Programmed to Win: A Political Thriller

By K.A. Brown

The story opens with the brilliant discovery of a cure for cancer by Dr. Francis Popolous and quickly turns dark as the scientist learns that his genetic findings also reveal a person's political disposition. Politicians, influencers, and heroes across America become part of a twisted adventure filled with murder and scheming as the story unrave

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tactical 16 Publishing
• Release date: Jul 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088235218

K.A. Brown

KA Brown is a first-time author whose debut novel, Programmed to Win, is a political thriller set to be published by Tactical 16 Publishing in the early summer of 2023. Before becoming a writer, KA spent 26 years as a firefighter and recently retired to pursue his passion for writing.In addition to his career as a firefighter, KA has always been an avid reader and has always had a love for storytelling. KA enjoys spending time with his family, including his wife, two grown children and two grandchildren, when he's not writing. He is also a proud pet owner of a rescued German shepherd dog.KA's experience as a firefighter has given him a unique perspective on the world and has inspired him to explore complex themes in his writing. Programmed to Win is a gripping tale that delves into the inner workings of politics and the lengths some will go to achieve their goals.KA is thrilled to have signed with Tactical 16 Publishing and looks forward to sharing his novel with readers. He is dedicated to creating compelling stories to keep readers on the edge of their seats and looks forward to continuing his writing journey.

Book preview

Prologue

In every lifetime, there are events that have the potential to shape the course of human existence for years or even decades to come. One such event was about to occur in a science lab that very few people even knew existed. As with every such occasion, there will always be people looking to take advantage of and manipulate these events to serve their own ends.

Science has always looked for ways to solve many of the problems of humankind, from making daily life easier to finding ways to increase our longevity. The efforts to solve these mysteries have not only produced impressive and beneficial results but, at times, have also led to further and deeper mysteries to be solved and to darker and more troubling problems.

In medical science, many people have died to illuminate the path to cures for various diseases. This story is based on the misuse of information obtained in the search for a specific cure.

Chapter 1

A Mutation of Success

The room was sealed to the outside, and they were deep under the earth, only one way in or out. It looked like you might imagine the inside of a spaceship. Very bright lights shone down from the ceiling illuminating the workspace and everything around it. Lines and hoses of varying sizes hung from the ceiling, each dedicated to its own individual function, including monitoring, ventilation, hydration, and sampling. Inside this sealed room, Dr. Francis Popolous was sure today was the day; he had been experimenting with human genetics and DNA mutations for nearly two decades. Now he was confident that all his patience was about to pay off. Cancer treatment and survivability were about to change forever! He waited for the test results to be displayed on the computer.

Success!

The screen pulsated with a flashing green bar that read, All cells mutated, indicating that his latest genetic mutation had worked in changing cancer cells into a sort of benign fat cells. The doctor grinned; he looked to the assistants on the other side of the observation glass. They couldn’t see his grin because of the containment suit he wore but he wasn’t able to suppress it. He moved methodically in the yellow containment suit, each move done slowly and with purpose. Any mistake now could invalidate his findings. Step by step he completed the routine he had performed thousands of times before until he reached the decontamination door and opened it. The door closed behind him, and the cycle of decontamination started. UV lights blasted the room as he closed his eyes, then a warm chemical solution sprayed over the top of the suit, and finally cold water washed away any possible contaminants. A light on the wall indicated the process was complete and the doctor moved to the next area to undress from the suit and work his way out and back into his normal clothes. As he exited the protected area, lab assistants and fellow scientists greeted him, some jumping up and down with elation. The pats on the back and handshakes continued all the way to his office, where he would review his results. People had made fun of his approach for his entire career; they always said he was messing with science that was too dangerous. It was true that during his earlier research, he had accidentally discovered mutations that had negatively affected the human body. Some had even been completely unexpected and had resulted in the deaths of some of his assistants. Not all were deadly though. He had even discovered genetic coding that seemed to indicate a person’s predilection for strong beliefs, such as religious and political affiliations. All those findings were locked away in his secure server, deep underground in his private lab. For now, he was solely concentrating on his cure for cancer. He was going to be very rich and maybe the most famous person ever! He was certain that his work with cancer would be the biggest discovery of his life; others, however, had other plans for his work.

After his early failures, most large medical and pharmaceutical companies had run from him like the plague. Universities abandoned his grant projects and he lost almost all his private financial backers. He almost was forced to give up his research due to lack of funding. Then out of nowhere, the needed funding arrived. Dr. Popolous had always wondered why a no-name company would have invested such a large amount of money in his research, but now it was going to pay off for both of them. He saved the latest round of data to his server and imagined how the world was about to change. Little did he know, it would be years before anyone would ever know of his findings. His research was about to take a detour due to the contract he had signed with his mysterious benefactors, a detour that would ultimately lead his work into taking lives, not saving them.

