Silenced: Consent Of The Governed Book One Read online

  Silenced

  Consent Of The Governed

  Book One

  B. D. Lutz

  © 2021 B.D. Lutz.

  ISBN: 978-1-7352793-3-6

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  Contact the author via email: [email protected]

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank all of my friends and family for their support. And a special thanks to Heidi, Darline, Russ, Aundre, Tim, Charley, and Sean. Without all of your encouragement, this simply doesn’t happen.

  To the American Military: Without you standing watch over this great nation, this book may not have been possible. You do what few among us have the courage to do. Thank you.

  Edited by Monique Happy Editorial Services

  www.moniquehappyeditorial.com

  Thank you for your hard work and guidance.

  Cover designed by: Kelly A. Martin

  www.kam.design

  Kelly, you are a master at your craft!

  Photography by:

  funkeyfactory (DepositPhotos), rudi (DepositPhotos), eric1513 (DepositPhotos)

  Prologue

  6 p.m. Election Night

  Jack locked the door to Stinger Machinery, officially ending the best day in company history. The reps from Straus Precision had liked what they’d seen. So much, in fact, that they signed the contract without question. He was still in disbelief. Straus’ attorney agreed to his terms without a hint of trepidation. Jack had built in a twenty-percent negotiating cushion and nearly fell over when his new customer inked the deal with only a cursory review.

  He craned his neck skyward and smiled, imagining his dad gazing down on him doing the same. He’d be issuing a purchase order for the new CNC Lathe tomorrow morning. It should be sitting in his shop in six months. Stinger Machinery was growing.

  He pulled out his phone, ready to dial his wife, Lisa, with the news when it buzzed. She’d beaten him to it.

  “Well?” she asked excitedly.

  “They signed the flipping thing! No questions asked. Babe, we got the contract, the largest contract in company history!”

  The whooping and hollering from the speaker sounded like fun, so he joined her. The excitement and anxiety of the day were released in a celebratory howl.

  When their celebration died down, Jack asked, “And well, yourself? What’s the word?”

  “I’m sorry, Mister Stinger.”

  Jack’s heart sank, instantly forgetting about the day’s achievement.

  “From now on,” Lisa said, “you’ll need to refer to me as BYT-Chemical’s new Director of Research and Development, Lisa Stinger.”

  “You got it? You got the promotion!”

  “I did. They just made the offer. And I accepted.”

  “I say we celebrate!” Jack practically screamed into the phone. “We get pizza and watch the election results roll in. We’ll save the steak dinner for the weekend. Deal?”

  The Stingers were political junkies and never missed an opportunity to vote. They scanned the results like hawks. It had become a tradition for them, one they looked forward to… as long as their candidates and issues won. And this year, their choices had to win.

  “Oh, you’re so romantic, Jack Stinger. I can only say DEAL! I gotta go. Can’t be late for my first meeting as Boss Lady.” Lisa hung up as soon as she finished.

  Jack sat in his idling Yukon for a long minute, his smile threatening to tear his lips as he shifted into gear and stomped on the gas.

  Chapter 1

  Inauguration Day

  Chief of Staff Roberts watched the reaction of the President’s cabinet appointees and guests as the newly sworn-in Commander-in-Chief entered the Oval Office. Those reactions would dictate who he’d grant priority access to… and who would beg for it.

  The pecking order was determined quickly. He’d review the video of the event later to ensure he hadn’t missed something, but he felt confident his choices would stick.

  Thirty minutes later, the handshakes and photo ops wrapped up, and a mountain of executive orders was placed on James Eden’s desk.

  Roberts stuffed his amusement as Eden’s unsteady hand began dismantling the previous administration’s legacy. After he signed the initial three orders, the solitary ones Eden had any knowledge of, his sharp-elbowed handlers nearly bum-rushed the press from the Oval Office and killed the video feed.

  Eden leaned back in his chair and appeared to doze. So when he spoke, it startled Roberts. “How much longer?” Eden asked, his eyes still closed.

  “We have fourteen additional orders to sign and a meeting with our friends from social media,” Roberts started. “Then you’re off to bed, Mister President.”

  “Mister President has a nice ring to it,” Eden said through his dreadful crooked smile.

  “It certainly does, sir. Time to sign the rest of those EOs; we shouldn’t keep Jay and Marc waiting.”

  Like a puppet on a string, Eden leaned forward and put pen to work. With each executive order, singular personal freedoms of the American populace disappeared. It all seemed too easy. He truly is just a talking head, Roberts mused as order after order received Eden’s signature. The man hadn’t read a single word; he literally had no idea what he was signing.

  Roberts’ spine went stiff as Vice President Sheila Genus’ cackling laughter filled the Oval Office. She was the one person Roberts wielded no power over. Her unfettered access to Eden was a necessary evil, one he intended to find a way to manage.

  “James! Oh, I’m sorry, Mister President. How does it feel to be helming the most powerful country on the planet?”

  “It feels powerful. Yes, powerful is the feeling,” Eden sputtered.

