Second Thoughts and Last Chances
By
Latikia
Edited by
The Old Fart
Copyright © 2007,
2008
Chapter 36
We never did resolve the matter of my being good, great or evil. My heart told me that none of them were truly applicable. My mind continued to debate whether those labels could ever be used on someone like me.
The issues of accountability, responsibility, justice and freedom continued to haunt my thoughts for years after that night. The only thing I did come to terms with was my obsession with truth.
Is truth a property of sentences, which are linguistic entities, or is truth a property of propositions, which are nonlinguistic, abstract and timeless entities? Peggy was right when she concluded that it’s a problem of being clear and definitive about what you’re talking about when you say some claim or other is true.
There are several prominent theories relating to Truth, chief among them being Coherence, Correspondence, Deflationary, Pragmatic and the Semantic. Trust me, unless you’re the type of person who enjoys being confused and frustrated in the extreme, you do not want to delve too deeply into any of them.
For example: When we say that
The term truth-value was coined by
logicians as a nonspecific term for truth
or falsehood. To ask for the
truth-value of X, is to ask whether X is true or whether X is false. Value
in truth-value does not mean valuable. It’s used in a similar fashion
to numerical value as when we say
that the value of ‘x’ in ‘x + 5 = 9’ is 4.
To ask ‘What is the truth-value of the statement that
And that’s one of the more easily understood aspects of the various theories.
Ultimately, what I decided was that nothing was ever going to be true for everyone and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Philosophy just wasn’t my cup of tea. So instead of worrying about that, I shifted gears and worried instead about what I should wear to the White House.
The girls were more than happy to offer a multitude of suggestions, the least outlandish of which was showing up in my birthday suit.
Peggy said it would make one hell of a presidential photo-op, and the three girls proceeded to laugh themselves silly.
I was tempted to do it, if only to get back at them, but upon further reflection decided that the last thing I needed was the entire Secret Service on my payroll.
The morning of October 1st found me sitting at the breakfast table wearing a light gray suit and a black polo shirt. I’d left my pistols locked up in the pantry gun safe. Over the summer months I’d gotten out of the habit of wearing them, preferring instead my more innate abilities.
It had been a hectic summer and while I’d been busy working on my personal issues the rest of humanity continued plodding along their own paths.
On June 9th the Serbs signed an agreement to pull
troops out of Kosovo, but only after eleven weeks of air attacks by NATO
forces. Nelson Mandela retired as
president of
And just that morning,
As I said, busy, busy, busy. Somehow I’d always been under the impression that Fridays were supposed to be laid back, easy-going days.
Mine never seemed to be.
When I came thru the kitchen door AJ was busy entertaining his sisters by trying to get his cereal spoon to stick to the end of his nose, Lilly was bustling about, dropping off plates of toast and muffins, glasses of milk and pouring coffee for the adults, Izzy had her nose buried in the pages of a book and appeared to be completely unaware of the glass of orange juice she was holding in her left hand just inches from her mouth, and Peggy was staring absently out the window, her fork poking aimlessly at the scrambled eggs on the plate before her.
Lilly handed me a cup of steaming coffee and as I took my place at the table, bent down quickly and kissed me.
Rosie turned in her seat, laughing because AJ’s spoon had fallen from the end of his nose, landed dead center in his cereal bowl, and splashed him liberally with its contents.
“Daddy, are you old?” she asked with the eagerness and energy only young children are capable of at seven in the morning.
I blew lightly over the surface of my cup, took a sip and then set the cup down.
“I don’t think thirty-one is all that old honey. Why do you ask?”
“You don’t look old.”
“I don’t huh?”
“Uh-uh.” she said, shaking her head. “Janey Roberts said her daddy was twenty-seven and he looks a lot older than you.”
“Who is Janey Roberts?”
“A girl we met when mommy took us into town to go shopping.”
I looked up sharply and glanced around. Lilly slid her hand under my hair and tickled the back of my neck.
“Jeff and Sly went with us, to help carry the groceries.” she said quietly.
I relaxed and nodded my head. “Sorry.” I whispered.
Lilly chuckled, squeezed my neck and kissed me on the cheek. “You worry too much.”
“I know.”
I turned my attention back to Rosie, who was examining me with a curiously intense expression.
I smiled at her and slid my arm around Lilly’s waist. “You know who’s old? Your mom, she’s really old.”
Lilly punched me over the heart. “Don’t tell her that.”
Rosie grinned.
“Her birthday’s next month and then she’s gonna be ancient!” I deadpanned.
“Not so ancient that I can’t wear out your little-league butt.” she rasped, digging her nails into the side of my neck.
I inhaled sharply, nearly hissing. I could feel tiny electric vibrations emanating from each individual nail. I twisted my head around and looked up.
“You’re a feisty little senior citizen, aren’t’cha?”
“I’m not the one with all the white hair, junior.”
I pushed my chair back using just my legs, pulled Lilly down onto my lap and wrapped both arms securely around her. She struggled for a moment or two then relaxed and snuggled up against my chest.
I lowered my head, pressed my lips against hers and when the tip of her tongue emerged from between those lips, sucked it deep into my mouth.
When I pulled back for a breath of air, every eye was on us. I smiled at them.
“Can’t get enough of wrinkled old women.” I smacked my lips and squeezed Lilly like a stuffed animal. When she squeaked I eased my grip and she slipped away, moving around behind me.
“Mommy’s not wrinkled.” Rosie pointed out.
“No? You sure about that?”
“Yeah.”
I shrugged. “How ‘bout your Aunt Izzy? She’s almost the same age you know.”
Rosie looked over at her aunt, cocked her head and then shook it from side to side. “Nope, no wrinkles.” she announced.
“Well, what about Aunt Peggy? She’s older than all of us. She’s got to have a few wrinkles.”
Rosie looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Aunt Peggy looks even younger than you daddy.”
I smiled at her and winked. “Guess I’d better get my eyes checked, huh?”
Izzy put her book down, pushed away from the table, got up and walked over. She dropped down heavily onto my lap and plastered her lips over mine, running her fingers up into my hair and dragging her nails along my scalp.
I could feel vibrations from her lips and fingers as well. Tickling and tantalizing little shivers that made the surface of my skin quiver with delight.
Izzy broke our kiss and sat up straight. “Wrinkled and ancient, huh?”
My hand slid down over her hip and clamped tightly over one magnificent half of her sweet ass.
“What can I tell you? I just love antiques.”
Izzy smiled and patted my cheek a little harder than necessary, leaned forward and put her lips next to my ear.
“Stop being such a bastard. You know she’s sensitive about her age.” my sister whispered.
Izzy got up and returned to her place at the table, leaving my hand feeling awfully damn lonesome.