Eighteen years later, a man sat alone in an office in Boston watching the TV monitors suspended from the ceiling. He had just finished running the northeastern campaign for the next president of the United States. Generally, the room would be filled with staff and volunteers. Tonight, however, he had sent them all to the local convention center to celebrate in real time as their candidate claimed victory. He had decided to wait until the last poll closed, based on nothing more than his own personal superstition. He poured himself a cup of coffee to help get through what he was sure would be a long night of celebration. After all, no one had expected their candidate to win, let alone win by such a momentous landslide.

Once again the American people have spoken, he thought.

He grabbed his mug and quickly let it go. Something had pricked him. He looked at the mug and saw a small drop of blood, but he couldn’t see what had caused it. Carefully, he lifted the mug again with no further issue. He sat back in his chair and watched the news reporters, seemingly stunned at the results. He smiled. He sat alone in the room, satisfied that he had been part of this success. He started to get up, as he felt the elation of the evening take hold of him. He was excited to spend the rest of the evening surrounded by winners and like-minded Americans. Then without warning, he started to feel different. His ears rang and his heart felt like it would burst out of his chest; his head pounded like an elephant was playing drums on it, and his vision blurred. At first, he saw double, then just fuzzy images. He felt the coffee cup fall from his hand and knew he was in trouble. He reached for his cell phone to call 911. Then it all went black. He collapsed onto the chair and then onto the floor. He wouldn’t make it to the celebration after all.

A black SUV sat on the street in front of the campaign office. The lone occupant watched the events unfold inside. This was not what they were hoping for. He picked up his cell phone and made a call. The person on the other end listened to the report and just gave some simple instructions.

Just get out of there quietly. Make sure not to draw attention to yourself. We’ll handle the rest from this end.

The SUV pulled away quietly as instructed. The driver didn’t look back or call 911.

The body would be found in due time, and he was certain it would be handled.

Chapter 2

The Loss of Lileth Waller

Inside of the newly remodeled home in Wellesley, the resident woke from what had probably been the worst night of her life. Living in one of the richest areas in Boston wasn’t any consolation after the embarrassment of the previous evening. She wasn’t born into this neighborhood though. She had worked her way through the mire of politics to earn it. Lileth Waller didn’t want to see the morning paper. She already knew what it would say, if not specifically, in context. It was the second time a candidate for her party who was expected to win the presidency by a landslide fell short to their opposition. She had no desire to face her supporters, her staff, or even her family and friends. She thought of the bar in the corner of her kitchen.

Coffee or alcohol?

It was a serious question this morning. She looked out of the circle-top window since it was the only one without the blinds drawn. No sunlight shone through. She decided on coffee since the weather outside appeared gray and overcast.

Perfect, she thought. The weather reflects my mood.

Lileth begrudgingly crawled from her bed. She could hear some movement in the lower level and presumed it was her staff already working for the day. She called her housekeeper/ cook on the house phone, her mood reflected in the tone of her voice.

Please send the others home today. I’d like to be alone this morning. Just make sure I have a full pot of coffee and you can go as well.

Lileth proceeded to shower and dress for a day where she would stay indoors. By the time Lileth made an appearance on the main level of her home, the staff had left. She was alone as she had requested. Lileth sipped her coffee. At least I’m still a congresswoman and Speaker of the House at that, she thought. Deciding it was best to face the day, she unfolded the paper that had been placed out for her by one of her staff.

ANOTHER STAGGERING DEFEAT FOR DEMOCRACY the headline read, alongside a picture of her. In the picture, she was wearing a six-thousand-dollar suit and shoes that cost more than most of her constituents made in a week. The dark suit accented her salt-and-pepper hair. Her hair wasn’t naturally gray yet; she had thought the graying hair made her look presidential. The picture in the paper couldn’t do the dark gray color of her eyes justice. Set against her pale skin they always gathered attention from anyone who was looking at her. Her lip twitched slightly, and she almost smiled a bit. It was good to have such devoted followers in the press, but unfortunately, it seemed people were becoming aware of media bias.

Lileth viewed herself as a non-partisan person. She became a Democrat because that’s where the money for her was. All it took to rile them up was a little victimization and some government handouts and she had them eating out of her had. She had always admired how the Democrats had used racial tensions to stoke hatred and fear and then pretended to have the solution to fix it. Lileth liked to think she started in politics to make a difference, but as she went along it seemed the only difference most politicians seemed to make was in their bank accounts. Hers was a prime example of that. She had no allegiance to America, the Constitution, or even her constituents. Lileth was out for Lileth. She would do almost anything to move up the ladder of power. She remembered growing up in a military house. Her dad had been in the Marines and, as a result, they moved almost like clockwork every two years. Lileth quickly learned not to make close associations with others. At the same time, she learned to hate everything her father stood for, except for one thing: Power. She learned that there was always someone with power over her dad, someone who was responsible for her never having any stability in her life.