  Genus’ expectant stare went unanswered. “Well, it feels powerful to serve as your second-in-command, sir.”

  With a flash of his former self, Eden locked eyes with Sheila. “Second in command. Remember that, remember your place.”

  Genus’ smile vanished as Eden’s statement registered.

  Roberts nearly burst into laughter at Eden’s declaration. Neither of you idiots is in control. The thought forced a smile. The moment passed quickly as Eden’s flash of lucidity held longer than Roberts expected.

  “What’s so funny, Roberts?” Eden said, eyes firmly on his chief of staff.

  “Err, nothing, sir, just caught up in the momentous occasion. Your victory was hard-fought, sir, and finally being here makes me happy.”

  “Yeah, well, you won’t be smiling long. We’ve got hard work ahead of us. The kind you’re not used to. So wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, man, and get, um, get… bring those, um. You know who I’m talking about. Bring them in.”

  Roberts nearly laughed in the man’s face. The s
peed with which Eden’s mind clicked in and out of lucidity was astonishing. “Yes, Mister President, I’ll have Jay and Marc shown in.”

  “You do that, Roberts. The President and I have much to discuss with our friends.”

  Eden’s glare bounced to his VP. “We aren’t talking to them. I am. You’ll be leaving with Mister Roberts. As I have already told you, know your place, Genus.”

  With a nod, Roberts pivoted and exited the Oval Office with the VP in tow. As they entered the adjoining security room, Roberts glanced at Genus and just above a whisper said, “You’ll thank him for this.” Answering her questioning stare, he said, “Trust me, you don’t want to be in that meeting.”

  Chapter 2

  Seven Hours Post Inauguration Ceremony

  Jay Daisy sat next to Marc Burg in the legendary office. But neither seemed phased by its grandeur. They’d worked tirelessly to win this office for Eden, an achievement for which they expected to be richly compensated.

  James Eden shuffled to the couch opposite theirs, practically collapsing into it as he sat. “Gentlemen, the hour’s growing late, so I’ll be brief.”

  Jay glanced at his watch. It was seven-thirty post meridian.

  “I wanted to thank you both, personally. Your organizations played a pivotal role in this victory. Your dedication to my campaign and our vision for a new America tipped the scales in our favor.”

  Eden paused, pressing his hand to his right ear. “Oh yes, yes. But our work isn’t finished. In fact, it’s just beginning. We must curtail the voices of dissent. And it starts with the loudest voice.”

  “He’s going to screw this up. I should be in there with him,” Genus hissed at Roberts.

  “No,” Roberts answered sharply. “He’s the only one to have direct contact with them. They’ve been adamant that they won’t speak to anyone but the President.”

  The two watched anxiously from the security room adjoining the Oval Office. Roberts had a direct line to Eden via audio link to the President’s earpiece. The video feed, which Roberts was recording, gave them four unique angles of the office.

  Unhappy with Roberts’ rebuke, Genus shifted gears. “Why are we moving so quickly? Shouldn’t we wait until after the mid-terms to ensure we hold both the House and Senate?”

  “You’re thinking in terms of yesteryear’s politics, Madam Vice President. We have the winning formula; we no longer need to play nice with the other team. In fact, we plan to tear out their throats.”

  “You will refer to me as Vice President Genus. Madam is an obsolete gendered term.”

  Roberts didn’t respond and let his challenging gaze linger on the VP until she turned away. Good, you’re learning your place!

  Eden’s rambling pulled Roberts’ attention back to the Oval Office. Due to Genus’ endless prattling, the reason behind Eden’s sputtering response was lost to him.

  “I’ve already explained, Marc. Apply more pressure on them, all of them. We, um, we’re going to, um…” Eden placed his hand to his ear again, then snapped back to his sentence. “Going to run cover. You’ve no doubt seen the media coverage. The former administration is being dragged through the mud. Everything they touch becomes tarnished. They’ll never work in DC again. Every word they utter is fact-checked and labeled as false. We expect you to do the same to their followers. We’ve done…”

  Eden suddenly stopped speaking, eyes focused on some distant memory. Roberts panicked. He recognized what was happening. But Marc Burg interjected before he could shut the conversation down. “Mister President, my team continues to support that effort. We are deplatforming hundreds of people daily. I’m sure Jay’s people have been doing the same. However, several of the iconoclasts have filed lawsuits against our fact-checkers, a half-dozen of them to be exact. We’ve lost each suit brought against us. Our litigation resources are finite.”

  Marc shifted his gaze to Jay in hopes his counterpart would add credence to his statement. But the man appeared as clueless as Eden. Marc shook his head in disgust and continued his plea. “We need more support with litigation expenses and, more importantly, outcomes.”

  Eden jumped, surprised by some unseen influence. “Sure, sure, whatever you want, Marc. We’re taking action to curtail both. Wait until you hear about the Bureau of Harm Reduction. Man, it’s going to be something.”

  “Sir, don’t curtail our funds, only the litigation. Have I been clear? Also, I’d like to hear more about this… what did you call it, Bureau of Harm Reduction?”