I looked over to where Peggy was studiously ignoring the rest of us; still poking away at her food and staring intently out the window as though it held the solutions to all her problems.
She was still pissed; at the girls for, as she saw it, forcing her to confront the inner me like they had, and me for a vast multitude of crimes, the least of which was being four years younger than her.
Peggy was morose, despondent, miffed, ticked off, perturbed, petulant, sulky, angry and sore…all at the same time and in nearly equal amounts. It was pretty damn impressive really. Most people can’t keep more than three strong simultaneous emotions working at one time.
I figured she was going to exhaust herself by mid-morning the way she was going.
“Hey squirt…how ‘bout a hug?”
She continued to ignore me. My smile faded away as I watched her closely. AJ stopped fooling around suddenly and turned his attention on me. Tink and Belle followed his gaze, becoming very quiet and attentive.
Izzy gave me a warning glance and Lilly put both hands on my shoulders, gently kneading the taut muscles below my neck.
I stood up abruptly, and Lilly’s hands slid off my shoulders and down my back. I moved quietly around the table to Peggy’s chair. With one hand on the back of her chair I pulled it away from the table and gave it a quarter twist.
Peggy dropped her fork on the floor and grabbed the seat to keep from falling off.
“If you won’t sit on my lap,” I said, dropping down “guess I’ll have to sit on yours.” I landed easy on her legs, supporting most of my weight with my thighs, calves and by resting my forearms on the back of her chair. Even so, I’m not a small man. Peggy got squashed.
She pounded my back and left side with her hands, groaning and screeching loudly.
“Get off of me, you big lummox!” she wailed.
The kids watched us with wide eyes and wider grins, encouraging Peggy and shouting suggestions on how to unseat me. Lilly had both hands clasped tightly over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. Izzy simply smiled and rolled her eyes in disbelief.
“Not till I get my hug.” I insisted, swiveling my hips and easing more and more of my weight onto Peggy’s slight frame.
Her left hand snaked down between my legs and formed a claw that clamped down over my balls, and a fair portion of my cock, with surprising strength.
“Get off me, stud-boy, or I’ll geld you right here and now.” she snarled.
I stopped moving and looked down into her upturned face.
“I dare you.” I said with a smile.
Peggy grimaced and then her hand increased its closing pressure. I opened a link between us that felt about two inches long and half a mile wide, and then smiled so sweetly that I thought I might develop diabetes on the spot.
“I double-dog-dare you.” I taunted gently, bent down and kissed the tip of her nose.
She glared furiously for several seconds then bellowed like an indignant cow, released my balls from the bear-trap of her hand and resumed pounding on my upper body.
“Getoff-getoff-getoff! You’re squashing me!” she whined piteously.
“Tell yah what,” I replied, “I’m feeling generous, so let’s compromise.”
Peggy stopped struggling, stopped hitting me and stopped whining. “Compromise?”
I nodded. “After I’m done at the White House I’m coming straight back here. I’ll call and give you plenty of time to get ready.”
“Ready for what?” she asked suspiciously.
“What I propose is this: you give me a hug now—and it has to be a real rib-cracker—and when I get home you and I will play a game of tag.”
“That’s your idea of a compromise?”
“Don’t you want to know what you get if you win?”
She snorted. “Okay, I’ll play along; what do I get if I win?” she mockingly asked.
“Anything your little heart desires.”
She stared up at me, trying to decide if I meant what she thought I did. “Anything?”
“Anything. Any-one-thing at all. If you want it and I can get it or give it, it’s yours.”
“No strings or conditions?”
“None.”
Lilly and Izzy looked at one another, some sort of silent information exchange going on between them that I couldn’t interpret.
“Can we play too Daddy?” AJ wanted to know.
“Yeah, Daddy, we want to play too!” Belle added, while Tink and Rosie nodded eagerly.
“Sorry guys, not this time. But,” I added, seeing and sensing their disappointment, “if you’ll wait till we’re done, we’ll all play…you guys, your moms and me. How ‘bout that?”
They perked right back up and agreed. I returned my attention to the little woman I was sitting on. “So, do we have a deal?”
Peggy was thinking hard. “What happens if you win?”
I grinned like a fiend. “Use your imagination.” then ducked my head and kissed her pouty lips.
Peggy threw her arms around my ribs and squeezed hard enough to cause a couple of them to shift out of alignment.
From outside the house there came the sound of helicopter blades thwocking with muted rapidity. My ride was on approach.
“Don’t forget your running shoes, squirt.” I gave Peggy a final squeeze before standing up.
“Ike,” Izzy asked as I headed towards the door that lead to dining room, “what about the President?”
I stopped with one hand flat against the door. Turning half way around, I looked back over my shoulder and shrugged.
“It depends on what he wants from me.” I smiled mischievously. “Who knows, this could just be his lucky day. I’m feeling…magnanimous.”
Eric was waiting beside the access door when the helicopter set down on the rooftop helipad. I thanked the pilot, got out and crouch-trotted towards my assistant.
“You’re not going to believe this!” he shouted to be heard over the roar of the helicopter blades and engine. The pilot was in the process of shutting it down, but it was still pretty damn loud.
“Believe what?” I shouted back as he opened the door and held it for me. I stepped inside; Eric followed and shut the door securely behind him.
“There’s a Secret Service detail parked out front. They’re here to take you to the White House.”
I raised an eyebrow. “They must think I wouldn’t be able to find the place on my own.”
Eric chuckled. “What do you want to do?”
“Well, I’m tempted to ignore the free ride, but that would reflect rather badly on the department.”
“From what I’ve picked up on the grapevine the last couple of months, I don’t think there’s much you could do that would reflect badly on the department.”
“How’s that?”
“The only cabinet level organizations that have less than a kind word for us these days are HUD, Interior, Energy and Education.”
I snorted. “They’re the only ones I haven’t visited.”
“Perhaps they feel slighted?” Eric suggested sardonically.
We bypassed our floor and went straight down to ground level. On the way Eric filled me in on world-wide current events and the overnight flow classified information between various agencies.
We stepped out of the elevator, walked down the corridor to the lobby and passed unchallenged thru the security barriers.
I looked out thru the expanse of glass doors and saw three white vehicles parked directly in front. Two large men in dark suits and sunglasses flanked the leading and trailing vehicles, while a uniformed chauffeur stood attentively by the rear passenger side door.
“Good luck sir.” Eric offered a wry smile before turning around and retreating back into the depths of the building.
I pushed open one of the glass doors, stepped out into the morning sunlight and made a bee-line for the chauffeur.