She was halfway through the article when the phone rang. She glanced at the number on the caller ID and knew right away that this would be a very sensitive call. Her brow furrowed and she tensed up knowing where the call was coming from. She didn’t answer it; instead, she moved upstairs to her office. She slid in behind the big oak desk, and pressed a small switch concealed in the woodwork. The exterior windows turned white, the doors all locked, and a small amount of white noise became audible. When she saw a green light flash momentarily, she knew the room was secure.

Congresswoman Waller picked up a secure phone from her desk and dialed the number she had seen on the caller ID. A disguised voice answered on the first ring.

Hello, Congresswoman. We need to talk in person.

Lileth thought it sounded like a toy her grandkids used to play with.

Okay, when and where?

Though they never met or even talked in person, she always assumed the person on the other end of these phone calls was a man.

We’ll send a car for you at your home. Be ready!

She started to respond with her own desire to deal with her constituents first, but then knew better. She wouldn’t even have constituents if it wasn’t for them.

I’ll be here. How long?

Soon.

She muttered a line from a space-oriented comedy she had recently seen, a line that seemed to crowd itself into the tense verbal exchange. I’ll be waiting.

Lileth changed into a black business suit with heels and a white blouse. Even in her loss, if she were to be seen in public, she wanted to look capable if not presidential. She knew the temperature would be brisk on this November morning in Boston, so she grabbed her long cashmere overcoat as well. It had been about thirty minutes since her cryptic phone call when the large black SUV pulled up. To most people who may have seen this, it would have looked very much like her normal security detail and transport. Today, however, nothing could be further from the truth. As she stepped out of the front of her large, modern-style home, she wondered if today could get any worse.

A very large man in black, military-style fatigues stepped out of the driver’s seat and visually scanned the area. While no one was around at all, Lileth couldn’t help but wonder what he would have done if someone was there. She walked down her large, stone steps toward the SUV. Just as she approached, the vehicle’s the rear door opened and out stepped a young lady with long, jet-black hair, dressed in similar style to the driver. Lileth thought she was attractive but too muscular in her features. The young woman motioned Lileth into the rear seat and then stepped around to enter on the other side. No words were spoken between them. As soon as both women were in the vehicle, the driver retreated from his observation duties and resumed his role as driver. The car started to move, and suddenly a black hood was pulled over Lileth’s head. The suddenness of the action made Lileth wonder where they were taking her and if she’d be back…ever!

Chapter 3

Politics Can be Deadly

Derrick Driver sat at his desk; piles of paperwork stacked to both sides of his computer screen. Derrick had been around; he was still young enough but had started on the force when he was eighteen. He was one of the longest-serving detectives because he made the position early and never chose to look for advancement after that. He liked his job. At age forty-three, he had his twenty-five years for retirement already in. Being a detective wasn’t like on TV; there were no car chases, no big fights, and no shoot outs—just tons and tons of bureaucratic paperwork and reports solely purposed to satisfy the constant inquiries from lawyers. Just the thought of lawyers made his stomach sick. He really had very little use for them. Derrick understood the reason for lawyers and even appreciated it occasionally. Mostly though, he just saw them screwing the system up and causing victims and their families more pain. He pulled the next report from his pile. Derrick had a small quirk when it came to his case files, something he learned from an older detective years ago. While all his cases were on his computer, he still liked to print them out and keep a paper file folder while he worked the case. It may have just been that he missed the old days but for him it worked. This was a new case; it would require some interviews with the first-responding officers and probably some witnesses who were listed in the initial report. Then he’d get to the part he enjoyed the most, the trip to the medical examiner’s office. People always gave him a funny look when he gave the answer to the question, What’s your favorite part of your job? They never understood that it was his fascination with science and a few other things, and not the grotesque scene one could encounter in the morgue.

The initial facts of the case had been laid out in the patrol officer’s report. It seemed like a simple death report; the only minor complication was that the victim was the Republican regional campaign manager. He had been found dead in his office the night of the huge Republican victory, despite what the papers had been predicting to be a massive Democrat landslide. Derrick didn’t really spend too much time following politics, other than the office politics necessary to navigate his precinct successfully. As he glanced at the report, it seemed pretty straightforward. No evidence of foul play and the victim was older; however, he hadn’t spoken to the ME yet, so he wasn’t sure about medical conditions. Derrick looked at the evidence, which was very little. He couldn’t help but think to himself, Politics are deadly.

