The Frankenstein Candidate by Vinay Kolhatkar Read Free Book Online Page B

called the Ten Commandments. Commandments that would transform America, make it glorious again.
    “Just a gimmick,” Larry said, “but not a bad one for a newcomer. Anyway, Stein is not someone I would be worried about.”
    The TV was still on. Frank Stein was saying, “The major political parties hire spin doctors who spin meaningless slogans. Before we can think of governing, we need to get rid of the slogans and the bromides. You the people have every right to expect that your elected representatives stop sidestepping every difficult question. Exercise that right, starting now. No more rhetoric, that’s the message for today. Thank you for your time.”
    “Isn’t that itself rhetoric?” asked Olivia half-heartedly, wanting to belong, desperately, to the elite club whose doors had just opened to her. What better way was there than to demonize the opposition?
    Larry agreed, “Yes, in a sense, he is sloganeering too. Even senators and governors need complex bills broken down into simple formulae. The people? Rhetoric is the only thing they will ever respond to.”
    Olivia thought she had handled herself well on the first day on the elite circuit—she had expressed herself and offended no one. She belonged—maybe that’s where she did belong, an even higher place than the Senate—in the ranks of the rulers, men and women who could change things.

 

5
In the Home of the Homeless
    Olivia left the meeting on Capitol Hill, energized by the vote of confidence expressed in her. Her cell phone beeped as soon as she turned it on. There was a message from one of her assistants—they had found him!
    It had taken almost three weeks for her staff to locate the man she was looking for: the bearded giant. When Olivia had got into the ambulance with Jacques, she’d had the presence of mind to take his picture with her cell phone. It wasn’t a close up, and the man had since shaved. Nevertheless, they had eventually found him. Now she knew his name: Dan Curtis. She knew where he lived. She was on her way.
    She drove there herself. It was a poor neighborhood on the outskirts of the District zone, not far from where the incident with her driver occurred.
    She stopped half a block away from her destination. Perhaps he’s not at home , she thought. She should have rung first, but she was keen on surprising him. With her car still parked, she called his cell. A voice message confirmed that it was indeed a Dan Curtis whose cell phone she had called.
    She made her way to a decrepit apartment building in an inner-city neighborhood famous for its crime statistics. The streets were quiet and littered with waste. At least three older men were lying on the sidewalk, a bottle or two of whiskey at their side. Perhaps I’ll leave a message to meet elsewhere. But Compassion, the name of her father’s voice, was inside her head, urging her to go. Her legs obeyed even as her mind hesitated.
    Two African American youths stood near the entrance to the building. They looked wasted. She strode on, unfazed.
    The pungent odor of garbage swirled in her nostrils. One of the youths whistled. Then the other one yelled at her.
    “Hey, babe, nice ass you got there, huh?”
    She ignored him. He sniggered at her. The other one jostled his friend with his elbow. Undeterred, she stepped into the building.
    Once inside, she looked for a residents’ name board. There was none. She looked around. She did not have the apartment number, and the last thing she wanted to do was to knock on every door.
    “Looking for something?” An old woman startled her from behind.
    “Uhh, yes…Dan Curtis. Does he live here?”
    The old woman looked her over from head to toe without saying a word. She didn’t need to. Her look said, “You do not belong here, lady.”
    “Maybe he doesn’t, I guess,” she said. Fighting Compassion, Olivia decided it was better to wait until she connected by phone and began to retrace her steps.
    “Fifth floor, second door. The door is