The man’s professional demeanor was impressive; he contained his surprise and unease very well. I don’t think anyone bothered to tell him what to expect. Hell, there might not have been anyone there who knew for certain what I looked like. Until that summer I’d gone out of my way to keep as low a public profile as I possibly could.
“Doctor Blacktower?” he inquired.
I smiled and nodded. “The one and only.”
The four standing Secret Service agents converged on us from my left and right.
“Pardon me sir, but would you mind showing us your ID?” the shortest of the four, on my right hand side, asked politely.
“Sure.” I reached slowly into my inner coat pocket, removed the small leather folding case and handed to him, along with the invitation I’d received.
He examined them closely for about twenty seconds and then returned them to me.
“Are you armed sir?” he asked almost off-handedly.
“Not today.”
He shifted his eyes to one of the men on my left, who responded with a curt gesture. I’d been scanned with a small hand held metal detector and I wasn’t supposed to let on that I knew.
“Thank you Doctor.” he said and nodded to the chauffeur. The man opened the rear door and held it while I climbed in. The four agents returned to their vehicles and within thirty seconds we were on our way.
I fully expected to be dropped off unceremoniously at whatever passed for the servant’s entrance. Imagine my surprise when we passed the East Wing Visitor’s entrance, continued around the back of the building and came to a stop before the North Portico.
The chauffeur hustled around the front of the vehicle and opened the door. As I was getting out I glanced around, getting my first look at the back side of the White House.
It looks pretty big in pictures and on TV. In person it’s much more impressive, which I suppose was part of the original design concept.
From the front, or south, it appears to be a three story building, but from the back, or north side, you can tell that there’s actually a lower level. I also have it on very good authority that there’s even a sub basement level, but very few people outside the household staff even know about it. We were on the ground level directly above, or so the chauffeur informed me, the bowling alley.
Eight Secret Service Agents poured out of the vehicles in front and behind the one I’d been in and quickly flanked me four to a side.
“This way Doctor.” the man I’d shown my ID to said, indicating that I was to climb the Portico steps.
I looked up past the brief, gradual incline and saw a small figure standing just inside the recessed door, flanked on one side by a tall woman in a dark pantsuit. With a faint smile on my lips I took the four stairs with two leisurely paces, four of the Secret Service agents forming a box around me, while at the same time keeping a respectful distance. I assume the other four remained behind with the vehicles.
When I reached the top step and moved towards the entryway, the small figure stepped out and extended a hand in greeting.
Pretty much everyone in the world knew what the First Lady
looked like. I remember seeing footage
of her when she and her husband first came to
She’d gained weight, lost much of the vibrancy, and looked weary. No, weary isn’t strong enough…she looked exhausted.
“Doctor Blacktower, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Well…that was about the most blatant lie I’d ever come
across, in or outside of
I must have come as quite a shock to her, because when our hands clasped her eyelids, which had been sleepily lowered in what felt to me like poorly concealed boredom, sprang wide open.
“Thank you for the invitation, ma’am.” I rumbled softly, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.
She’d probably gone thru that welcoming charade hundreds of times before, and doubtless had the routine down pat; say the words, make the appropriate gestures and noises at the right times and then get on with the rest of your day/night/week.
And the routine had probably worked well enough for her in the past. But she’d only been dealing with heads of state and ambassadors on those other occasions.
It probably sounds terribly conceited, as well as unbelievably egotistical, but I think I’m safe in saying that she’d never met anyone like me before.
The surprise in her eyes couldn’t even compare to what she was feeling internally. She stared at my face for nearly eight seconds without blinking once. Then her eyes ran down my body and back up again, which took another ten seconds or so. In all that time she made no effort whatsoever to take her hand out of mine.
The tall woman behind and to her left finally cleared her throat loudly, snapping the First Lady’s trance. She reluctantly withdrew her hand, blushing faintly behind her expertly applied makeup.
“Excuse me, Doctor. You’re not quite what I was expecting.” she said coolly.
I smiled at the woman and nodded. “That’s quite alright, ma’am. I come as a surprise to just about everyone.”
She smiled thinly and turned on her heel, waving one arm in the direction of the open doors behind her. Side by side we entered the White House, followed behind by the tall woman and two of the four Secret Service agents who’d been assigned to escort me.
“The President will join us shortly. He’s meeting with a few advisors in the West Wing at the moment.”
“The business in
“You know about that, do you?” she asked, mildly irritated.
“I learned of it two days ago. My job requires that I pay attention to all incoming and outgoing classified message traffic. Chances are I knew of those troop movements before any of the Joint Chiefs.”
We moved thru the Entrance Hall, out into the Cross Hall, turned west and walked briskly to the far end and then made an abrupt right turn. I wasn’t getting the nickel tour. The First Lady was in a hurry to get wherever it was we were going.
We passed thru a smaller pair of doors and entered a small hall with a flight of stairs before us and an elevator on our right. The First Lady punched the button for the elevator, which opened right away and the five of us filed in.
The elevator went down to the ground level and we all filed back out, turned right and ended up in the lower level Center Hall, which was much longer, and a bit wider than the Cross Hall directly above.
The First Lady lead off to the right, me on her left and the three Secret Service agents close on our heels.
“My husband is quite an admirer of yours Doctor.” she announced unexpectedly.
“Not you though.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at me. “What makes you say that?”
I smiled. “I’m pretty good at reading people. Another job requirement.”
She pursed her lips, nodded to herself and then continued marching down the hall.
“I do not share his admiration.” she admitted belatedly, and unnecessarily. “In fact, I strenuously opposed inviting you here.”
“So you lied when you said you were looking forward to meeting me?”
One of the agents behind us sucked air between their teeth fast enough to generate a shrill whistle.
The First Lady chuckled. “I was being diplomatic.”
She took us quickly into the Palm Room whereupon we made a sharp left and exited thru the double doors nearest the corner. Our little parade worked its way along the West Colonnade, turned left at the corner and filed thru the second door on the right, which was the only one in view that was actually open.
“Welcome to the Cabinet Room, Doctor. Please, take a seat.” the First Lady said with more grace than she was feeling.
I stood inside the doorway and swiveled my head from side to side with a slow sweeping motion.
Like most people, I’d seen pictures in the paper and short clips on TV of this room; shots of the President surrounded by his cabinet officials and other senior advisors. It always looked, at least to me, as though the long table was far too large for the room’s inner dimensions. But, like most things connected with the White House, looks were deceiving. The room was really quite spacious, and the table didn’t occupy nearly as much area as I’d supposed.
My guess was that whenever those pictures and film clips were shot, they’d crammed as many people into the room as possible. Made me wonder why they bothered though.
The First Lady pulled out the chair at the head of the table nearest our entry point and eased herself into it, twisting around on the rolling casters so that she could see the doors along the east wall.