He slowly scanned through the pictures. His first reaction after looking everything over he had received so far was that this was natural causes. At this point in his career, it would have been easy to rubber-stamp a case like this. But Detective Driver had always been thorough on every case he had ever been assigned; he wasn’t about to start cutting corners now. He reread the report a second time, jotting notes about witnesses and who discovered the body, time of day, weather, and anything else that might help him close this case quickly. When he finished, Derrick reviewed his notes and got up from his desk, mumbling to himself.

Time to put the miles in.

He waved casually to several of his coworkers as he passed them in the stairwell while headed down to his department-issued cruiser, an older Ford Explorer. The car had started its life as a dark blue patrol car and somewhere along the way had turned more gray than blue. Derrick looked at his reflection in the car window as he approached. He could see his own graying hair.

He laughed to himself. Me and this car have more in common every day!

Derrick started the car and headed out into traffic. The streets were normally congested at this time of the morning, but for some unknown reason, he was able to pull right out into a void in the normally heavy line of traffic.

Derrick hadn’t had a partner in six years. While most of the detectives in his department were paired up, Derrick had proven himself to be more productive when working alone. He enjoyed this solitude and the autonomy to be able to set his own direction and pace for each case. His first stop would be the campaign office where the body was found. Derrick pulled up in front of the commercial-style building that could have easily been an old, small grocery store or some type of office, except for the red, white, and blue banners and signs proclaiming the candidate’s intent to Keep America Great! Political slogans had no effect on Derrick; he always viewed them like alibis that only served to meet the needs of those who shared them. To him, it didn’t matter what your affiliation was; if you were a politician, you were probably lying.

As Derrick started his visual survey even before entering the building, he noticed the police tape on the door and that two election signs had been partially ripped down from the inside. He jotted this down. Satisfied that he had captured whatever information he could from the outside, he sliced the police tape and entered the building. His gaze immediately jumped to the back of the office where the body had been found, but his trained mind automatically reset to the front of the room. He started his systematic visual scouring of the area, looking for anything that might change his initial assessment. While looking at what could have been a crime scene, the first thing that surprised him was how neat and orderly everything was. There had been a huge win for them last night and the whole office looked sterile, like it had never been used. Derrick started to get an uneasy feeling. Cop shows always talk about a gut feeling and, while this always made him laugh, Derrick knew that what cops really felt was a gnawing feeling of experience and expectation that was based on the scenes and crimes they had witnessed during their careers.

After making his notes a little longer and including some early suppositions, Derrick moved deeper into the room. He continued to jot down little things that seemed out of place or irregular to his initial expectations. Finally, he reached the back of the office, the area where the body of James Delandro, the East Coast campaign manager for the Harrington campaign, was found. It struck Derrick by surprise just then, when he realized he was investigating the death of a friend of the president-elect! He looked at the crime scene photos he had brought with him. While there was no direct evidence of a crime, he continued his usual investigative process. With his visual review completed, he was finishing his notes when he noticed the handle of a coffee cup that was smashed on the floor where the body was found. There was a dark spot on it that could have been blood. There was a pool of black coffee there as well, and like the crime scene techs, he assumed the coffee cup was dropped when the victim succumbed to whatever killed him. His first impression was that the dark spot on the cup handle was just dried coffee, but when he looked again, he realized it appeared to be blood. He felt he should bag it but didn’t have an evidence collection kit with him because the crime scene unit had already been through the site. Derrick took a picture with his phone; he wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt that if this wasn’t a natural death, he might have to return and investigate it.

Chapter 4

Silver Shadow

The Silver Shadow Company was probably the largest privately owned company on the planet. They had massive stock holdings in almost every Fortune 500 company but remained privately owned in the background. Many of their investments were to create leverage over someone in one area or another; every dime that was ever spent by their company had ulterior motives that would benefit them with power in the long run. All this wealth and power, yet almost every person you might ask has never heard of them. They operated mostly through subsidiary or shell companies. This allowed them to remain distant from the acts that were committed for them without being directly tied to them. The company, and specifically the owners, always made sure there was someone to blame before it ever made it to them. The owners were not people who frequented large galas or hung around with Hollywood elites; they preferred their anonymity. It allowed them to act in areas that others couldn’t, most times with little notice being paid to them or their intentions.

That is how they hooked Lileth Waller. They had backed her very first run into Congress and her subsequent position as Speaker of the House. It was their idea for her to run for president as well, a plan that Lileth was all too willing to accommodate. Now they had been beaten, not by a lack of money spent or the excessive amount of media manipulation they had purchased; they were beaten by the good old-fashioned will of the people! While they viewed this as a temporary setback, they would