The Blue Folio by Matt McMahon

Author:Matt McMahon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: political fiction, corrupt, political suspense, political thrillers, spy novels, treason fiction, historical novels america
Publisher: Black Ostrich Press

Chapter 11

Philadelphia, July 21, 2037

Sebastian sat by himself at one of the round tables—away from the table square—in the Bourse. His stomach growled louder than the delegates arguing only a few feet away, and they were pretty loud, he happily observed as he picked at the food in front of him. President Adee had pushed the session two hours past their usual dinner break. He half expected her gavel to shatter into splinters from the constant banging during the session. She dismissed them until the next morning, out of frustration, he guessed.

Hostilities flared over the clauses that divvied up power between the federal government and the states, the supremacy and commerce clauses. Passions burned white on either side. Each side accused the other of being the evil that exalted corruption over democracy. Industries that monopolized access to Congress. Land developers who made local politicians dance with tethered purse strings. Both clauses were to be argued together. There was no other way to address them, Sebastian knew. That played perfectly into his plan.

At the table square, Javier Mulero, the political delegate from New Mexico, ripped into Raju Sunderam, the scholar delegate from Nebraska. Sebastian hadn’t seen the two say a cross word to anyone until now. A sign that the clouds had gathered for a perfect storm, the storm he counted on.

“You’re trying to turn the federal government into a monarchy—what about the states?” Sebastian heard one of them ask, not looking over to see whom.

“You’re just using that as an excuse to keep money in the pockets of local politicians!” the other yelled back, as if his opponent had single-handedly caused all of the problems in the country.

Sebastian listened less for what they were saying than for their tone. Sophisticated ladies and gentlemen pointing fingers while they screamed at each other created a unique sound, like banging a palm on a piano keyboard instead of forming harmonious chords. The most discordant tones would come from words meant to wound, rather than explain. Those are the words he listened for.

Any hope of the convention falling apart would come on these clauses. That’s what Sebastian told his clients, the industry heads who flocked to him once he was appointed as a delegate. They had grown fat from institutionalized governmental corruption. The Second Constitution would put them on a starvation diet, he warned, increasing their fear and his fees leading up to the convention.

Corruption always existed, Sebastian observed as if it was his stock in trade. People were indifferent to it. Everyone knew that politicians had their hands in everything and that special interests owned the politicians. But no one wanted to do anything about it. An occasional scandal, someone being too direct or too greedy, could stir up the people, but never for long. One or two scapegoats, a sacrificial lamb, is all it took to quiet them down. But that had changed.

Ironically, what changed it was institutionalizing it, making it legal, he lamented. Only suicidal politicians took bribes. The rest took handouts for their political action or leadership committees.

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