Our Secret Service escorts took up positions along that east wall, with the exception of the tall woman who remained three steps behind the First Lady’s left shoulder.
After I finished my examination of the room I pulled out the chair closest to the First Lady and sat down heavily with my back to the door and the Secret Service agents who lined the wall.
We sat there for a long, silent three minutes, neither one of us speaking. Her eyes wandered from time to time towards the single open doorway before returning to the fingers of her right hand, which drummed sporadically against the surface of the table top.
After five minutes of silence, broken only by occasional murmurs and brief low pitched muttering from the Secret Service personnel, her eyes snapped up and locked on mine. I’d felt the abrupt shifting of her emotions and was ready; waiting for our eyes to meet, waiting for her to speak.
She was mildly taken aback to find me calmly watching her.
“Deloris was a good friend of mine.” she said in a tone that sounded like chilled venom.
I lifted my right eyebrow but said nothing.
“She worked long and hard to get to here.”
I lowered my eyebrow and shrugged slightly.
“Sorry, you’re going to have to give me something a bit more specific to go on.”
“It’s not easy for a woman to get anywhere in politics, not even these days. It was even harder twenty years ago when she first came to the Senate.”
The light clicked on and when it did a faint, cruel smile crept across my lips.
“Ahhhhhh…so that’s what’s got your panties in a bunch.”
Her face paled in a flash of indignation. The tall woman behind her took two steps forward.
I snapped my eyes off the First Lady and glared into the sunglass shielded eyes of the female agent behind her, linked and slapped a ring deep into her without even thinking about it.
“As you were!” I barked in my best parade ground voice. The agent stiffened, came to attention and returned to her post.
I looked back at the President’s wife. Indignation had been replaced by awe, desire and a mild layer of fearful anxiety. Her fingers continued their drumming, but went from a spastic and erratic beat to something approaching the sound of muffled automatic weapon’s fire.
“So—Deloris Gottschalk was your good friend. I wonder, would the two of you have been such good pals if you weren’t members of the same Party?”
“You forced her to resign.” she accused me with real heat.
I smiled; a real, genuine smile of amusement.
“The last I heard she was having a pretty good time in
“I know you did it.” she insisted.
“Where you there the day she signed her letter of
resignation? I was, and I’m pretty sure
I’d remember if the First Lady had been around.
You know what I think? I think
that someone who was there convinced
you I was responsible.” I shrugged once again.
“And what if I was? Let’s say,
just for the sake of argument, that I did somehow force the senior Senator from
She glared at me for a few additional seconds before her harsh expression melted away and she slumped back in her chair.
“You’re not the ‘virtual nobody’ you want people to believe you are.”
I nodded encouragingly. “Any first year poly-sci major could have come to that conclusion. But I’ll give you a ‘C’ for trying. Anything else?”
“Many things. How long have you been in Washington Doctor?”
“Now you’re stalling.
You know how long I’ve been at the CIA.
You’re probably even aware of the circumstances that brought me to
The woman visibly collected herself, sat up taller, straightened her dark pin-stripped jacket and smirked. All of a sudden she appeared and felt much more in control of herself and her surroundings.
“I’m aware of much more than that, Doctor.”
I leaned back in my seat and smiled warmly. “Were you as tight with Wilma Mortenson as you were with Gottschalk?” I asked.
The First Lady’s sense of control and her composure vanished.
“The reason I ask is because Mortenson also had this strange conceit. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about being a Senator that makes people, especially Senators, believe they’ve got more than a double digit IQ. It also tends to make them think they can do or say anything they like and not be held accountable.”
I felt three new bundles of emotions approaching at a quick pace.
“I knew Senator Mortenson, but only professionally, and that was some time before her unfortunate breakdown.” the First Lady admitted. “I’ll tell you something I do know quite a bit about. I know about your women.” she snapped, tossing out what she must have thought of as a truly damning bit of information. I smiled in return.
I’d been smiling a lot that day. Not that I actually felt like smiling, but it seemed preferable to maiming.
“That’s nice. They’ll be pleased to hear you know about them. It might surprise you to learn that two of my girls voted for your husband.”
“Only two?” a lilting, jovial, mid-west accented voice asked from behind me. The First Lady’s face went immobile, her features slackened into a relaxed expression of intense neutrality.
I swung my legs around slowly to the right, rotated my chair and stood up smoothly.
The President was a big man, a little shorter than me but
about the same weight. His shoulders
were narrower, his waist much larger, even though his suits were tailored to
hide that fact. His green eyes were
sunken, nearly obscured by puffy cheeks and eyelids, his normally ruddy
complexion looked a tad waxen and up close I could see the age and worry lines
that seven years in the office had bestowed on the man. Most of the sandy brown hair he’d had when he
first came to
“Sixty-six percent ain’t bad.” I said, ready to shake his hand, but curiously enough he didn’t offer his.
“You didn’t vote for me, did you Doctor?” the man asked.
I shook my head. “I make it a rule never to vote for an incumbent.”
The President pulled out the chair next to the one I’d been sitting in and dropped down as his escorts too up positions on either side of the doorway, shutting it quietly.
“I wasn’t the incumbent in ’92.” he pointed out.
“I am aware of that.”
“You didn’t vote for me then either, did you?”
“No.”
“Mind if I ask why not?”
“Not if you don’t mind me saying what I think.”
“It’d be a refreshing change of pace from what I usually get around here.”
I smiled regretfully. Well, he asked for it.
“I didn’t believe you. You deliver a good speech, and the ‘aw shucks’ good ole boy act is convincing enough, but where you really lost me was when you started tossing around that ‘I feel your pain’ line.”
He smiled, just barely.
“Sit down, Doctor.” He waited till I’d returned to my seat and then knocked his knuckles on the desk top. “Most people appreciate having someone around who knows what they’re going thru, someone who sympathizes with their situation.”
My smile died slowly. “No, most people want others to feel sorry for them. It lets them off the hook, emotionally speaking. If people feel sorry for you, then whatever’s wrong must not be your fault and you’re not responsible. You are currently one of the leading figures in what’s become a cult of socially enabled victimization.”
I noticed the puzzled expression on his face and took pity on the man.
“I’m not suggesting that it’s your fault. After all, you didn’t originate the idea, but you have done a fair amount over the past decade to propagate the message. No, this touchy-feely, let’s not dent anyone’s self-esteem crap has been on the rise since the end of the Second World War. But your generation has done more to develop and encourage the movement than any other. Your generation, sociologists and my second profession.”
The President eyeballed me for a few seconds. “You don’t mince words, do you young man?”
