The CNN anchor’s novel recreates a swampy political climate that feels eerily contemporary
Jake Tapper keeps busy.
The Hellfire Clubs synopsis reads as follows: Charlie Marder is an unlikely Congressman.
Tapper has exclusively shared an excerpt ofThe Hellfire Clubwith EW, which you could read below.
Credit: Corey Nickols/Contour; Hachette
Check it out, and pre-order the book ahead of its April 24 releasehere.
A wispy fog hovered; sporadic chirping came from nearby families of wrens rising with the sun.
A stone bridge and paved road lay in front of him.
Wincing with the effort, he hoisted himself onto his knees and turned.
Behind him, a semi-submerged Studebaker sat in the creeks muddy bank, its drivers door open.
He squinted and could just make out, downstream, the recently restored old Peirce Mill and its waterwheel.
How did I get here?
His voice was gravelly.
He stumbled as he tried to stand, and realized that he was drunk.
His mouth was parched.
Where had he been drinking?
And the glass contained absinthe.
This is how the French do it, Carlin said.
And from there the night went dark.
Looked back at the Studebaker.
Muddy tracks traced the cars path from the road to its final resting place on the riverbank.Okay.
I skidded off the parkway.This was a problem.
Maybe he could just walk away.
He didnt recognize the car, had no recollection of being behind the wheel.
Absinthe, he muttered under his breath.
He took stock of the situation.
This was not even a ripple in the ocean of atrocities hed witnessed in France during the war.
He was not a person of poor character.
And then he heard it: a low din, a cars motor heading toward him.
Ah, well, Charlie thought.Fate is making the decision for me.
Ill stand here and face whatever happens.He exhaled, steeling himself.
With relief, he recognized the spit-shined baby-blue Dodge Firearrow sport coupe.
It belonged to someone he knew, a friend, even: well-connected lobbyist Davis LaMontagne.
It was a car perfectly suited to its owner, glossy and stylish.
LaMontagne pulled the car to a stop at the side of the road and rolled down his window.
Charlie, he said, Jesus Christ.
Davis, Charlie said.
I have no idea He spread his arms to finish the sentence for him.
Before LaMontagne could respond, they heard a sound in the distance.
Unruffled, LaMontagne continued his approach and arrived at Charlies side.
Charlie was hit with a whiff of his smoky, woody cologne.
Are you all right?
Do you have any idea how I got here?
Last I saw you was at the party, LaMontagne said.
Then you made an Irish exit.
He raised his hand and made an elegant illustrative explosion with his fingertips: poof.
Thank God youre alive.
LaMontagne looked over his shoulder at the Studebaker.
Whose car is that?
Charlie suppressed a wave of nausea; when it passed, he rubbed his chin and shrugged.
I have no idea.
Sliding the keys into his pocket, he stood up straight and put a hand on Charlies shoulder.
Lets burn rubber, he said.
Halfway around the front of the car, the man suddenly stopped.
Through the windshield, Charlie saw him looking down at the narrow shoulder of the road.
Charlie, LaMontagne said, a seriousness in his baritone Charlie had never heard before.
you’re gonna wanna see this.
Blood had soaked through the back of her low-cut dress.
She had red hair and couldnt have been more than twenty-two.
Charlie had vague memories of her from the night before.Is she a cocktail waitress, maybe?
I didnt think anything of it before, but the passengerside door of that Studebaker is open.
Do you think she fell out of your car?
Fighting his rising anxiety, Charlie gingerly placed two fingers on the side of the womans neck.
She was porcelain pale and still.
Her eyes were closed, sealed by thick fake lashes.
Her body was cool to the touch.
He could feel no pulse.
He looked at LaMontagne and shook his head slowly.
Christ, said LaMontagne.
He squatted and put two fingers on the womans neck to see for himself.
Then on her wrist.
He hung his head briefly, then seemed to collect himself.
Charlie was numb, motionless.
LaMontagne looked at him with gravity and impatience.
Congressman, he said sharply.
