Who Is Jack Winter ( Part 16)

Jack has to meet the American President in twenty four hours and needs some leverage!

Jack was bored. In front of him were two, twenty somethings from Oxbridge. They were there to advise him on American Politics and Social History. According to Maurice these were the rising stars of their generation and would one day rule the world. Jack thought this highly unlikely.

The younger one was called Eric. He was dressed smart enough, but looked about sixteen. Jack wondered if he’d started shaving yet. Apparently he had a Masters Degree in American Politics and knew everything there was to know about the American President, Victor Kennedy.

The other one introduced himself as Gareth. He wasn’t quite as tidy as Eric and looked as though he could do with a good wash. Jack’s Mum would have called him “soapy.” He also had a Masters Degree in American Culture and Social History. Jack thought this was hilarious. Two words that just didn’t go together. American and Culture.

So far they’d told him nothing that he couldn’t have found on Wikipedia.

Eric was in full flow.

“So you see Deputy Prime Minister, Victor Kennedy is very much a Conservative, just as Nixon, Ford, Regan and Bush were before him. But he prefers to call his brand of politics Progressive Liberalism. He thinks that this may sway some of the Democratic vote.”

Jack couldn’t stand it anymore. The blues and greens were beginning to wear off and he hadn’t had a scotch in over two hours. He was getting edgy.

“What’s his sexual preference?”

Eric was taken aback.

“I’m sorry sir?”

“What gets his rocks off? Blondes, brunettes, gingers, old, young, slim, fat. One at a time, doubles, threesomes. Does he like it rough, bondage, you know the kind of thing. What does he like?”

There was silence. Gareth looked as though he wanted his mummy. Jack continued.

“Look guys, for the past two hours you’ve told me nothing I don’t already know or could have found out on the web. Give me something. Something that will take him by surprise. Something that I shouldn’t know about. Anything!”

Eric thought for a few seconds then spoke up.

“Well his wife is from Texas and she’s tall and blonde. He dated two girls while he was at college. They were also tall and blonde. Oh and there was that girl from Arizona that he went out with for a while before he met his wife. She was blonde.”

Jack smiled.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. He likes his woman tall and blonde. Nothing wrong with that. What about his secretary, or close admin staff, advisors? Any of these tall and blonde?”

Now Eric was smiling. The penny had finally dropped.

“Yes. Sandy Ashton. She’s a close advisor to the president. She’s tall and blonde.”

“Bingo! The chances are he’s shagging her. Fuck me, she even sounds like a porn star!”

Jack stood up. At last they were getting close. But if he was to make real progress he would need a little help.

“Excuse me for a moment gents. Need to point Percy.”

Eric and Gareth nodded. They hadn’t a clue what Jack was talking about. But assumed he meant he needed to pee.

Once inside the toilet cubicle Jack took his usual mid-morning cocktail of blues and greens followed by two lines of coke. Within seconds a few ideas started to pop into his head. He returned to face the two people his head was now calling dumb and dumber.

He strode round the office. Gulping in huge chunks of air.

“Okay. What does he drink? What’s his tipple of choice?”

Gareth looked up.

“He’s not really a big drinker sir.”

Eric interrupted.

“Not true. He drinks Hennessey and Ginger Ale.”

Jack stopped walking and moved in close on the person his head was calling Dumb. He was intrigued.

“And how do you know this wonderful piece of knowledge Eric.”

“His son told me.”

There was a stunned silence. Both Jack and Gareth stared at dumb.

“You know his son?”

“Not well sir. He spent a year at Cambridge when I was there. His dad was Governor of Wyoming at the time and sent him over here to study Law. He knew a few of my friends. We had a drink together a couple of times.”

Jack leaned forward.

“Now listen Eric this is very important. Think back and tell me exactly what you can remember from that conversation.”

Dumb went quiet for a few seconds trying to replay the scene in his head.

“We were at the bar. Just the two of us. I ordered a bottle of beer. He was standing next to me and I asked him if he wanted a drink. He said he’d have a Hennessey and Ginger ale. I said that was an unusual drink. I’d never heard of it before. He said that it was what his dad drank and he liked it.”

“What else did he say? Come on Eric, think.”

Once again Dumb fell silent. After a few seconds he spoke.

“I said my dad drank whisky and soda and I hated it. I said my Mum drank gin and tonic and that I quite liked the taste of it. He said that his mum didn’t drink anymore.”

“Did he use those exact words?”

“Yes. Why?”

Jack was amazed that for a kid with an IQ of gigantic proportions he couldn’t see what was blatantly obvious.

Jack waived his hand.

“Okay. Meeting’s over. You can both go now.”

Dumb and dumber stood up, thanked Jack and left.

Jacks brain was going into overdrive. Everything was kicking in. “She didn’t drink anymore.” Meant that she’d had to give it up or was at least trying. He was remembering things that he’d read in the papers or seen on the web. Mrs Kennedy didn’t like the limelight. She hated public appearances. The White House press said that she was a shy woman who would help her husband in any way she could but didn’t want to be the centre of attraction. Great spin. She was a fucking embarrassment!

He remembered something from last year. An incident where she had slipped and sprained her ankle. He was sure he could find it on YouTube.

He typed in “First lady slip” and there it was.” She was walking down some steps and bang! Over she went. She blamed it on her five inch heels. But maybe, just maybe, she was pissed.

Jack opened up his drinks cabinet and poured himself a tumbler full of his favourite malt. His mind racing.

So, here we have an American President who wants to rule the world. But he has secrets. He’s shagging his “special advisor” and his wife is an alcoholic.

He dialled a number on his mobile.

“Hi Patrick. Send a case of Hennessey to my flat and one to my office. And you know that girl, the tall  blonde one, we both had a go on the other week. Call her and tell her she’s on stand by for the next forty eight hours.”