I shrugged. “I’m not a politician or a diplomat Mr. President. My job description does not include kissing ass. You don’t want to hear my opinion then you shouldn’t ask for it.”
“You know, when I first came to the White House, my predecessor warned me about you. He told me that you once refused to accept the Medal of Honor, and that he had to, more or less, shove it down your throat. Is that true?”
I nodded. The First Lady, who’d been silent since the President had entered the room, spoke up.
“I thought all men wanted medals and glory.” Her emphasis on the final word was accompanied by a feeling of derogatory denigration.
I turned my head toward her and gave the woman a disparaging look. “It’s about the same ratio as college women who’re looking for wealthy husbands. Taking into account your political affiliation, as well as the time period you grew up in, your opinion of military men comes as no great surprise. The simple truth is that, for most of us, staying alive was far more important, and infinitely more rewarding. Yes, I got some medals. Big deal. What good are they? I can’t eat the damn things, or pay the rent with them. They won’t keep me warm in the winter or keep me from getting sick or old. And as I recall, the subject of glory didn’t come up even once during my time in boot camp. No, the way I remember it, the credo was duty, loyalty, honor, courage…and pussy.” I frowned briefly. “In the female units I suppose it would have been duty, loyalty, honor courage and cock. But there may have been some divided interests on both sides, so my evaluation may not be as comprehensive as I’d like, but its pretty close.”
The First Lady glared daggers at me.
“Interesting.” the President said with barely contained mirth. I turned my head back toward him. “You know, your name has come up around this table more than a few times in the past couple of years.”
I broke into a grin. “Has it really? I can’t imagine why.”
“Back in March there were no fewer than seven of my cabinet
secretaries demanding your head on a platter.
Three of them went so far as to suggest you be arrested and locked up in
I nodded my understanding. “There’s nothing like success for breeding fear and discontent in the incompetent.”
The President chuckled. “Or arrogance in the successful.”
“Touché.” I agreed easily.
“Do you know why I refused to shut you down?” he asked.
“Not really. But if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say you wanted them worrying about me, rather than focusing on…other issues?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Partly true, but only partly. There’s no denying that your department has been highly effective. Even your staunchest detractors grant you that much. But as you say, success breeds fear, and many of my senior advisors were worried that you might be trying to expand the scope of your operation far beyond its original intent.”
I nodded my head fractionally. “When I first went to work for Dr. Wills I accepted the limitations of the job. But over time I’ve come to realize that no matter how well I do my job it just isn’t going to be good enough. I can keep the CIA as clean as a freshly scrubbed floor, but only the CIA. You have no idea how much that’s been bugging me. And when congress went and hit me with those damn restraining orders, well…it got me thinking; and not the kinds of thoughts you want your spy catcher thinking. Even so, I did my job and stayed in my own back yard. Right up until I found a longtime spy smack dab in the middle of the FBI late last year.”
“Dr. Wills told me you weren’t always so careful about staying on the reservation.”
“Not always, but that was back before I officially went to work for Internal Security. This year I’m afraid circumstances dictated I either hop the fence or shut the operation down. I offered my resignation to the Senate sub-committee, as I’m sure you know. They decided not to accept, at which point I felt free to, shall we say, do a little exploring.”
“That would explain the sudden demands to get rid of you. The question currently on my mind though is how did all these people, most of whom wanted you locked up and the key thrown away, all of a sudden become your fan club?”
“Perhaps they’ve come to realize that I’m only trying to do what’s best for everyone.”
The First Lady smirked and the President shook his head.
“I doubt that very much. I’m told that you even managed to get the IRS’s auditors to reverse themselves. I’d love to know how you pulled that off.”
“I just pointed out that they’d made an error in judgment. Once they acknowledged the mistake they were more than happy to reassign their auditors to other cases.”
“Riiiight.” the President drawled.
I let my smile fade. “I’m not J. Edgar Hoover. I don’t keep secret files on anyone in your administration and I don’t need to blackmail people in order to get them to do their jobs.”
“You expect us to believe that?” the First Lady demanded.
“Believe whatever the hell you want.” I replied coldly. “I don’t really give a shit.”
The President rocked back and forth in his chair; his eyes never left my face.
“This place doesn’t impress you a whole lot, does it?”
I shrugged. “It’s just a building.”
“Sitting next to the President doesn’t impress you either?” he said. It might have sounded like a question, but it wasn’t and we both knew it.
“No.” I said reasonably.
“Think you could do my job better, don’t you?”
His question came out of left field, and it didn’t sound quite right. Sort of out of tune; something of a non sequitur.
I laughed. Not a big belly laugh, but an easy, relaxed laugh filled with genuine amusement.
They, the people in that room, didn’t understand what it was I found so funny. Why would they? Their lives, their livelihoods, were dependent on not finding it funny. They had to take it seriously. Life and death and world affairs—oh my!
I held up a hand to forestall the man’s indignant retort.
“Not to belittle your life’s work or anything, but yeah, I could.”
He leaned forward and squared his shoulders. “You’re not much more than a kid, Doctor. What makes you think you could run a country?”
I grinned. “Come on, you don’t run a country, you head a federal government. There is a difference. Congress and the bureaucrats run the government, not you and not your Cabinet appointees. Honestly, what do you suppose the degree of difficulty is in being a professional figurehead? From where I sit, there’s no real difference between you, the UN Secretary General, the Queen of England or Nike’s current talking head.”
“There’s a big damn difference!” the President insisted.
“Like what? No, wait; let me guess: Commander in Chief, right? You could, in theory, launch the nukes.”
He glowered and nodded his stylishly coiffed head.
I shrugged. “Big deal. Whichever idiot the electorate puts in the office can do the same thing. Sorry, still not impressed.” I leaned forward, put my right elbow on the table, put my chin in the palm of my hand and stared at the man. “You know, what I can’t quite figure out is why it should matter. What difference does it make if I’m impressed or not? You want to impress me, try showing some reasoned common sense; pass some useful laws, cut out the pork and get rid of the goddamned party National Committees.”
The President sat back in his chair and smiled. “What makes you think you matter?”
“Please…I didn’t just drop by to say hi, remember?” I dropped my hand and sat up abruptly. All the Secret Service agents flinched. The First Lady flinched. The President flinched.
I chuckled. “I rest my case. So—wanna tell me now why you asked me here? I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with desiring the pleasure of my company, or my sparkling repartee and rapier-like wit, so can we please move on to whatever it is?”
The President shook his head from side to side. “Goddamn you’re an irritating son of a bitch.”
“Like I said before, I’m not a diplomat or a politician. I hunt spies, I catch spies and, when necessary, I kill spies. It’s an irritating line of work. You want someone to brighten up the joint; I’ll give you the number for the department of Fun and Games.”
