61

It was the evening of the first scheduled debate between the Democratic and Republican presidential nominees. The stage was lit up with what seemed like hundreds of lights. The cameras were not going to miss a thing. Every bead of sweat, every wrinkle, every nervous tic would be magnified and sent across the air waves to the television audience.

Brad strode across the stage and shook hands with Bob Ellington, the Republican nominee. He offered a few pleasantries and then headed back to his podium. As he looked out over the audience, he could sense their excitement and he felt a surge of adrenalin. This was going to be a piece of cake, he thought. He looked over at the sitting vice-president. The man looked like a basset hound on his last legs. He was twenty years Brad's senior, with yellowing gray hair, a pasty white complexion, and a good thirty pounds of extra flab around his waist.

Brad had heard that Ellington's advisors had been harping at the man to lose some weight and go to a tanning salon, but he obviously hadn't listened. In contrast, Brad knew he looked young and vibrant and the television cameras were going to love him.

It wasn't just in their looks that Brad thought he outmatched his competitor. Ellington was an old-time politician who had been in Congress for thirty years before being asked to serve as vice-president. As far as Brad was concerned, the man represented everything that was wrong with the government. While he was the in the House and then the Senate, Ellington always voted along party lines, never sponsored any significant legislation, and was an easy target for any lobbyist who was willing to make a campaign contribution.

His greatest sin of all, though, was that he was just plain boring. Spending the last eight years attending functions that were too unimportant for the president to bother with had only made the man even less relevant than he had been as a congressman.

Brad was sure that he was better prepared this evening than his lazy counterpart. If all went as planned, tonight's debate would be the final nail in his competitor's coffin. Brad was already ahead by a good ten point margin in the polls, an unheard of lead with only four weeks left until the election. After tonight, he expected that number to leapfrog even higher.

He turned his head to look at the moderator, Jaclyn Harmon, as she banged her gavel to silence the audience and begin the debate. She was a retired political reporter who had spent most of her career at the Washington Post, shattering glass ceilings and serving as a mentor and role model for the women following in her footsteps. Brad listened as she greeted both candidates and gave a quick synopsis of the debate rules. She would read from a list of prepared questions, first covering foreign policy and then moving into domestic issues. The candidates would take turns going first and they would have five minutes to address each issue. Based on an earlier coin toss, the first question would go to Brad.

Although foreign policy had not been his strong suit at the start of the campaign, Brad had attacked it like the A student he had been in school. He had become well educated in his country's current policies, and he had crafted a number of new strategies that he wanted to implement when he took office. So as he waited for his question, he was completely confident that it was one he had considered and was ready to address.

He knew that usually the first topic in a debate tended to be a softball question so that both candidates could get their footing. No doubt the issue would be the threat of Iran's nuclear program or the on-going difficulties in maintaining peaceful, quasi-Democratic governments in Iraq and Afghanistan. He had a prepared response for either.

The moderator turned to address him. "Governor Newcomb, could you please give us your assessment of the primary causes for the unrest in Turkmenistan and what steps you would take to diffuse that situation?"

Brad looked at the moderator and his brain went blank. Where the hell was Turkmenistan? He felt his whole body go clammy, drops of perspiration popping out on his upper lip and forehead. My God, he thought, I'm going to look like Nixon.

He opened his mouth, trying desperately to try to coax his brain to engage, but nothing happened. A full twenty seconds of silence stretched to infinity. He looked down at the podium as though he might find a cheat sheet there. Raising his eyes, he blinked rapidly and then reached for the glass of water at his fingertips, taking a long draw.

Finally, the answer hit him. He set the glass down and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. My voice was completely gone there for a moment. I guess I've been doing too much talking lately." He flashed one of his most charming smiles. "Please forgive me. Now to address your question."

Brad began his remarks on the topic, but he had already lost too much time. The moderator interrupted him before he got to the crux of his proposed policy changes. As he listened to Ellington give a coherent, well-prepared response, Brad realized his competitor had just won round one. Trying to shake it off, Brad focused on the second question. With Ellington taking the lead on that one, Brad had plenty of time to formulate his own response and when his turn came around, he rattled off his answer with no hitches.

As he listened to the third question, Brad felt a moment of panic again. Not wanting a repeat performance, he began speaking immediately after the moderator was finished, but he stammered for the first ten seconds while he racked his brain searching for his prepared response. When it came to him, he rushed through the answer, not knowing how much time he had already wasted and afraid that he would get cut off again. When he finished his remarks, he realized he still had a minute left. Trying to fill the time, he repeated an earlier statement almost verbatim. Realizing his mistake, he threw out a final comment in a lame attempt to wrap up his position.

When he finished, he turned to Ellington and saw the man flash him a condescending smile before addressing the audience. "As much as I respect my esteemed colleague, I don't feel he has truly grasped the serious nature of this issue." The vice-president proceeded to give another thoughtful response while Brad seethed with frustration.

As the debate dragged on, it wasn't until the topic switched to domestic policies that Brad finally felt himself grounded again. Although he finished on a high note, he wondered how many viewers had turned off the television before he had recovered. How many people had just witnessed him sounding like a blubbering fool?

He crossed the stage and shook hands with Ellington, noting the self-satisfied gleam in his competitor's eyes. After the men exchanged the standard pleasantries, their families were asked to join them on the stage. When Carolyn leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, she whispered, "Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm fine. Leave it alone," he hissed back.

After going through the final motions of small talk and photographs, the candidates left the stage to join their respective camps. Brad walked over to where his father and brother were standing.

His father looked at him with disappointment in his face. "I was just telling Ryan he's got his work cut out for him. That was a debacle. I don't know how he's going to manage to spin that debate in your favor." He turned and walked away before Brad could answer.

Ryan put his arm around Brad's shoulders. "Don't let Dad get to you. It wasn't that bad. Everyone has an off night."

Brad looked at him coldly. "With four weeks left, I can't afford an 'off night.' That was a fucking disaster."