  Eden’s mention of the BHR spurred Roberts to move. He pulled his headset off, cut the video feed, and stormed into the Oval Office. “Gentlemen, the President is calling a lid. I’ll see you out.”

  Eden appeared confused by the intrusion, moving his empty gaze between his guests and Roberts. It seemed as if he didn’t recognize his Chief of Staff.

  Vice President Genus stepped between Eden and Roberts and called the First Lady into the office. Jan Eden joined the VP at the couch, and together they pulled James from the couch and whisked him away.

  ***

  Roberts escorted their allies through the tunnel exit of the White House, which dumped out near H Street. This would likely be the first of many such walks through the labyrinth of tunnels, which had sat unused for decades. The master plan demanded secrecy, as did the people setting that plan in motion.

  “So, tell us more about that bureau Eden mentioned? Specifically, I’d like to know its impact on our organizations.” Other than greeting the President, this was the only time Jay had uttered a word.

  “Gentlemen, rest assured you and your organizations remain imperative to our success. This administration will move heaven and earth to insulate you from unnecessary oversight. Just make sure your algorithms do as we ask.”

  Marc caught the nuance in Roberts’ phrasing. “Who’ll be determining what is necessary and unnecessary?”

  “Have faith, Mister Burg. This administration rewards loyalty. Good evening, gentlemen,” Roberts said as he shuffled the men into the secured alleyway leading to H Street.

  Roberts was dialing a number before the heavy steel door had slammed shut. “Hello, Miss Woods. I have a name to add to your list.”

  Chapter 3

  Stinger Machinery, Eight Months Post Inauguration

  Jack stormed towards the office area of Stinger Machinery. The call from Jennifer, his receptionist, couldn’t have come at a worse time. His lathe went down an hour ago, in the middle of processing the second phase of Straus Precision’s order. If he didn’t get these crankshafts loaded and shipped by tomorrow morning, Stinger Machinery would lose the contract and probably cease to exist.

  The three-month-old, twenty-five-thousand-dollar machine had been rock solid until today. His shop technician, Armin, was struggling to diagnose the problem. Even after an hour on the phone with the manufacturer’s tech support, the lathe remained idle.

  Out of frustration, Armin had pulled the tool-turret apart, its cutting heads now littering the shop’s floor. Jack could literally see the contract evaporating in front of him.

  He had asked Jennifer to tell the visitors to leave. Her response sent his blood pressure through the roof. “I’m sorry, Jack. They helped themselves to your office.”

  Jack’s pace quickened with each step. You best be dropping off a check for millions of dollars, he thought as he entered the building’s cramped office area, slamming the door to the shop behind him.

  He nearly came to a stop when he saw who was waiting for him. The gray suits, dour expressions, and black leather briefcases told him all he needed to know.

  “So, to what do I owe the honor of government officials visiting Stinger Machinery?” he asked while taking a seat at his desk.

  Unfazed by his brisk greeting, the gray suit seated closest to him spoke. “I’m Agent Amanda Woods. I represent the Bureau of Harm Reduction. My colleague is Agent Cindy Cummings, representing the Bureau of Civic Responsibility. I’m confident I speak for both of us when I say it’s
a pleasure to meet you.”

  Jack remained silent as the agent’s expectant gaze seemed to hold on him for hours. “I don’t like to waste time. You already know my name, you know what I do, and you probably know what I had for lunch. So, Miss Woods, I have a business to run, and your visit is making that impossible. Cut to the chase.”

  “Please refer to me as Agent Woods. Let’s be clear, you inherited this business from your father. Please don’t act as if you built it. And I see no reason our visit should be a confrontational encounter. Unless, of course, you’re hiding something.” A sideways grin broke on the bureaucrat’s face. “Do you have something to hide, Jack?”

  “Please refer to me as Mister Stinger,” Jack shot back. “And, to answer your question, I do not. The visit from the ATF last month was tantamount to a prostate exam. If I was hiding something, the ATF would have found it. I’d tell you to review the ATF’s notes, but you already have. So, I’ll ask you again, why are you here?”

  Agent Woods bristled at Jack’s sharp tone. She was accustomed to being feared by commoners, especially ones with something to lose, like Jack Stinger.

  With a forced calm, she moved forward. “Mister Stinger, the BHR, in coordination with the BCR, have been tasked with the singular focus of ensuring the safety of the American people. To accomplish this goal, it is our duty to partner with the business community to ensure the products they produce aren’t modified in a way that allows them to be used in nefarious or harmful activities.”

  “Agent Woods, I’ll once again refer you to the ATF report. Their agents also arrived unannounced, they too expressed concern for the safety of the American people, and they found nothing to indicate nefarious activity. Every piece of bar stock, every metal billet, everything was counted. They inspected my machines, questioned my employees, and audited my books. Now, if your intent is to perform a similar investigation, you will have free and unobstructed access to my books. However, access to my employees won’t be granted until the end of the workday.”