He glared at me for a count of ten, exhaled loudly and slapped one hand down flat on the table top.
“There’s a leak here in the White House.” he said at last.
I raised my right eyebrow. “No! Really, a leak in the White House?” I said laying on the sarcasm as thickly as I knew how. No point being subtle with these folks; their sense of the absurd was pretty well dead and buried.
“This is no joking matter. For the past four months classified information has been regularly leaked to the press, compromising some rather sensitive operations, and it’s got to stop.”
I stood up and pushed my chair back. “Call the FBI, or have the Secret Service assign a special investigator.”
“We tried that and came up empty. The Attorney General recommended you.”
“That’s very flattering, but the answer is no.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because this is political and my department doesn’t get involved in politics.”
“You slapped down the IRS quick enough.”
I cocked my head slightly, stared at the man for a couple of seconds and then barred all my teeth.
“I wouldn’t have had to if your wife hadn’t used her influence with the Finance committee to set them on me in the first place.”
The President’s eyes opened wide for the first time. He hadn’t known she’d been the one pushing the IRS in my direction. What else wasn’t he aware of?
I turned my attention to the First Lady, grinned malevolently at her for a few seconds then licked my lips with exaggerated care.
What big teeth you
have Grandma…
“You should be very careful choosing your enemies. Gottschalk and Mortenson weren’t, and look what it got them.”
She paled and her breathing became shallow and erratic.
The
better to rip your fat fuckin’ double chin throat out
with, my dear.
I turned back to the President.
“The answer is no.”
“I’m not asking, Doctor.”
I crossed my arms across my chest and looked down at the seated man.
“Well, if you put it that way…the answer is fuck no!”
“You’re refusing an official request from the Chief Executive?”
“Yup.”
He sighed loudly. “What do you want?”
I rolled my head to the right and smiled. “There’s nothing I want that you can give me. More to the point, there’s nothing I want that I can’t get on my own.”
We stared at each other for a while longer.
“You won’t reconsider?”
“Not unless you can come up with a more convincing argument.”
He stared at me. I stared back. Neither of us blinked or changed expression.
Then he smiled and nodded, slapped his hand down hard on the table top and waved the other in the direction of the Secret Service agents who’d come in with him.
“Bring ‘em up.” the President ordered, still looking at me.
One of the men unlocked the door he was standing beside, opened it and stepped out.
“Wills said you were stubborn as a
I smiled faintly. “Dr. Wills is a perceptive man.”
The President stood and began pacing.
“A few weeks ago I had an epiphany. Came to me right out of the blue and I couldn’t get it out of my head. So I started talking to various people around town, and one or two from elsewhere, kinda putting flesh on the bones, know what I mean? And now I’d like to hear what you think of my idea.”
I smiled and said nothing. I’m sure he thought I was humoring him.
“I’m going to appoint you Inspector General of the
My smile melted slowly and I sat up stiffly, both hands gripping the chair’s armrests.
I couldn’t believe my ears. I had to have heard wrong.
“What exactly would this job entail?” I asked softly.
“In effect, you’d be the sole arbiter, the ultimate oversight authority, for the entire federal government.”
Fuck me!
He was offering me, on a silver platter, the very thing I’d been working towards for the better part of the year. He was going to put the government into my hands. Of his own free will. Could he even do that? I mean, I knew he could create the office…Eisenhower had created the Department of Internal Security…but could this President realistically, legally, give it the kind of authority he was promising?
I thought about it a while and decided that he could; as long as Congress and the Supreme Court let him. And if those two august bodies refused the President I’d bet my left nut they wouldn’t refuse me…not if I asked real nice.
Has he lost his tiny fucking mind?
I could feel the temperature around me grow colder. I shook my head, relaxed my grip on the armrests, slouched down in the chair and crossed my right leg over my left knee.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” I asked.
“Not at all. Too often in the past various agencies have brought the business of government to a near standstill because of internecine conflict. People in Congress used to be able to disagree and then get together on the issues the really mattered. But these days we’re no longer expected to accomplish anything other than advancing our party’s positions, goals and aspirations for the specific individuals and constituencies we represent.
“The fact is that they, the two Parties, lost control of the
political process about forty years ago.
Hell, who am I kidding; we gave it away.
When TV came along and opened the process up to the public, that’s when
it all started. The only thing better
than getting your picture on the front page was getting two minutes on the
evening news. Even so, matters didn’t
really get out of hand until
“And being human, we politicians are no better than anybody else in this regard. We used to have friends on the opposite side of the aisle. We’d argue and disagree, but when it was important, when it mattered, we could put aside our differences, debate the issues, compromise and get things done. Now…the civility is gone and all that matters is raising money and getting your face on the tube or in the papers so you can get elected or re-elected. We shout and scream at one another, slam and bad-mouth each other in the press and try to out-do everyone around us in pointless and frivolous allocation of the taxpayer’s money. We can’t get anything important or worthwhile done anymore. Gridlock, deadlock, filibuster and burying bills in committee.
“And that’s where the Inspector General, where you, would come into the picture. You would be the court of final appeal. As Inspector General, you’d have the power and authority to resolve all federal conflicts, to ensure and enforce the orderly operation of any and all government agencies. There should be one person with perspective who’ll step in when necessary to make sure we as a nation don’t lose sight of what’s important; someone with a clear vision of where this country needs to go, and a plan for how to get there.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. What about the American Revolution? What about Patrick Henry, Tom Paine, Nathan Hale and George Washington…freedom from tyrants; give me liberty or give me death; lives, fortunes and sacred honor…and all the rest of that propagandist bullshit my teachers had shoveled into my head when I was in grade school?
It didn’t make any damn sense. The man had to be crazy.
A burst of negative emotions flared on my right and I turned my head.
The First Lady had a nasty smirk on her face.
And that set me off.
“You’re out of your tiny fucking mind.” I uncoiled out of my seat like a snake striking in slow motion. “Do you really want to turn this country into a goddamned absolute monarchy? Or a dictatorship? Because that’s precisely what you’re proposing.”
The President stepped up beside me and damn near whispered in my ear. “You’re right—it would be…if I made the offer to anyone but you.”
I turned my head and looked him in the eye.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” he said.
I could not
believe what I was hearing. He wanted to
give me the country. He wanted to make me the de facto King of the
Hold out your hands Doctor…thwappp! Here ya go, your very own country. Now take it outside and play…that’s a good little tyrant.
What’s the difference between a fascist, a dictator, an autocrat and an absolute monarch?
Spelling and perception. That’s it. There’s no real, practical difference.
What the hell was the guy thinking? I wished I knew, but I didn’t. I can’t read minds.
