"Ahhhhh!" The menacing faces disappeared and Charles found himself sitting up in bed. It had been a dream. He shook his head to clear it and discovered there was indeed a hand on his shoulder. His campaign manager had risen earlier from the other bed, and hearing his distress moved to wake him. A few moments were necessary for Charles to re-orient himself. What day was it? March 20th, 2011. Where was he? Redding, California. Room 225 in the downtown Holiday Inn. Looking at the clock he saw it was 5:55 AM. In two hours he was to speak at a breakfast get-together with the Redding Merchants Association. Afterward they would be chauffeured into the country for a series of seminars and question/answer sessions for the rest of the day.
"The dream again?"
Charles nodded. For the last few weeks he had been plagued with them.
"Man! That was intense!" Charles got up and paced around while he related a few details from the dream. Then he poured a cup of coffee and they ran over his schedule. It was a busy one. He was going to speak some five times that day-on different subjects. For each talk a folder had been prepared with the most up-to-date and pertinent information. Normally Charles preferred a more extemporaneous approach. His outlines were often just key words on a sheet of paper. But this was a conference and he wanted to have the documentation at his fingertips.
A few minutes later, he nodded. "This is very impressive! We're going to knock-em dead today." With that he rose to shower and get ready.
His manager nodded and shifted toward the computer. He had been working on their web site. It was puzzling. For some time now his goal was to use every internet tool possible to spread their message and promote Charles as a viable alternative to normal party politics. Facebook, Twitter, blogs, emails and the rest were his domain. He found that their 'no money' policy was a good hook, but now more was needed to keep interest in the cause. His web site featured a literal cornucopia of information and resources. There was a set of links to the best and most conservative sites. Both he and Charles wrote weekly articles about the role of government and law to a free society; and the consequences when these roles were exceeded. Both their blogs were updated daily with running commentary about the issues at hand. He recorded every talk Charles made and excerpts were posted on a regular basis. They had multiple areas for their followers to comment. One, called 'My Take', allowed individuals to offer their own solutions to everything from health care to tax reform. Needless to say, this was a popular and lively forum. The best of these ideas were featured prominently on the site. In fact, many of them were quite good. He had also set up the network to be as decentralized as possible. The sister and mirror sites were maintained and updated by volunteers, who had a measure of control over them. A bit of latitude was allowed to keep local groups focused and interested. It had taken quite a while for him to put all this together, and the rewards were beginning to show. Membership was increasing rapidly. Charles had garnered the attention of the Tea Party and became a speaker at their events. Everything was in place for the big push which would begin later this year. All in all he was confident of their chances. What was needed now was some nudge, a seminal event for Charles' candidacy to explode on the national stage. Were that to happen he would be unstoppable.
Yet he had to face a feeling that something wasn't quite right. This mood was unrelated to Charles' leadership or his abilities. He was a great boss. No. It was something external and cast a pall over every victory, every achievement.
When the threats began he supposed they were from some disenchanted individual or group. It was soon apparent they were not. And when he used his (considerable) programming skills to find the culprits, he found nothing but dead ends. The perpetrators, whoever they be, were pretty slick. But the demands of the campaign left no time to concentrate on some (hopefully) empty threats. However, they continued, becoming more and more specific as well as more violent. Soon they could no longer be ignored. He sought advice from law enforcement officers who specialized in cyber-crime, to no avail. Now he was quietly asking for plainclothes officers and off-duty policemen to attend their meetings and keep and eye out for anything suspicious.
As campaign manager he was rarely on center stage but always near it. That fact allowed him to be in a unique position. He could watch the audience and read their faces. While most of the people in the crowds were fully engaged, smiling and upbeat; a few started appearing with scowls and frowns. When he attempted to corner these individuals and find out what their concerns were he was met with stone faced silence. They were obviously being watched. But by whom? He could not tell. It was quite normal for politicians to keep tabs on their opponents; but this behavior had a sinister feel. In the past few days the number of threats had increased considerably. His gut was warning him that something bad was going down in just two weeks. All the threats pointed to Chicago.
But he had a few tricks up his sleeve, too.
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