Read Online The Last Victim by Kevin O'Brien - Free Book Online
Authors: Kevin O'Brien
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brother, eyes on the TV. “This has something to do with you wanting stricter standards for employee safety and for industrial waste disposal. Am I right?”
“Bingo.”
“I don’t want my daddy to lose his job,” said another tearful child—a little black girl with her hair in braids.
Jim Foley appeared on the screen. Wearing khakis and a denim shirt with an open collar, he sat on the edge of a desk. The ruggedly handsome, gray-haired sixty-year-old looked very relaxed and accessible. A regular Joe. He had a warm smile and appeared to be a tall man—in very fit condition.
Actually, Jim Foley was a multimillionaire, the former CEO of a huge intermobile corporation. He stood five eight in his stocking feet, and beneath those casual clothes he wore a man’s girdle. But few people knew that. Jim Foley had paid one of the West Coast’s most prominent marketing firms to advise him on sharpening his TV-image—to compete with the handsome and charismatic Brad Corrigan. Thanks to marketing experts, makeup, and crafty camera angles, Jim Foley came across as tall, stoic, friendly, a little bit gruff and a little bit sexy—a cross between Harrison Ford and Tom Brokaw.
“There are over a hundred reasons why you shouldn’t vote for Brad Corrigan,” Jim Foley said to his TV viewers. “But I’ll give you just one reason—your children.”
“Who wrote this?” Bridget said. “It’s terrible.”
“Wait a minute,” Brad said. “Here comes the trademark sign-off.”
Foley smiled into the camera. “I’m your friend, Jim Foley, and I want to be your senator.”
“With friends like that, who needs enemas?” Bridget remarked, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you let him get away with all those distortions and lies.” She clicked off the TV.
Brad took a folded white button-down shirt out of a plastic bag from the cleaners. “I’ve discussed it with Jay, and he says I’m better off not acknowledging Foley’s bullshit.”
Jay Corby was Brad’s campaign manager, a slick huckster and a bit of a control freak. Bridget often thought Jay underestimated their opponent. Foley had interests in two local TV stations, a radio station, and a major newspaper in Portland. The distortions he broadcast weren’t being contradicted by anyone.
Bridget sighed. “If you don’t challenge him on these lies, the thousands and thousands of people who see him on TV will take what he says as gospel. I can’t believe you’re letting him get away with this.”
“Oh, this is nothing,” Brad replied. “I think Foley’s just warming up for now. The campaign hasn’t even started to get dirty yet.”
Bridget said nothing. She watched her brother retreat into the bathroom.
Brad had gained his popularity from endless personal appearances and word of mouth. The independent weeklies in Portland, Salem, and Eugene were behind him. It was only from the small press—along with several Internet sites—that people got the truth about Jim Foley.
While Foley was CEO of Mobilink, Inc., the company got away with violating dozens of ecological, safety, and antidiscrimination laws. Before caring so much about “our children” in his current ad campaign, Foley consistently rejected proposals for employee pregnancy-leave benefits and on-site day care facilities.
Under Foley’s regime, the company avoided paying any state or federal income taxes for four years—thanks to some crafty manipulations of their books. Certainly helping matters were Foley’s close ties to the current incumbent senator, Glen Eberhart. Foley had been a huge contributor in Eberhart’s last campaign. Foley had also used his media connections to downplay a scandal last year when Eberhart’s drug habit was uncovered. The senator, who suffered from chronic back pain and obesity, had been buying addictive painkillers and diet pills from a black market supplier for months. Foley’s press and Eberhart’s followers quickly forgave the senator for violations
“Bingo.”
“I don’t want my daddy to lose his job,” said another tearful child—a little black girl with her hair in braids.
Jim Foley appeared on the screen. Wearing khakis and a denim shirt with an open collar, he sat on the edge of a desk. The ruggedly handsome, gray-haired sixty-year-old looked very relaxed and accessible. A regular Joe. He had a warm smile and appeared to be a tall man—in very fit condition.
Actually, Jim Foley was a multimillionaire, the former CEO of a huge intermobile corporation. He stood five eight in his stocking feet, and beneath those casual clothes he wore a man’s girdle. But few people knew that. Jim Foley had paid one of the West Coast’s most prominent marketing firms to advise him on sharpening his TV-image—to compete with the handsome and charismatic Brad Corrigan. Thanks to marketing experts, makeup, and crafty camera angles, Jim Foley came across as tall, stoic, friendly, a little bit gruff and a little bit sexy—a cross between Harrison Ford and Tom Brokaw.
“There are over a hundred reasons why you shouldn’t vote for Brad Corrigan,” Jim Foley said to his TV viewers. “But I’ll give you just one reason—your children.”
“Who wrote this?” Bridget said. “It’s terrible.”
“Wait a minute,” Brad said. “Here comes the trademark sign-off.”
Foley smiled into the camera. “I’m your friend, Jim Foley, and I want to be your senator.”
“With friends like that, who needs enemas?” Bridget remarked, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you let him get away with all those distortions and lies.” She clicked off the TV.
Brad took a folded white button-down shirt out of a plastic bag from the cleaners. “I’ve discussed it with Jay, and he says I’m better off not acknowledging Foley’s bullshit.”
Jay Corby was Brad’s campaign manager, a slick huckster and a bit of a control freak. Bridget often thought Jay underestimated their opponent. Foley had interests in two local TV stations, a radio station, and a major newspaper in Portland. The distortions he broadcast weren’t being contradicted by anyone.
Bridget sighed. “If you don’t challenge him on these lies, the thousands and thousands of people who see him on TV will take what he says as gospel. I can’t believe you’re letting him get away with this.”
“Oh, this is nothing,” Brad replied. “I think Foley’s just warming up for now. The campaign hasn’t even started to get dirty yet.”
Bridget said nothing. She watched her brother retreat into the bathroom.
Brad had gained his popularity from endless personal appearances and word of mouth. The independent weeklies in Portland, Salem, and Eugene were behind him. It was only from the small press—along with several Internet sites—that people got the truth about Jim Foley.
While Foley was CEO of Mobilink, Inc., the company got away with violating dozens of ecological, safety, and antidiscrimination laws. Before caring so much about “our children” in his current ad campaign, Foley consistently rejected proposals for employee pregnancy-leave benefits and on-site day care facilities.
Under Foley’s regime, the company avoided paying any state or federal income taxes for four years—thanks to some crafty manipulations of their books. Certainly helping matters were Foley’s close ties to the current incumbent senator, Glen Eberhart. Foley had been a huge contributor in Eberhart’s last campaign. Foley had also used his media connections to downplay a scandal last year when Eberhart’s drug habit was uncovered. The senator, who suffered from chronic back pain and obesity, had been buying addictive painkillers and diet pills from a black market supplier for months. Foley’s press and Eberhart’s followers quickly forgave the senator for violations
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