Emotionally, the man was pretty calm and composed. Oh, he wasn’t laid-back night out with the boys relaxed; there was a little unease and anxiousness evident on the surface level, but that was about it. He meant every word he’d said.
“Power corrupts…” I said faintly.
“Yeah-yeah, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. But this job, it’s not even remotely like absolute power…is it? And like you said, I’m not offering anything here that you couldn’t get for yourself, if you wanted it, am I Doctor?” he asked in a hushed voice.
“How can you be sure I wouldn’t abuse the position?”
He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, then jerked it back suddenly, as if he’d been shocked or burnt. His eyes opened wide and I saw awe and amazement reflected there.
“Oh, I’m sure. I’ve had a few long talks with your old boss this year. Dr. Wills is sure. I’ve gone so far as to consult with a respected DC psychiatrist on the matter. You might know him. Evan DeBerg is sure.” He brought his hand up and flexed his thick fingers. “Lord and Lady Malcolm Rhys-Jones both speak very highly of you. Very highly. You might not realize it Doctor, but over the years you’ve impressed a lot of the folks that work in this town; including a few we consider our enemies. Most don’t like you one little bit, but one thing they all have in common is a healthy respect for the job you’ve been doing. Every one of them says you’re stubborn, opinionated, annoying, loyal, thoughtful, direct and about as incorruptible as any man can be. But in my opinion the one factor that eminently qualifies you for the job, especially considering your unique talent, is that you don’t want it.”
I blinked. He knew too much, knew too many names, knew too many of the right buttons to push. I linked with the President and crawled inside. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as his entire body shook and shuddered.
The Secret Service agents began moving towards us from all directions. The President flung out the hand he’d been flexing and waved them back.
“It’s okay, I’m fine. Stay where you are.” The agents grudgingly returned to their positions.
Well…
Imagine my surprise.
He really could feel their pain. Well, a little bit anyway.
The President was an empath. Not a very strong one but, based on what I sensed from inside his body, he could link by touching another person. Possibly a little stronger than Dr. Wills, but not even close to Peggy, and light years separated him from me; receiving was all he could do. No projecting, no amplification, no fire, lightning, explosions or turning blue and from the look of the man and his wife, no healing or prolonged youth either.
Lucky bastard.
“Doctor, your country needs you.”
Maybe it did, and maybe it didn’t. But what about what I needed?
“I don’t want anything to do with what you’re offering.” I said flatly.
He nodded. “I understand that, and I appreciate your position. If I were in your shoes, I don’t think I would either. At least I hope I wouldn’t.
“Doctor, look at it this way; Thomas Jefferson believed that
ordinary people with sufficient education and strong morals could govern
themselves wisely, that liberty was the natural desire of all mankind, and that
the world's monarchs and dictators would ultimately be overthrown. Alexander Hamilton, on the other hand,
claimed that
“Hamilton and Jefferson were both deeply affected by the
Enlightenment’s emphasis on reason, but
I blinked slowly. “I don’t know how to fix the nation’s problems.” I told him.
“There are plenty of folks around with limitless ideas on how to go about fixing things. Your job would be to make sure those ideas got a fair hearing, that no reasonable suggestion was eliminated or excluded for purely political reasons. You could make sure that the ambitions of individuals never took precedence over the welfare of the nation as a whole. You could ensure we do what’s necessary and not waste our time and effort in pointless bickering and backstabbing.”
“What you want is a father.”
He smiled brightly. “Yes Doctor. That’s precisely what I want. I’m asking you to be this nation’s father.”
I shook my head. “I have four children of my own, and the one thing I’ve learned from being a father is that I can’t protect them from themselves.”
“I’m not asking you to protect us, merely offer guidance and support, and when necessary, discipline. I’m a parent myself, and I understand only too well the limitations we face. It’s a difficult, thankless and onerous job, but essential despite all the pitfalls.”
I exhaled softly. “The government might not survive my idea of discipline.”
“Deloris Gottschalk certainly didn’t.” the First Lady snapped. The President jerked his eyes in her directions and glowered at her.
I chuckled half-heartedly. “Gottschalk got off light. She could just as easily have ended up like Senator Crawford.”
“As opposed to Hochweiler and Urbany you mean?” the President asked slyly.
I nodded. “I’ve put up with a lot from the morons who poppulate this town, but I will not tolerate anyone who thinks they can use, threaten or attack my family.” I turned my head and looked down meaningfully at the First Lady. “Gottschalk got off easy because she only threatened me. Senator Mortenson attacked my girls.” I smiled coldly. “Don’t even think about coming after my family unless you’re damn sure I’m dead and buried.”
The President’s wife looked up at him, a fierce and angry expression on her middle aged face. “This is the man you intend to hand the country over to? He’s no better than one of those tin-pot Central American tyrants. He couldn’t be diplomatic if his life depended on it, and probably doesn’t even understand what compromise means.”
I barked out a laugh.
“You’re right about the diplomacy. Then again, I’ve never actually felt the need to be diplomatic. As for compromise, I understand it quite well; I’ve lived with three strong willed women for going on nine years. But I compromise when it suits me, not because I have to. I didn’t shut down Hochweiler and Urbany by using diplomacy or compromise. I walked in and suggested that they all go find other things to do with their lives. Same thing with Gottschalk. I suggested that she might want to consider retirement.” Then I grinned hotly at the First Lady.
“I’ve never needed, or wanted, to be a diplomat…don’t have the patience. But I’m very good at making suggestions.”
“That’s all I’m asking you to do now.” the President insisted once again, his tone relaxed and reasonable.
I gave his wife a slow wink before turning my attention back on her husband. “That’s not all you’re asking me to do, and you bloody well know it!” I rasped. He took a half step back.
“You’re asking me to assume responsibility for every fucking thing the government does. To be responsible for the country.” I took a deep breath. “I kinda thought that was the President’s job.”
He nodded. “Ideally, it is. But the only way an elected President could ever realistically do that, at least now-a-days, would be by assuming power and control that no single human being should have. That’s how despots are created.”
The emphasis on human being did not escape my notice. In fact it sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the abrupt drop in room temperature I also felt.
“This entire conversation is insane. For starters, assuming I was foolish enough to agree to your proposal, there’s no way the existing senate and congressional leadership would allow it. And the Supreme Court would have you in their cross hairs as soon as they got a whiff of what you were up to. Impeachment would be the least of your worries.”
The man grinned like a little kid with a secret he couldn’t wait to tell someone.
I felt a mass of turbulent emotions headed towards us.
There was a loud knocking and the agent next to the door turned and opened it.
“Come in everyone; please, take your seats.” the President said grandly. A long line of men and women filed in and sat down around the table.
Some of them I recognized; the Senate majority and minority leaders, the Speaker of the House, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Secretary of State, Attorney General, Secretary of Defense, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs…the rest I’d never seen before.
The President backed further away from my side, still flexing his fingers. I cut the link between us as the Secret Service agent shut and locked the door behind the final figure, the Vice President.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d like to formally introduce Dr. Ike Blacktower. Dr. Blacktower, for those of you who haven’t already met him, is the current Deputy Director of Internal Security at the CIA.”
I scanned the men and women sitting around the table. A couple of them had rings. It was the ones who didn’t that I was interested in.
They were anxious, fearful, doubtful…
Some were smiling, some were pensive, some were fretful and a couple were just downright unhappy. But there wasn’t an apathetic or disinterested one in the bunch.
“I’ve been explaining our proposed change to the Doctor, but he has expressed some reservations.”
“Reservations my ass!” I snarled sitting back down. “More like out and out incredulity.”
“You doubt our sincerity in this matter?” the Chief Justice asked. He looked as though he’d been recently embalmed. Cadaverous would have been too generous a term to use in describing the man. But behind the thick glasses he wore his eyes sparkled with intelligence and an intense life force.
“No. I doubt your collective sanity.”
He chortled weakly. “Young man, our system of government was created on the fly by a handful of men with very different concepts of how a government should operate. The system they ultimately agreed upon was, at best imperfect, and at worst barely tolerable. If they were to try such a thing in this day and age, it would be manifestly impossible. There are far too many people with too many differing viewpoints, and an equal number of conflicting agendas. Our founding fathers had a couple of things going for them that we do not: their elected officials were predominantly all of the same social class; therefore they shared common interests and goals. They also had the advantage of time. They lacked the technology we take for granted, things like automobiles, planes, phones, radio, television, satellites, computers …all the gadgets and gizmos that have continuously increased the pace of our daily lives. They had time; time to think, to discuss and debate, to examine and consider. The urgency and immediacy we must contend with was unknown to them.
“The government institutions they designed and developed are indicative of the times they lived in. I find it amazing that they’ve held up as well and for as long as they have. Now, admittedly, I’m an old man and old men have a weakness for glorifying the past. Things were always better when we were young. That is, of course, a crock of horseshit.”
The people around the table had been getting a bit fidgety and irritable during the Justice’s lecture, but his last comment caught their attention and most chuckled when they realized what he’d said.
“I’m older than anyone here today in this room; I lived thru the First World War, the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War, the Red Scare, the Sexual Revolution, the Cold War, Vietnam, Watergate, Disco…scandals by the score and social revolutions by the hands full. I’ve seen hemlines rise and fall and rise again; institutions come and go, right along with their innovators and detractors; and thru it all, including fifty-six years on the bench, the one thing that hasn’t significantly changed is our government.”
The old man sighed and sucked air. I got the feeling he hadn’t done that much talking in a decade.
“In my professional opinion, if we don’t make a drastic change in the way we do things in this town, we can look forward to a complete political, social and economic collapse in say, about twenty-five years.”
The Chief Justice sat back in his chair, his eyes on me.
The Attorney General leaned forward. “Much as I hate to, I’m forced to agree with Justice Melbourne. Crime of all types is on the rise, even though we have more laws, more lawyers and more law enforcement than ever. Because of political conflicts, we’ve had judicial openings throughout the system that have remained unfilled, some of them for years. The way things are now, none of these conditions are likely to improve any time soon. Something’s got to be done, and done quickly.”
An older woman that I didn’t recognize sat up straighter in her chair.
“We’re the wealthiest nation in the world, collect more money, give more, by a wide margin, than anyone else, but we also spend and borrow more than any other nation. Our balance of trade has tilted so far towards imports that we’re in real danger of losing our status as an economic leader. We waste money and time trying to get the federal budget approved each year, throw away billions, in the name of compromise, on unnecessary political projects and election campaigns…and the sad thing is that nobody seems to be willing to do a thing about it.”
I held up my hands. “Okay, enough already.” I lowered my right hand but pointed my left index finger at the man in the uniform of a Marine four star general.
“What about the Pentagon?” I asked. “Is any of this agreeable to you people?”
The Secretary of Defense spoke up quickly. “The military takes its orders from the civilian authority, as always.”
I cocked my head and glared at the lemony faced man in the expensive silk suit.
“Did I ask for your input?” The man’s sallow complexion paled even more, giving him the look of a jaundice sufferer.
“Sorry sir.” he mumbled and slumped back in his chair.
The Marine’s lips twitched at the corners. I nodded sharply at the General.
“The Secretary is correct, Doctor. We take our orders from the duly appointed civilian authority. Whoever that happens to be.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Neatly said, yet deftly evasive. Would the Pentagon oppose the change proposed by the President? Yes or no?”
The General met my eyes, his facial expression, while bland and relaxed, reminded me of a bird of prey searching the terrain below it for movement.
“We have no objections…sir.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, took a long slow breath, exhaled even slower, opened my eyes and rotated my chair so that I faced the Senators and Congressmen.
“Well?” I asked gently.
They exchanged looks briefly and then the Speaker of the House stood up.
“Six months ago we couldn’t have agreed on what time to have lunch. And frankly if the President had proposed any name but yours for this position we’d have run him out of town on a rail. The current leadership of both chambers will support the proposal.”
The man sat down, looking as though he’d just signed his professional death warrant. Which, considering that his party was expected to win the upcoming general election, he might have.
I sat back, steepled my fingers and pressed them against my upper lip.
“Anyone here not in favor?” I asked.
I felt a familiar surge of angry emotions building on my right. I smiled and twisted the chair around.
“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t get a vote.” I told the First Lady. Her face flushed brightly.
I lowered my hands to the table, stood up and flexed my shoulders. “If you’d have brought this to me a week ago I’d have laughed in your faces then told you to piss off.” I took a last look around the room then faced the President.
“Give me the weekend to think it over.” I said heading for the nearest exit. “You’ll have my answer Monday morning.”
The Secret Service agent guarding that particular door scuttled to one side as I bore down on him. I reached out, flipped the lock, twisted the doorknob and pulled it back towards me. I’d just started out into the hall when a frantic little twinge at the back of my mind caught my attention and I stopped.
I turned half way around and looked at the President, who had remained sitting.
“By the way, your leak…she’s down there at the end of the table.” and I waved a hand in the direction of his wife. Then I smiled at them all, and it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Let’s keep today’s discussion between us, shall we? If I hear so much as a whisper in the media about any of this, everyone in this room will be retiring from public life.” I allowed a touch of warmth to reach my lips and gave a partial shrug with one shoulder. “Just a suggestion.”